“Father, you don’t have to—”
He makes apish-poshsound at me and waves my objection away as he heads for the side door that connects to the small kitchen. My stomach threatens to ruin the meal, souring at the thought that this might be the last time I ever eat his cooking. I’m going to have to get to work if I’m going to scrap together a lifetime of crons in six months.
“So, when are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Emily asks, nudging me with her shoulder.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Somethingdefinitelyis.”
“Why do you think that?” I hate how well Em knows me.
“You should be happier.”
“Iamhappy.” As happy as a dead woman can be. But ending my failed marriage has been the only real thing I’ve wanted to do before I die. Not just because Charles went after my family before he’d even known I’d survived. But for myself.
I own you… Your soul is mine. I’ve carried those words with me for almost five years. Trying to prove them wrong at every turn. To show him that I am my own woman through word and deed…but it was never enough. There was always that last, whispering tether, holding me to him. A line now snapped.
“Victoria Datch.” Even when she scolds, she doesn’t use my full name.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Talk to me, please.” Emily lowers her voice and levels her eyes with mine. She takes both my hands in hers. “It’s rare to see you so knotted like this.” A frown crosses her lips. She works for the council and knows their methods. She’s finally putting it together. “What else did they say?”
“The council has levied a fee on me as a cost of breaking the contract.”
“What?” Emily balks.
“I have to pay back what I owe them for my care and pay while I was a lighthouse caretaker’s wife.” The words almost get stuck in my throat and I’m grateful for the heavy flagon once more as I peel my hand away to swallow a mouthful of ale. “I also must finish paying for his ‘suffering.’”
“His suffering?” My sister looks as if she is about to flip the bar in her rage on my behalf. “What more could you possibly owe? You’ve been paying him two hundred crons a year—more than most could dream of.” Just hearing her say “two hundred crons a year” emphasizes once more the impossibility of the amount my freedom has cost. I can’t even die without being a burden on the ones I love.
“They want me to pay him ten thousand,” I tell her so she doesn’t have to risk her position with the council to find out—as I know she absolutely would’ve had I kept it a secret.
“Excuse me?” Emily pales, going still.
“And then another ten thousand to the council to pay back the investment they put in me while I was wife to a lighthouse keeper.”
“You didn’t see a single cron from him!” Emily has slowly learned the rough outlines of my circumstances over the years. I owed them all some explanation when I showed up, back from the dead, having—to their knowledge—ignored all their letters before the sea claimed me. But I’ve spared her the grimmest details. Still, my sister is a woman grown, and a clever one. She’s figured out the worst of it.
“Keep your voice down, Em. Please,” I hiss. “I don’t want Father knowing.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have an idea.” I stare into my flagon.
“It’s not what I think it is…is it?” Em narrows her eyes at me. “Vic? Tell me you’re not going to sail the north route.”
I shrug and take a long, long drink.
“I thought Lord Applegate gave up on that route after the last close call?”
“He might have changed his mind.” Rumor has it the Applegate Company is struggling, at present. The silver mines aren’t producing at the rate they once were and the land route has been met with endless, costly setbacks as they’ve tried to tunnel through the mountains. Very little silver has been flowing to market, from what Mother says.
“No. I don’t care. I forbid it.”
I chuckle lightly. “You can’t forbid me.”
“I’m certainly going to try! It’s not just the sea monsters anymore. I hear the sirens are worse in that area this time of year and it’s too rocky for the council to erect a lighthouse closer than—”The one you were at, she stops herself from saying.
