1
“Keep the change, lass. Ye’ve earned it.”
Piper Armstrong stareddown at the coins in her palm, her heart skipping a beat. Mr. Campbell had given her nearly double her usual wages as payment for covering Mary’s shifts while the poor girl recovered from fever.
“Are ye certain, sir?”Piper asked, her fingers closing protectively around the money.
“Aye, I’m certain,”Mr. Campbell said, waving a flour-dusted hand dismissively. The baker’s kind eyes crinkled at the corners. “Ye worked hard, never complained once, even when we had ye kneadin’ dough until midnight. Take it. Buy yerself somethin’ nice for a change.”
Somethin’nice.
The words feltforeign on Piper’s tongue. When was the last time she’d bought anything for herself? Her dress was three years old, carefully mended in places where the fabric had worn thin. Her shoes had holes in the soles that let in water when it rained.
“Thank ye, sir,”she whispered, clutching the coins tighter. “Ye’re very generous.”
“Och, away with ye now,”Mr. Campbell said, though he looked pleased. “Get home before dark. These roads arenae safe for a young lass alone.”
Piper noddedand stepped out of the bakery into the late afternoon sun.
The villageof Kilbride was quiet; most folks were already home for supper. She should hurry. Her parents would be expecting their wages, as they always did.
Her hand wentto her pocket, feeling the weight of the coins. So much money. Enough to buy fabric for a new dress, or a book—oh, how she missed having books to read. Alexandra had left a few for her, but her parents had sold them years ago.
I could hidesome of it,just a few coins. They’d never ken.
But even asthe thought formed, her back began to tingle—a phantom pain from the last time her father had caught her holding back money. She’d only kept two coins, hoping tosave enough to eventually leave. He’d beaten her so badly she couldn’t work for three days.
“The moneyye earn belongs to this family,” he’d snarled, his breath reeking of cheap whisky. “Every last piece. Ye think ye deserve to keep it? Ye think ye’re better than us?”
No.She couldn’t risk it. Not again.
Piper walkedthrough the familiar streets, her pace quickening as dread settled like a stone in her stomach.
She passedMrs. MacLeish’s cottage, where the old woman was taking in washing from the line. Passed the blacksmith’s forge, already dark and silent. Passed the well where she’d spent so many afternoons as a child, hiding from her parents’ wrath.
Just givethem the money and go to bed. Tomorrow ye’ll work again, and it’ll be the same as always. Daenae think about it.
But she did thinkabout it. Couldn’t help but think about it. Twenty-four years old, and she had nothing to show for her life but scars on her back and a heavy heart.
Alexandra would have been sodisappointed.
The thought of her neighbor—thewoman who’d been more of a mother to her than her own had ever been—brought tears to Piper’s eyes.
Alexandra had diedten years ago, but Piper still missed her every single day. She still heard her gentle voice:
Ye’reworth more than this, sweet girl. Ye deserve kindness. Ye deserve love.
But kindnessand love felt like fairy tales, stories for other people. Not for girls like Piper.
She turnedthe corner onto her street and stopped dead.
Three men stood outside her parents’cottage. Large men, rough-looking, with hard faces and harder eyes. They wore dark clothes and had weapons at their sides—not the honest weapons of soldiers or guardsmen, but the kind carried by men who did ugly work for uglier reasons.
Every instinct Piperpossessed screamed at her to run. To turn around and disappear into the village, to hide until these men were gone.
But her feetwouldn’t move. She stood frozen, watching as her mother appeared in the doorway, laughing at something one of the men said. Her father emerged behind her, his expression eager, almost fawning.
Nay.Nay, nay, nay.
