Page 8 of A Slipper in the Smoke
“And I’ll never see a penny of it.”
Ivanka stilled, lips tightening. “I arranged the job, not Mother,” she continued. “I convinced her that it was time for me to take on a share of the household tasks, ease the burden.”
Elena waited for her to explain.
“She doesn’t need to know how much they’re paying you, all right? I’ll pay you a sliver of it directly. You can do whatever you like with it. Buy yourself some food, some better tools.A hairbrush.I don’t care.”
In a different world, in another life, Elena would have argued for more than a sliver. It washerwork, her time. She deserved it. She knew she did.
But what people deserved and what people got in this world did not always match up. Ivanka probably couldn’t give her any more anyway, not with her mother watching. It was not worth the risk.
Slow but steady wins the race.
Elena opened her mouth to say something, but the words fell away from her.
“A ‘thank you’ will suffice,” said Ivanka.
“Thank you,” Elena muttered.
Ivanka straightened herself. “You’re welcome. You might even like it up there. Stars know you won’t be missed at home.”
I’m not missed anywhere.
Ivanka turned to leave.
“You could have told me this tomorrow,” Elena said.
Ivanka paused, pulling up her mask again. “Mariah overheard what Mother said to you,” she whispered, voice muffled. “She thought you might be hungry. Wanted to bring you something… Wasn’t going to have her walk down here on her own. ” She pointed to the basket on the table. “You say anything to Mother about me coming down here, or anyone, you’re dead, you hear?”
“I hear.”
“Good.”
She kicked the bottom of the door with her high-heeled boot, gesturing for Elena to release her. Elena did so, securing the door behind her.
Snowdrop tumbled out of the workbench shortly after the room fell quiet again, pulling herself to her feet. She leaned heavily against the furniture, not putting any weight on her leg. “Your stepsister is a real piece of work.”
“Believe it or not, that was one of her better days.” She paused. “How did you know she was my stepsister?”
“An educated guess. The way she talked about ‘Mother’ but didn’t have your accent. Plus, you already told me your father remarried so…” She waited, looking at Elena intently. “How come your stepfamily is taking all your money?”
Elena sighed, rubbing her temples with her calloused fingers. “Officially, board and lodgings.”
“An unofficially?”
Elena stilled, wondering if the words would even leave her tongue, the ones that pulsed inside her but had never been spoken, never aloud. “I’m their prisoner,” she whispered. “Or their servant.”
Snowdrop squared up to her. “You have the Cross-Star carved beneath your bench.”
“So?”
“Symbols of worship are a crime in Petragrad.”
“I don’t see why—”
“You aren’t a prisoner,” Snowdrop said, blueeyes blazing, “you’re a rebel.”
Elena backed into a counter, sending a roll of coils springing. The automatons whizzed around the room, and it seemed for a moment like she was back in Navarra, a chorus of insects screeching round her head. Only there was nothing comforting about the sound, more disconcerting, like a dream twisting into a nightmare.
