“Long.”
But not as bad as it might have been. When Séverin sent for her, he had included a first-class train ticket with a compartment to herself so that she need never speak to another person. She liked that the compartment had lamps with many tassels, and a rug that was one color, and she’d spent the whole trip counting things aloud… calming herself for what she had to do.
Zofia thrust the resignation letter to him.
“I have to go back,” she said. “My sister needs me. I’m resigning. I came back to say goodbye to everyone.”
Séverin stared at the paper without taking it.
“My understanding upon your employment was that you were building an income to supplement your sister’s tuition at a medical university. Is that no longer your wish?”
“It… it still is, but—”
“Then why would you need to leave?”
Zofia searched for the right words. When she had reviewed the order of events, she had not anticipated an outcome of him not accepting her resignation on the spot. After all, it was not as though she had any work to do in L’Eden. He had ceased pursuing all acquisitions when the hunt for the Sleeping Palace had failed. Zofia had no work.
“My sister is dying.”
Séverin’s expression did not change.
“And that is the reason you returned to Glowno?”
She nodded.
“Why did you lie to me?”
Zofia hesitated. She thought of Tristan’s last laugh, and Hela’s fevered murmurings of how their family used to spend Chanukah, crowded around the table as their mother ladled out stew and the smell of candle wax burning in the chanukia.
“Because I did not want it to be true.”
There was another reason, though. When Zofia had started writing a letter to Enrique and Laila, Hela had told her to stop: “Oh, don’t make them worry, Zosia. They might start fretting over who would have to take care of you when I’m gone.” What if her sister was right? The shame of not knowing whether she was an imposition or not stayed her hand.
Zofia watched as a small muscle twitched in Séverin’s jaw. Still, he did not take the letter. New words found Zofia, plucked from every time she had watched Séverin turn Tristan’s old penknife over and over in his hands, or stand at the door to his room and never open it, or stare out the window to what had once been the Seven Sins Garden.
“You understand,” she said.
Séverin flinched. He turned sharply from her.
“Your sister will not die,” he said. “And though she might need you, I need you more. There’s work to be done.”
Zofia frowned. One moment she was wondering how Séverin could be so sure about Hela’s recovery, the next moment, the thought of work jolted her with a small rush of joy. Without work, she had felt restless. And she was not cut out to take Hela’s placein their uncle’s home, where all her wages would go toward Hela’s remaining debt.
“I checked your savings this morning. You have no money left, Zofia.”
Zofia opened her mouth. Closed it. Anger warmed her cheeks.
“That… that is not for you to see. That is private.”
“Not to me,” he said. “Stay until this next job is done, and I will double your income. Your sister will not have to work as a governess. You could provide comfortably enough for the two of you for years to come. I will start sending her portions of your income now… but you cannot go back to Poland. And any doubled income will be given to you upon completion of the job.”
“And I… I am to keep none of my earnings in the meantime?” asked Zofia.
She did not like that. Already, she had to rely so much on others.
“I will take care of your living and laboratory expenses.”
“What about Goliath?”
