She hesitated but then did as I asked. Ouch. What was forty coppers had become one silver and fifty coppers. The window cost one silver, I was guessing. I knew silver was more valuable than copper and likely would take longer to earn back. I shoved the tab in my pocket and swallowed hard.
“I’m going to run these home, and then I can come right back and get on that dusting.”
She gave me a weak smile. “How about Tuesdays and Thursdays after school you work off the debt? Take the next few days to help your father with your friend.”
It was too much for me, the kindness, and I had to blink back tears. “Why are you helping me?”
She sighed. “If you’re from Isariah, then you don’t know much about magic, right?”
I nodded.
“I’m an Illuminator. My magic is healing in nature, which I infuse into tinctures. But also, I can see someone’s truest self. I see them in colors. When they lie, I can tell. When they are hurt, I can tell. When they have ill intent or seek to harm, I see it all,” she said. The hairs on my arms stood up as she pointed to the tinctures around us. “It makes for an incredible ability to give the person the right remedy they need.” Then she looked at me. “It also helps me know who I can trust.”
Was she saying she trusted me? That my color was good or something? I certainly hoped so, especially after what I was just told about Marissa Bane. A name I deeply wanted more information about. “I will be here every Tuesday and Thursday after school until I work off the debt,” I promised.
“I know you will,” she said kindly, and then I left with four life-changing tinctures for Hipsie in my arms.
* * *
The first night was rough.My father and I took turns tending to Hipsie and giving her a sip of the pain tincture every three hours as the bottle indicated. You could tell around the two-hour mark it started to wear off and she would moan. But when she got her sip of tincture, she would sigh in relief, so I knew it was doing its job making the pain manageable. I tried to be angry at the queen for taking her arm, but then I thought of the soldier Hipsie had maimed, probably lying in bed moaning every two hours as well. Did he have children? A wife? He shouldn’t have hurt me like he did, but he was just following orders.
By the morning, I was bleary-eyed and exhausted, but I also had my first day of school, which, as my father reminded me the night before, was mandatory.
My father hadn’t been given a job assignment yet and we had no food in the ice chest, so I’d have to fast until I could scrounge up something for dinner. I’d done a three-day water fast before. It was touted as a health benefit in our village, but also useful when food was low. We trained our bodies to go without food for small periods of time. The water here was plentiful and on tap, so I knew we’d be okay in the meantime.
Some broth would be great for Hipsie’s recovery, but I’d figure that out after school. After taking a bath and dressing in the same clothes I’d been wearing for two days, I stepped out into the living room to see my dad helping Hipsie drink some water. She’d slept the night on the couch with an extra blanket we’d found.
“Hey.” I waved at her, unsure what to say. I felt guilty knowing she’d lost her arm protecting me.
“Hey, kiddo.” She reached out to me with her good hand, and I gave her my gloved one and squeezed. I was wearing some thick, ugly work gloves my father had brought to me this morning. They were brown leather and bulky, but would have to do until I could repair the long slender ones I’d damaged by grabbing that burning blade like an idiot.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed, but Hipsie waved me off.
“Those bastards deserved what they got. I can still stir a pot with one arm, so I’ll be fine,” she grunted.
I couldn’t help but smile. I loved her. Everything about her, but especially her frank personality.
“So, you got magic?” she mused.
“Guess so.” I shrugged.
I was about to ask how her pain was when there was a knock at the door. “I got it,” I told my dad, a little nervous it was a guard here to get me in trouble for something.
When I pulled the door open, it revealed Eden, and she was carrying a large brown box. An older woman with bright red, curly hair stood beside her. It had to be her mother. She carried a steaming hot savory pie of some sort, if my nostrils smelled true.
“Wasn’t sure if you had a chance to get clothes or food yet?” Eden asked.
I shook my head, overcome with gratitude.
“Well, here. We look about the same size.” Eden held out the box and I took it from her, unable to find my voice.
“And I made a meat and potato pie.” The woman held it out, and my father swooped in and took it from her, their fingers grazing lightly.
The woman smiled at him.
“Thank you kindly,” he told her.
“This is my mom, Mable Westcourt,” Eden told me.
