I step up, prick my finger, hold my breath as the parchment zings with writing. It will be bad this time, I know. The longer hours, the hand-done chores—these are not true defenses against the complaints that High Fae like Kassandra can sling our way. I wanted to do this without Benji or Jeremee around, but sometimes we can’t hide the horrors of our world.
“You earned fifty copper coins this week,” the teller says. After room and board and taxes to all the Houses, and my significant interest, I’m left with ten copper coins.
“No complaint against me?”
“No complaints.”
Hmm. Maybe Kassandra’s threats were empty. So I pay five toward my debts and pocket the remaining five to spend at the next festival for Jeremee’s shoes.
“Congratulations,” the teller grunts. “You’ve made a significant enough dent in one of your debts. Enough to thin it.”
“Oh?” I straighten. This can’t be true. Is it time? He gestures, and I outstretch my arm. Another prick and I watch in awe as the first ring on my right arm tingles with the feeling of a hundred tiny needles.
“Benji,” I say. “Come look.”
He rushes over, small hands clasping my forearm. We watch my wrist as the first tattooed ring shrinks, thinning in half. I’ve paid down enough interest in the ring to make a visible difference.
“Oh my planes!” He bounces next to me, and I pass two copper coins into his pocket. Jeremee gives a nod of thanks, mouth tight, before stepping up to the counter. Benji slips his fingers into mine, and tears prick my eyes. Perhaps I should resent that this child has not endured as many dues as we have. Many older faeries feel this way, but why should those who come after me suffer because I have?
“It seems there’s a complaint against you,” the teller tells Jae.
My stomach plummets.
“What House?” Jeremee demands.
“Illusion.”
“Wait.” I join Jeremee at the counter, dropping Benji’s hand. “What’s this complaint?”
“Damage of property. Which means he needs to pay the value of the damaged property. Three hundred silver coins.”
The world spins. “But…”
“Jae-jae?” Benji starts. “What’s happening?”
A roaring in my ears drowns out everything else. I had splashed water on her silk robe and slippers. I sullied her clothes and slung insults. All to distract her from the violation of a Scarp daring to be seen aboveground, daring to interrupt her slapping my face with beautiful fucking butterflies.
“There’s been a mistake,” I say. “This complaint is meant for me.”
The teller shakes his head. “It’s labeled for him.”
Another Illusion, another cruel trick. Kassandra letting me think I’ve been spared only to punish us both. This would set Jeremee back almost a century. He’s already saving his brother, paying off three generations of lives lived.
“Let me pay,” I demand.
Jeremee starts. “Avery—”
“I deserve the debt.”
The teller sighs. “You know the laws. You cannot pay off another’s debts until you have fully paid off your own.”
“There must be some way—”
“Can you afford to free yourself? Looking at your accounts, the answer is no. No, you cannot pay for him, either.”
We stand in numbed silence. That could take centuries, and by the time I would get to his, he might be entirely consumed, even the whites of his eyes black with ink.
“Avery.” A small hand weaves through mine. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, right?”
