Page 4 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

Ethalie stares at the gold. “What kind of extra job?”

“Dancing.”

For a second I think she’ll question me further, but I should know better. She never asks how I am or what I’m feeling. She doesn’t want to know.

Ethalie sets her mending aside and goes into the second bedroom to fetch Lark. He’s tousled, sleepy, wearing his usual scowl. It hurts me that he’s perpetually angry at such a young age. But he’s sharp for his years, and I can trust him to haggle effectively and to make sure his mother only buys what we need.

My sister collects the list and the canvas shopping bags and they leave, coins in hand. With the shopping under way, my next priority is the rent.

The landlady lives on the topmost floor of the building, where there are fewer pests, less moisture, and milder smells. She and her partner cultivate a thriving rooftop garden, complete with a greenhouse. We can’t afford their produce—it’s of such high quality that only the nobles can purchase it. Lark used to make a little side money delivering produce orders to the kitchens of the nobility, until our landlady realized he was pilfering some of the goods. She agreed not to go to theauthorities about it, but she raised our rent to offset the cost of the theft.

At this point, we’re so far behind that we have until sunset to pay, or the landlady will have the city watch throw us out into the street. I should go pay her now, but I can’t shake the sensation of Lord Neran’s greasy fingers, hairy belly, and sloppy mouth all over my body. I need to wash him off before I do anything else.

I walk through the second bedroom, glancing at the bulk of Ethalie’s mother-in-law beneath the covers. Miri is sitting on the trundle bed, playing with a stained rag doll. I give her a quick hug, but neither of us speak because if her grandmother is awakened abruptly, she’ll make life miserable for everyone around her.

Heading into the bathroom, I wash my face and arms at the sink with a sliver of soap and cold water. Lord Neran didn’t offer to let me bathe at his house. He said he wanted me to leave smelling like him.

At the memory of those words and the look on his face, I drop to my knees beside the wooden toilet and vomit, pinning my hair to my shoulder so it won’t be soiled. But after wiping my mouth, I catch a whiff of an odor I learned all too well last night. When I pull my hair under my nose, I realize with hideous shock that it smells like Lord Neran’s body odor… and his cum.

I shouldn’t try to wash it now. With hair this long, it takes forever, and I don’t have the time. But I can’t exist with this odor on me. I need to be rid of it. Rid ofhim.

A warm bath is a luxury I shouldn’t permit myself, even if by some miracle the hot water is working today. We’ll be charged extra for the water usage. But I have enough money to cover the bill, and for my own sanity, I need this.

I grip the lever of the spigot and wrench it to the left, watching the water spit jerkily into the copper tub. When I testit with my fingers, it’s not hot, but at least it’s lukewarm. I shove the plug into the drain and wait for the tub to fill.

The bathroom door creaks open. “Why are you taking a bath, Auntie Jess?” says Miri. “It’s not bath day. Are you very dirty?”

I look into her wide, innocent eyes. “Yes, love. I’m dirty, and I’m tired.”

She nods sagely. “You deserve a nice bath. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” She slips out, closing the door behind her.

This household doesn’t deserve that child. She’s too pure and too sweet for a place like this, for a fucking world like this. No matter what it takes, I will protect her.

I fill the tub with just enough warm water for me to wash my hair. Afterward I wring it out and braid it tightly before putting on my favorite blue dress. I’ve had to keep a few pieces of finery around in case I need to attend a palace event. This dress has a stain, so it’s not acceptable for court, but it’s lovely and comfortable.

The landlady doesn’t like it when I show up in my dance costume or in shabby clothing, so hopefully this dress will please her. I plan to ask her to reduce our rent for the remainder of the year. Surely we’ve paid the penalty for Lark’s theft by now. Besides which, the war should be driving rent down as those who can afford to leave the city flee to distant villages where they feel safer.

Shortly after I finish dressing, Lark and Ethalie return. The men are beginning to stir and demand a hot meal.

“Cook it yourself,” I mutter, knowing my words won’t do any good. Ethalie will always give in and cook for them.

“What are you doing home at this hour?” Bryon squints at me. “Shouldn’t you be stretching and preening in some fancy palace lounge?”

Loram snorts a laugh. “Wish I could get paid a nice fat salary for flouncing around the palace in my underwear.”

Both of them guffaw loudly. Loram’s mother shuffles into the room, and when she discovers what they’re laughing about, she joins in the mockery at my expense.

I could remind them who pays for literally everything they use or enjoy, but it would only feed their self-pitying narrative in which I’m the rich bitch who gets paid a fortune for doing nothing and therefore should provide for everyone else.

Instead I ignore them and give Ethalie strict instructions for how the food is to be doled out over the next week. Then there’s lunch to be made, mending to finish, and chores to be done. When I finally glance at the clock, I’m shocked to find that it’s mid-afternoon already.

“Shit,” I exclaim. “I need to go pay the rent, or the landlady will throw us out tonight.”

Bryon snorts. “That windbag is always threatening. Never follows through.”

“She will this time.”

“So you got paid?” Loram’s eyes flick to my bag, which sits against the wall. I haven’t let it out of my sight since I got home.

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