She looked up slowly, as if she’d forgotten I was there or, more accurately, hadn’t bothered to notice. “You have always been spoiled from the moment you burst from my womb.”
“What of the thousands ofoyistaI have already given you, Maman?” I repeated, my shoulders trembling as I rolled to my knees on the threadbare mattress.
“Thatoyistawas rightfully mine to do with as I pleased.” A sound of disgust slipped through my teeth and her eyes flared with heat. “I made you what you are. I am the reason for your success, for yourhappiness.”
Tears clung to my lashes before I could stop them and Ilaughed bitterly. Jules was the reason for my happiness. She had taken me in when I’d been no better than a stray, showing me a kindness I had never known.
“Give me the pin, Maman.” I didn’t know why I was so fixated on the hairpin. Perhaps because it was a tangible reminder of Eamon’s care—he’d noticed my old one was ruined and slipped the new one into my hair. He’d never said a word, only kissed my shoulder and asked if I’d eaten.
I should have known better than to reach for it. The second my arm extended hers came flying. She hit me so hard I fell sideways onto the mattress while pain tore through my cheek. But she didn’t relent, following me down and pressing my face into the sheets until my chest screamed for air. I slapped at her wrists. The sheer strength of her was alarming.
“You are only as good as what you can provide and, once you cannot, you will be thrown out like the trash you are.”
Though I could see nothing, a deeper black pulsed at the edges of my vision while my heartbeat ripped through my chest. Her weight disappeared a moment later and I gasped for breath. Fire burned through my lungs as I tried to gulp in air, a sickening lurch of the room threatening to take what little food I’d eaten yesterday.
“Do not forget why you are there, Adrienne. That leech has filled your head with nonsense the way they all do. This”—she held up the gold pin, the sharp ends smeared a dark red—“is nothing more than a request for an invitation between your legs. These”—another gesture toward the dresses—“are nothing more than polishing an object that he believes he owns.”
Each word cut deeper than the next until I was sure I would look down to see blood spilling over my chest. A steady dripping fell across the back of my hand and I startled before touching my face and the gash she’d left.
“Marcus, Fyon, Brigette.” She sneered the names of theimmortals who had been her mates. “Allow their names to be a reminder of what is to come.”
I wanted to ask her how she’d become so cruel, but I knew the answer: the world had made her so. Just as I had been molded by her hands, so had she been molded by the immortals who’d cast her off. Pity slid through the cracks in my anger until my bones hurt and my head spun. I said nothing as she gathered up everything I’d come with, including my valise, knowing she considered it a kindness leaving me the dress and shoes I’d traveled in.
Silence fell as she made her way out of the house to whatever trader would give her the coin for my belongings. Blood slid down my face, dripping onto my hands and staining my chemise. I grimaced while looking around the room and noting there was not a single clean thing I could use. She’d taken my corset, so I slipped on my dress from yesterday, using the lining to wipe away the worst of it. It wouldn’t do much good when the gash was still bleeding, but I didn’t want to risk infection.
I folded Louis’ blankets neatly, leaning back to avoid getting any more blood on them and grateful at least I’d given him the items I’d brought before she could take those. Once again, I would leave him behind, though I fought the urge to scream at the thought of him staying here. Soon he would be free of this place, I had to believe that, but the last thing I wanted to do was go to the docks and force him to see what she’d done. So, once I’d dressed, I made my way out of the house, resolving I would send a letter to the dockmaster for him when I returned home.
Home.
The streets were quiet as I started down them, hoping my hair hid the worst of the injury. In my head, I played the melody I’d been composing for the last month, fingers tapping against my mussed skirts. I ignored thecommunal fire most people were heading toward, where my father probably was—where healwayswas. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the city in the distance. It would be a long walk, but I hoped perhaps by nightfall I would make my way to the Vyenurs stationed on the ramparts and rest with them while I waited for the carriage.
The moment I came into the center of town, a hand wrapped around my arm, turning me.
“Merciful fucking goddess,” a male cursed, dark eyes scanning my face. “Come on.”
I blinked away the haze covering my vision, my mouth opening then closing. “R-Ralph?”
He gathered me under his arm and ushered me toward the main road that would take us to the inner city. “Where’s your valise?”
I didn’t answer and he growled low in his chest. Hair pricked on the back of my neck, but he only squeezed me a little tighter, his hand smoothing up and down my arm in what I imagined was a paternal sort of way. I clenched my jaw, fighting the sob as the carriage appeared around the next corner and and he opened the door.
“Here we go, Mademoiselle,” he murmured so gently my eyes pricked with tears.
His hands were gentle as he settled me into the box and my eyes pricked with tears at the careful way he pushed back my hair to see the cut. After a moment of inspection, he disappeared and the carriage shifted as he climbed to the driver’s bench. When he returned, he had a linen cloth in one hand and a flask in the other, tugging the cap open with his teeth.
“This will hurt worse than a venefica bite on the ass,” he muttered, pouring the clear liquid over the cloth. “But should keep it clean until we get you home. Ready?”
I nodded, clenching my jaw as he leaned forward and wiped the cut on my cheek. A squeal wrenched its way up mythroat and I jerked away, only for him to shush me like I was a bird with a broken wing.
“One more time, then we’ll go,” he soothed and I allowed him to wipe it across the cut again, squeezing my eyes shut and fisting my hands in my wrinkled and bloodied skirt. “There we go. Well done.”
I was grateful he said nothing else, only patted my hand, closed the door, and climbed up onto the bench. By the time we slipped through the center of the city, I’d cried most of my tears. The melody in my head had become broken and out of tune. My face was swollen and hot, the gash on my cheek crusted with new blood, and the sun was setting. I didn’t need to ask where we were going when we passed the Rachay market and then the Souzterain, making our way through the other side of the city and into the countryside. But tension rolled through me as the distance closed between us and Eamon’s estate until I was trembling with it.
You are only as good as what you can provide.
The sun still burned low in the sky when we made it to the gilded house. Ralph jumped from the bench and opened my door. A streak of darkness sliced across the fiery sky as Eamon appeared in front of me just before I could step out of the carriage. His citrine eyes were wide and a muscle jumped in his jaw as he looked me over. But when he raised his hands to touch my face, I flinched away.
And once you cannot, you will be thrown out like the trash you are.
