Page 94 of Sweetling
Molly blinked, the believable explanation catching her off guard.
“You promised…”
“Money only goes so far, Moll. We’ve been doing the best we can without you.”
With another glare, Nora went off to wipe down tables, abandoning Molly at the bar. Her deflated anger left the crust of her indignation to crumble.
Looking back at her littlest cousins, though, Molly couldn’t quite believe the easy excuse. She was happy for Bryan—he’d wanted to train for a knighthood since he was a boy of three. Training and earning your spurs of course cost a good deal, which was why most knights were sponsored by their well-to-do families. It wouldn’t be easy for a young man from the poor side of Dundúran, especially one considered old for squiring. But all of what Allarion had given Brom…?
Forcing a smile, Molly returned to the girls and drew them to the back, where the staircase up to the living quarters stood. Sitting on the steps, she pulled them in close to kiss each on the cheek.
“Enough of that,” she said. “Tell me everything that’s happened.”
It took a bit of coaxing, but soon the girls were talking over each other, telling her all about their recent lessons in school, any neighborhood gossip they’d heard, and their more colorful experiences so far of working in the tavern.
Molly listened to it all, a gnawing fury eating at her gut. She herself had been young when Brom put her to work in the tavern, but that was different.Shewas different. Hearing of shy, brilliant Merry having to clean up after drunk men rather than studying, of boisterous Rory being yelled at by patrons to hurry up, of little Oona washing tankards in scalding hot water—it devastated her.
The girls covered their unhappiness well, but Molly saw the signs. They were tired, discouraged. They should have been studying at school in the day and playing with their friends from the neighborhood in the evening. Many others in the neighborhood worked hard to support their families, but all understood the importance of education. The late Lady Róisín Darrow had established schools throughout the city for all of Dundúran’s children.
On quiet nights at Scarborough, Molly sometimes tried to better her reading and writing, making up for what she should’ve learned as a girl. That wasn’t supposed to be her cousins’ fates, too.
She spoke with the girls for over an hour but learned nothing specific that would shed light on where the money had truly gone. As the shadows lengthened with the afternoon, more patrons began to wander in, and Brom called for the girls to come help Nora.
Molly bit back her arguments, a sick feeling settling in her belly watching them get to work.
This is wrong.She had to do something. Allarion probably wouldn’t like it, but she couldn’t leave her cousins to fend for themselves like this.
A plan began to form in her mind, and when Nora next passed by, fetching something from the back, Molly tried to grab her. The girl was slippery and wriggled out of her grip.
“Don’t,” Nora hissed, “myragsmight get you dirty.”
Molly ignored the jab, even if it hit its target on the head, and reached to take Nora’s hand. “Is it true, Nora? Is the money all gone?”
She rolled her eyes. “Papa drank an awful lot right after you left. Bought himself some nice boots and there were a lot of…” Her cheeks pinkened and her gaze skittered away. “A lot ofladiescoming by at night.”
Molly just held in the keening wail of anger that wanted to erupt from her throat. Brom had squandered the money onwhoresandbooze. It was such an unimaginative, cliché thing, but Molly found it far more believable than all the money being used on Bryan.
Pulling out of Molly’s grip, Nora sneered, “Maybe your fae man didn’t pay as much for you as you thought.”
Molly understood now that that was far from the case—Allarion truly would have paid any price. She’d seen the sack of coins with her own eyes.
She thought it would’ve been enough.
Itshould havebeen enough.
Molly waited to feel that familiar burn of temper—Brom certainly deserved the true heat of her ire for this. Yet, Nora’s waspishness only threw sand on the bonfire of her anger. An aching sadness was all she could muster, for really, this was her own fault, too.
She’d left the girls. She should’ve known better—Brom couldn’t be trusted to do what was best for them. He couldn’t run the tavern on his own; that was painfully obvious by the state of it. The girls were far too young to be helping him, and this was a dangerous place for girls.
Molly still resented being exposed to it so young, but she’d done it so Nora and the others wouldn’t have to.
That sacrifice had been for nothing. Her bride price had been for nothing.
“Ya know, if you really wanted to help your family, you could pitch in!” Brom called down the hall.
Stepping away, Nora said, “Just go. You’ve already left, anyway.”
“Nora…”
