1Half bolt of cotton
I don’t read the entire list. My eyes flick back up to meet his. “It’s—it’s not a letter.”
“Surely not. A fabric order. Some of my customers pay dearly for confidentiality.”
“So—so these aren’t letters of treason at all.” I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
“Not this one. I’m quite literally doing my job.” He pauses. “I’ll return in a fortnight, and you can tell me your decision then.”
Two weeks. I make a quick calculation on whether we have enough silver to pay the tax collector now—and whether that will allow us enough time to gather more to pay what we owe.
But then I realize what he said, and I frown. “My decision on what?”
“I’m not sure I can trust Jax. But you and I are a bit alike, I think.” He leans in, and his voice is very low. “A decision on whether to help me.”
There’s danger in his tone.Thismight just be a fabric order—or it might not. Or maybe only some of his messages are treasonous, mixed with regular ones to lessen the risk.
There’s no way to know.
Before I can say anything, he straightens. “You have my thanks for the salve,” he says. “How much for the meat pies?”
“Ah …” I scramble to make my thoughts make sense. “Five coppers apiece.”
“Done.” He glances at his guards. “Wrap them all. We can eat while we ride.”
They do, and he pulls coins from his purse and slips them into my hand. “Think on my offer. It’s not treason to question whether someone is loyal.” He folds my fingers around the coins.
I nod. “Yes, my lord.”
He keeps a grip on my hand, holding my fingers closed. “Don’t tell the blacksmith.”
I swallow hard. “But—”
He shrugs. “Your decision. Choose wisely. I make a very dangerous enemy, Callyn.”
Oh, Jax. I think of him telling off Tycho. I have noideawhat he might have done to the man in front of me. But I knew he was playing with fire—and I might be, too.
I don’t know what to say.
So I nod. “I’m truly sorry about your mother. And your sister.”
Some of the arrogant stillness seeps out of his expression again, and for an instant, he’s not a terrifying lord, he’s a young man who understands grief and loss as potently as I do. “I’m truly sorry about yours,” he says softly.
Then he lifts my hand with the coins and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. Before I can react, he’s through the door, and cold wind swirls into the bakery, making the fire flicker. Somewhere in the distant forest, an animal shrieks again, and I latch the door. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure my sister can hear it upstairs.
Nora. I fly to the base of the stairs, but she’s sitting there on the top step, just out of sight. Her eyes are wide.
“Don’t marry that one,” she whispers.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” But then I think to open my palm, and my breath catches.
No coppers at all.
Twenty silvers.
Don’t tell the blacksmith.
Oh, Jax. I drop the coins into my skirt pocket and ease up the stairs to my sister.
