Ariadne shrugged. "I'm good at noticing things," she replied. "And I notice that there are two kinds of people here. The ones who belong and seem to know what we're doing...and the rest of us. You're the rest of us."

And there was her scent, too. But Ariadne had learned after a lifetime of fear and xenophobia not to mention things like that. It wasn't 'normal.' It marked her as Alasrian, as different.

As fair game.

She, of course, had no reason to believe the white-haired woman would mean her harm. But old habits had a way of sticking to the soul.