Chapter 5“Tell me, my dear, what Provence are you from?” Skrlock asked. Gas lamps provided the light I needed to see, while our footsteps echoed along the street. He had sharp features, a thin, somewhat hooked nose, and piercing blue eyes.
“Provence?” I asked.
“Sabrina of…?” Skrlock asked expectantly.
“Of what?” I asked.
“That's my question of you. Of what?” Skrlock sounded slightly annoyed with my slowness.
“Where you are from? Originally,” Jett explained more patently. “I am Prince Jett of Wallachia. He is Skrlock of Wallachia.”
“Oh.” I finally got it. These names of towns or provinces sounded like villages in some foreign country. I quickly debated the wisdom of telling them the truth, but to lie would be pointless. I would have trouble finding Lindee on my own. “I'm Sabrina of-of
