“And what makes you think,” he asks, “that anything you have to offer is worth that much?”
Heat slams into my cheeks. Humiliation burns hotter than the cold.
“Because I know the numbers,” I grind out. “I know exactly how deep in the red we are and why. Because I have spent my life fighting to keep our farm from crumbling completely while your winter eats it alive. Because your steward is either incompetent or lying to you if he hasn’t told you how many farms like ours are folding, how many men are fleeing Brunemar. You can throw him in the mines, my lord,” I jerk my head toward Father, “and lose everything anyway. Or you can use what I actually am good for.”
I drag in a breath, chest aching.
“I am not the strongest,” I say. “But I am clever, and I don’t break easily.”
Something flickers in his gaze.
Behind me, Father whispers, “Please, Neve,” but I can’t look at him now. If I do, I’ll shatter.
Luceran’s attention drifts from my face to the fist clenched at my side, to the ink stains on my fingers, to the faint smudge of dirt on my hem. Taking in the picture. Weighing the cost.
Finally, he exhales, a sound like wind over the frozen lake.
“Very well.”
The words land between us like a dropped stone.
Father staggers. “My lord…”
Luceran lifts a dismissive hand.
“Your daughter will remain here,” he says. “In my service. Her labor weighed against your debt.”
He looks at me again, and there is nothing soft in his face.
“You will do as you are told,” he continues. “You will obey my rules. You will not set foot in any part of the castle I forbid you from entering, and you will remember, at all times, that you are here because I permit it. If you break our bargain, Bartal Devlin will go to the mines. There will be no third offer.”
My stomach flips.
I nod, because I can’t seem to make my mouth work.
Father lurches toward the dais. “You can’t. She’s just a girl. She doesn’t know what she’s…”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I cut in, turning to him. My throat is tight, my eyes sting. I will not cry. Not here. “Go home, Father. Please. While you still can.”
His face crumples in on itself. He reaches for me, fingers shaking, then lets his hand fall.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “This is my fault.”
“No,” I say, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “This is winter’s fault. Now go before I start thinking this is a bad idea.”
He lets out a broken laugh that is more sob than anything, then bows, first to Luceran, quickly and without grace. Then to me, as if I am something sacred, or doomed.
The riders move to escort him away. I listen to the receding slap of boots, the distant echo of the great doors groaning shut behind him.
When the last sound dies, the hall feels even larger.
His gaze pins me anew.
“Very well, Neve Devlin,” he says quietly. “You have bought your father’s life. Now we will see what your own is worth.”
My breath fogs in front of me. Just like that, I am alone in this frozen tomb of a throne room, trapped with a Fae lord who regards me like an animal he bartered a very good price for at the market.
Luceran paces, the slow drag of his steps marking a thin trail of melted frost that freezes solid again the moment he moves on. His eyes, those warring, impossible eyes, never leave me for more than a heartbeat.
