"There were lots of other punishments that my mother could come up with; brothels are busy places, there's plenty to keep a girl busy. Scrub this Araceli, dust that, I want to see my reflection in those tiles my girl. Polishing endlessly. Some of my tutors would make me copy things until my fingers ached and I had ink up to my knuckles that I had to scrub out, but they all learned very quickly that sending me to the kitchens wasn't a punishment, I liked running around there too much and the cooks were only too glad to have someone who wanted to be there so they never kept me scrubbing or washing the dishes if they could show me how to help them cook instead. That was dangled as a carrot, everything else was the stick. It make shock you to learn that I was something of a willful child, it was why I left home by my fifteenth birthday even though my mother wasn't in a real hurry to have me gone."

The thought of burning though makes her wrinkle her nose, curling her hands away and into her gown as if she might shield them, conjuring memories of the smell of it and how it sticks in your nose for hours after and she shakes her head to clear it.

"I take it both of you having magic means that it wouldn't burn you the same way something would me, say the time I wanted to test to see if the stove truly was hot for myself."