“You truly don’t need to remind me.”
“How are you going to pay?” asks the one with meaty hands. This one has no unseelie characteristics to suggest what kind of fae he is, but he’s a broad, bulky fellow with a fleshy face and a thick neck that’s always hidden beneath a knitted scarf. Today it’s a blue scarf patterned with rows of little white daisies.
“The usual way,” I say with a sigh.
“Right,” says Cane. “You know what to do then.”
“I do. I’ll be there tonight as fucking usual. So do we really need to do this every week?”
“Boss’ orders,” says Meathands.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” I say, tone flat, “but I’ve got places to be. Kindly fuck off, dear gents, and I’ll do what I’m supposed to do.”
The two give me menacing glowers—which might be unnerving if I hadn’t been on the receiving end of them every week for months on end—before skulking off.
Meathands, however, peers back around the corner. “Do you want to buy a scarf?” he rushes to ask, pointing to the one around his neck. “Eight emerald rounds, special deal for ya.”
“For the hundredth time, no.”
His face falls, and he curls his lips into a parting snarl. Siegfried Financial must not pay its cronies well, considering one is desperate to launch his handmade scarf business.
I lean against the alley wall and release an aggravated breath. It’s been almost three years since I took out a loan from an admittedly unsavory source, and the rising interest has made my weekly payments impossible to maintain for the past year. Had I understood just how long it would take to pay back said loan, I wouldn’t have resorted to taking one out in the first place. Yet I didn’t have many options. I was newly disinherited without a single emerald chip to my name and asking my father for aid was out of the question. Turns out one needs money to function in the world. I needed fine clothing to get a job, food to survive. I didn’t exactlyneedthe luxury apartment I leased for a year or a high-spending lifestyle like the one I grew up with, but that’s only in retrospect. At the time, opulence was akin to breathing. My idea of a downgrade was another man’s picture of perfection.
Regardless of what I wanted to spend my loan on, most reputable lenders weren’t keen on handing funds over to a disinherited aristocrat without a guarantor. I was grateful when I came across Siegfried Financial, which only needed collateral.
Not just any kind of collateral, but its specialty of choice.
Secrets.
After being raised amongst the elite, I’d gathered my share of secrets over the years. Who’s sleeping with whom, whose business is crumbling, who dabbles in illegal investments, who harbors amusing kinks. I entered the lender’s office fully prepared to hand over any number of these minor yet shocking secrets. None would cause direct harm to me or anyone I truly cared about, so they were fair game as far as I was concerned. There was only one secret I kept that could wreck the lives of those I loved, but it was locked behind a bargain. I was magically bound to never tell that secret to anyone. Which meant it was safe.
Or so I thought.
It turned out the goblin in charge of Siegfried Financial could read one’s deepest, most closely guarded secret with a single look. I didn’t have to say a word or break my bargain. Just like that, my lender had control over the only secret I wanted to keep safe.
So here I am, twenty-some-odd thousand emerald rounds in debt, the original funds from my loan long since spent. I’m stuck with a weekly payment I can’t afford, interest that increases at an astounding rate, and only three months left before my lender cancels the remainder of my debt in exchange for spilling my secret. A secret that could destroy my family.
I can’t let that happen.
Not for my father’s sake. Not even for mine.
It’s my sister’s reputation I care about. Mother’s. Our estate’s staff. All the lives that could be thrown into turmoil should this secret get out and drag the Phillips name into scandal.
That’s the real reason I need the publishing deal and the six-year contract of employment at theGazette. With proof of long-term employment, I can secure a legitimate loan with a reputable bank. I can use my signing bonus and publishing advance as collateral. I can free myself from this awful loan before my secret gets out.
Curling my fists, I exit the alley and head toward theGazette. All the relief and pleasant feelings from seeing Daphne evaporated during my chat with Cane and Meathands. Yet the reminder that I’ll see her tonight sets the most jagged edges of my nerves at ease. I won’t be able to impress my friend as thoroughly as I wish, thanks to the job I have to do tonight, but it’s not about me anyway.
It’s about Daphne. The problem that I hope I have the solution for.
If I focus on that, I can ignore the fact that this life I’ve built—this life of my own, regardless of debts—is at risk of getting royally fucked.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAPHNE
Later that night, I return to Fletcher-Wilson, pausing on the sidewalk outside the office. Fletcher-Wilson is closed now, as are most of the other buildings on Verbena Street. There are a few other pedestrians around, along with plenty of coach traffic, but I can’t fight the tightness in my shoulders. I rarely go into town at night. Certainly not to mysterious locations alone.
Though…I supposedly won’t be alone.
