Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Because I am you.” I have to clear my throat. “I’ve worked as you are, and I’ve been alone, and I’ve been convinced nothing can or will change. Let me help you.”
She looks away from me, and I study her profile.
“You can trust me.”
“You can’t help me.” Her hand lifts to her cheek, the fingertips skipping along the surface of where she’s been hit. “It’s always thus with him. Since he bought me from my parents five years ago.”
I smoother the urge to scream that she was bartered for. “Don’t you want something else? You make the bread, don’t you? And you clean. Wouldn’t you like a position in a safe home or an inn?”
I think of the dead cows outside of my village and of the Fulcrum. Some savior I am, promising things I fear cannot be delivered anywhere in Anathos.
I place my hand over my heart. “I will help you.”
The maid looks over my shoulder toward the massive hearth. “He needs me to work herein.”
“You owe him nothing, and you shouldn’t feel bad for saving yourself—”
“No, he’s not going to kill me because he needs the labor. He’s careful only to correct me so far as I can heal from.”
Lowering my head, cold despair washes through my whole body … as well as a hot fury. “There are others who work here. I beg of you, fate is offering you an exit—”
“He’ll go after my sister.” The maid rubs the back of her neck like it hurts. “She was part of the brokerage, but she was bought by the stable master. He’s a kind man, and he and his wife have treated her well. She needs to stay with them.”
Frowning, I speak of strangers as if I know them. “So they’ll protect her—”
“He tells me that will not matter.” Her hands tangle in front of her chest, as if her heart is skipping beats. “She’ll be forced to fulfill both obligations. He says that is the way of twins in the law here. We are indivisible, and so he will do what he’s done to me … to my sister.” There’s a pause. “All of it.”
Those hands pull the collar of her undershirt closer together at the base of her neck.
There’s a thump and a rustling in whatever room is beyond, and the maid begins to tremble. “You must go—”
“Let me help you—”
“No.”
She slips back through the portal, and I feel as though I’ve just watched her disappear into her grave. My first and only instinct is to go in after her, but I know if I’m caught here by the cook, there’s no doubt what the consequences will be.
My seeing her death and trying to do something about it … will cause her to be murdered.
I hurry out, hating every step that carries me away. I wish I were as physically strong as Merc. I wish I could wield a broadsword and behead that cruel, bullying ogre.
As I emerge into the pub proper, I can feel a dark energy flowing through me, and instead of being horrified by it, I find myself embracing the wrath and anger. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t care as I round the base of the stairs and start my ascent. With every step, I imagine a different demise for that bloated drunk who’s terrorizing that innocent girl—and doing more than just beat her.
I’d kill him with my bare hands if I—
My feet come to a halt halfway up, and an odd tunneling of my vision occurs. As my sight dims, my hearing becomes more acute, and I look down.
Through the loosely nailed boards of the steps, I hear the voices, back and forth. The low, slurred deep one, the meek, higher-pitched one. The cook has roused, maybe because of my interruption. Closing my eyes, I pray that I’m wrong about what I’ve been shown.
Even though I know I am not.
Every instinct in me tells me to go down there and put myself between them, bodily. But that will just put her in more danger—
“Get out,” he bellows. “You worthless whore—get the grain!”
There is a scampering and a door closes.
I exhale, even as I know this is no reprieve for her. Just a pause in the destiny that’s coming like a reaper.
From out of a part of me that I don’t recognize, a conviction takes root and begins to grow. I tell myself it’s wrong, on so many levels. When you can’t live with inaction, however, you don’t always get to choose the trail you’re set upon.
As I lift my foot up and place it on the next step, I’m aware that I’ve made a decision, and I spend the rest of the stairs trying to find a way around it. The time is now, however.
Just as I reach the top, the door of the room before me opens—