With that, I turn on my heel and stride out, ready for the long walk back to the slums. Every step out of the temple is a strut, and I – almost – convince myself that not a single one is for his benefit.
Chapter 3
‘Rose! Where were you? I was worried.’
So much for hoping Kay would sleep through my third and final night outing. I open my mouth, a lie already forming on my tongue.
‘I take it you also heard the screaming?’ she says. ‘It was Evelina, next door, wasn’t it? I saw the cloaks going in there this morning. I fear the worst.’
It’s the middle of the night, and she likely barely slept, yet my sister is still the most exquisitely beautiful young woman I’ve ever seen. Even with starvation hollowing her cheeks and the same white-blonde hair that we share, she’s radiant. But her beauty is more than skin deep. With all that we’ve lost and the hateful lies spewed about our family, you’d expect her to be bitter. But she’s still so innocent. So hopeful. It’s why I give over half the brews I make to Rula and her protection racket – to make sure Kay stays like that.
‘I’ll take a tonic round to Evelina,’ I reply, relieved to have dodged an interrogation. I walk over to the small stove to retrieve a pan of the pain-relieving brew I left simmering before I left and decant it into five meagre vials. I suppress a sigh. If I give one vial of the elixir to Evelina and two to Rula, that only leaves two for sale on the black market. The good news is that prices are high at the moment; the bad news is that it’s because people are dying. And given that the people who are forced to pay the high prices have as little as we do, I can’t – won’t – ask them to pay any more thanusual. So two vials aren’t going to garner anywhere near enough to buy the type of weapon I’ll need to survive the Retterheld if Etta accepts me.
‘By the Mother!’ Kay gasps as her gaze suddenly narrows on me. ‘What’s happened to your hand?’
My pulse soars. Did I not do a good enough job of cleaning my fingers? Has she spied a speck of black ash on my skin? But then she grabs me by the wrist and twists so that my palm is facing up, revealing the deep cut.
‘It’s nothing,’ I lie. ‘I was just careless.’ I hurriedly take my hand back, just in case she notes the remnants of ash beneath my nails. ‘The edge of the pan was sharper than I thought.’
Her frown remains in place a moment longer.
‘It’s not nothing,’ she says finally. ‘It needs stitches.’
‘Later. I need to get this tonic to Evelina, and you need to get some sleep. You’re working tomorrow, right?’
It’s difficult for anyone to get work in the slums, but Kay’s job is part of the agreement I have with Rula. I keep giving Rula tonics for free, and Kay spends her days looking after children in the fifth ring, thinking that scoring her job was a stroke of luck, allowing us to land on our feet.
Landing on our feet. It’s enough to make me cry. Were we still living in the High Hold, she would be fighting off proposals from dukes, lords, and maybe even a prince. Instead, we live in utter squalor.
The gifting is the only chance I have to return her to the life she truly deserves.
‘I think there will be six children tomorrow,’ Kay replies. ‘And Losarah said she will pay me with flour from the mill. We usually get far more that way than when she pays me in loaves, so we’ll eat well tomorrow.’
My stomach growls. Eating well isn’t something I can recall doing since my father died, but for once we might not have to go to bed to the sound of our hollow stomachs crying out.
Kay sets a hand on her hip. ‘Stop trying to distract me,’ she scolds. ‘You’re not going anywhere until that wound is stitched up. And if you don’t do it, I will.’
This time I take her threat seriously. Though she’s talented at many things, her sewing’s even worse than her brewing. If I let her do it, I won’t be able to use that hand for days, if not weeks, and from the satisfied smile tugging at her lips, she knows I know it. Luckily, the cut is on my non-dominant hand.
Ten teeth-gritting minutes later, the wound is stitched and covered ina salve of my own creation. I show her my neat repair work and she nods, finally happy to let me go.
‘Make sure you block the door properly when I’m gone,’ I say over my shoulder.
She rolls her eyes. ‘I will, Rose. Give Evelina my love, won’t you? And ask if there’s anything else we can do for them.’
‘Of course.’ Though, truthfully, we could offer little more than what they already had. At least there’s equality in the slums, where we’re all equally fucked.
The night airsomehow feels even colder now than it did when I arrived home. Frost creaks underneath my feet while clouds of smoke rise from those houses lucky enough to have fires burning inside.
I head out down the narrow pathway, and when I reach Evelina’s, I knock once, only to find the action is enough to push the door open. My chest tightens. That’s not a good omen. Leaving your door open in the slums is a sign that you have nothing left for people to take.
The room is larger than ours, although space comes at the cost of warmth. My breath swells into soft plumes even after I’ve stepped inside. The bed is in the corner, next to the tiny fire, and thick layers of fur and wool rise and fall softly. Corem is sitting with his body bent over his wife, so hunched that all I can see is a small slice of his back. The sound of muffled sobbing reaches my ears and my stomach twists.
‘Corem?’ My voice is soft, barely a whisper. ‘I brought a tonic for Evelina. Kay told me the priestesses were here today. I trust they eased her suffering?’
Corem’s back straightens and his hands move to his cheeks, wiping away tears.
‘Rose?’ He faces me, forcing a smile that only succeeds in highlighting the weariness and despair in his eyes. ‘Thank you. Yes, the cloaks came. Three of the sisters.’
