Page 6 of Daughter of No Worlds

“Valuable indeed,” I cooed instead. “But so is she, isn’t she?” The butterfly’s wings trembled against my fingertips. I closed my fingers around it, and when I opened them, a little glass version of my illusion sat in my palm. For a moment I couldn't help but admire it, proud of myself. This was a new addition to my routine.

The merchant’s eyebrows arched, and I felt his impressed surprise rippling the inches between our faces.

“For you.”

“That is incredible.” The man’s pleasant smile split into a full-on grin. In that awestruck gaze, I could see what he might have looked like as a child, enthralled by some circus acrobat or shiny bauble. When those beautiful eyes met mine again, we shared a moment of genuine connection.

And then he reached into his pocket. “Foryou.” He took the glass butterfly from my hand, and in its place, dropped five gold coins into my palm.

Five.

Gold.

I blinked down at them, momentarily speechless. I wasn’t a fool — I knew that there was a reason why he dropped the pieces so loudly into my hand, why he was doing this while everyone’s eyes were on us. It was bold, even rude, of him to give me money without so much as seeking a glance of wordless permission from Esmaris, never mind money likethis. Many did not like their slaves to have money at all, and more still did not like that money to come from other men. In both of these ways, Esmaris was quite liberal, butfive goldwas skirting the bounds of respectability by any measure.

One thousand and two.

I wasn’t expecting to hit that number that night, or the night after, or after that. I was lucky if I left one of Esmaris’s parties with ten silver pieces.

One thousand and two. One thousand and two.

“Thank you,” I choked out, forgetting to be coquettish. I closed the coins in my palm, relishing their weight as I slipped them into the tiny silk purse at my hip. “Thank you.”

The man smiled and nodded at me, oblivious to what he had just done for me.

Excitement and elation bubbled up inside of me. For a moment, I was lost in it. Then the sound of the harp came roaring back, and I realized that I almost missed my cue.

I wanted to jump up and down and spin around and laugh. But I had hours of performing left to do. So I began to count again.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Before I twirled away, I ran my fingertips along the merchant’s cheek, through his admirable thick curls. And I smiled, and smiled, and smiled. As I cascaded across the marble floor, Serel caught my eye from across the room and cocked his head, asking me a silent question. In response, I only grinned. Perhaps he would know what it meant.

One thousand and two.

One thousand gold was the price of my freedom.

Chapter Two

“One thousand.” Serel echoed the number that had been circling my thoughts all night, letting out a whistle of amazement. He ran a hand through blond hair, pushing it away from his face. “You did it. How did you even manage that?”

“Eight years,” I murmured. Mostly to myself, because a part of me still couldn’t believe it. “Eight years of work.”

I folded my hands over my stomach, blinking up at the ceiling. Serel and I laid splayed out on the floor of my modest bedchamber, exhausted. The party had gone on until the small hours of the morning, and while Serel had clearly been ready to retreat to his own room and crawl into bed, I dragged him to mine. I had to tellsomeone, and Serel was the only one I trusted enough.

I wouldn’t sleep that night, I already knew. I was so excited that my hands still trembled now, hours later. It killed me that I couldn’t meet with Esmaris tonight, dump that pile of gold on his desk, and walk away. It would probably be another day or two before he had the time to arrange a private meeting with me.

“He never toldmeI could buy my freedom,” Serel grumbled.

“I asked him.”

“Of course you did.”

“Well… demanded, I suppose.”

“Ofcourseyou did.”

I let out a small chuckle. Esmaris had owned me for perhaps a year at that point, and I recalled feeling rich the first time I performed at one of his parties, where guests tossed a few silver coins at me here and there. Over the course of the year, I hoarded them until I had a grand total of fifty silver pieces — half a single gold piece. To me, a little girl from a village that dealt mostly in trade, that was a mind-boggling amount of money. The moment I got my fiftieth piece, I marched up to Esmaris, thrust the pile of coins into his hands, and announced that I was buying myself back from him. “Surely this is a good price,” I had told him, careful to sound much more confident than I felt. I had already learned by then that everything in this life needed to be a performance.

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