Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“You were dying,” Fawn says, angrily swiping at her tears. She looks at me. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did. You should’ve told me. I wouldn’t have let you sign that contract.”
I reach for my friend’s hand and squeeze. The thing about desperation is that it steals the right choice from our list of options. Nik knows this as well as anyone.
“I’ll give myself in your place, Fawny. Got it?” Nik says. There’s a quiet resolve in my friend’s expression that breaks my heart.
“And what happens to me then?” Fawn asks.
I wish she wasn’t old enough to understand that by going in her place, her mother would be sentencing her to a fate that could be worse. No one in Fairscape wants an extra mouth to feed. The only people who can afford charity are too greedy to bother.
“Can you take her, Brie?” Nik asks. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice. Take her.”
I shake my head. I want to, but if Madame Vivias found Fawn living in the cellar with us, there would be horrible consequences—and not just for Jas and me. For Fawn too. “There has to be someone else.”
“There’s no one else, and you know it,” Nik says, but there’s no bite in her words, only resignation.
“How much does she owe?”
Nik winces and looks away. “Too much.”
“How. Much.”
“Eight thousand raqon.”
The number makes me flinch. That’s two months’ payment to Madame Vivias, even including all her “penalties.” I don’t know how much I got from Gorst’s vault tonight, but there’s a good chance I have enough in my satchel to cover it.
Fawn looks at me with those big eyes she was named for, begging me to save her. If I don’t do this, it’s the end of Nik’s life and possibly the end of Fawn’s. Best-case scenario, Fawn ends up as some rich noblewoman’s handmaiden. And worst? I can’t let myself think the worst.
Nik wanted better for her daughter. A chance to be better, to have better. If I miss this payment to Madame V, it’s just more of the same for me. Our debt is too deep, our lives too entangled with the witch we were stuck with when Uncle Devlin died. The contents of this satchel can’t save me and Jas, but they can save Fawn and Nik.
I reach into my bag and pull out two pouches. “Here.”
Nik’s eyes widen. “Where did you get this?”
“It doesn’t matter. Take it.”
Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Nik peers into the bags before shaking her head. “Brie, you can’t.”
“I can and I will.”
Nik stares at me for a long beat, and in her eyes I see her desperation warring with her fear for me. Finally she pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tight. “I’ll repay you. Someday. Somehow. I swear it.”
“You owe me nothing.” I pull out of her arms, eager to get home and clean up. Desperate to sleep. “You would’ve done the same for me and Jas if you could have.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I watch one spill over and down her cheek, smearing her makeup as it goes. Her gratitude morphs to worry as she spots my bloody hand. “What happened?”
I make a fist to hide my sliced palm. “It’s nothing. Just a cut.”
“Just a cut? It’s an infection waiting to happen.” She nods to her bedroom. “Come with me. I can help.”
Knowing she won’t let me go without a fight, I follow her into the tiny room where there’s a rickety dresser and the bed she and her daughter share. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch as she shuts the door behind her and gathers supplies.
She sinks to her haunches in front of me and paints a salve on my cut. “You got this getting that money.” It’s not a question, so I don’t bother with a lie. “Are you okay?”
I try to hold still as the salve seeps into my skin. The flesh itches where it knits together. “I’m fine. I just need some dinner and a nap.”
Dark, incredulous eyes flash to mine. “A nap? Brie, you’re so run-down I’m not sure anything but a coma would refresh you.”
I laugh—or try to. It sounds more like a pathetic mewl. So tired.
“Another payment due to your aunt?”
“Tomorrow.” I swallow hard at the thought. I’m seventeen, but I’m magically bound to a contract that will, at this rate, keep me in Madame Vivias’s debt for the rest of my life. When my sister and I signed ourselves into servitude nine years ago, Uncle Devlin had just died and Mom had abandoned us. The payments Madame V required then seemed reasonable—and much better than the uncertain fate of an orphan—but we were little girls who didn’t understand things like compound interest or the insidious trap of her penalties. Just as Fawn didn’t truly understand the contract she’d signed with Gorst.