I’m weak and I’m alone, and in only six weeks, I’ve gotten the look of someone who’s caved in on herself. There’s just hollow spaces filled with broken walls and ragged pains, too much heaped in to ever be cleared out.
I hate that my bottom lip quivers, hate how small I feel. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to try.”
Natia doesn’t soften, doesn’t give me a kindly pat on the shoulder or tell me it’s all going to be okay. Instead, she shoves the pouch of coins at my chest so hard that it makes me stumble back a step as I quickly catch it.
“Either do it or don’t. Makes no difference to me,” she says matter-of-factly. “Though, it seems to me that trying and failing is better than giving up.” Her eyes scour mine like a soundless lecture. “Shove down weakness, and strength will rise. You can’t be strong without conquering those weaknesses first. That’s what I think, anyway.”
A chill travels down my spine as my fingers clutch onto the pouch, the edges of dirty money digging against my hold.
“Now go on and get out of here. I have customers waiting downstairs, and I still have to air this room out and get new bedding on. I can’t be wagging jaws all hours of the day when there’s work to do.” Giving one last stern look at me, Natia crosses the room and grabs the pile of soiled linens in her capable hands. Then she leaves without another word, while my ears pound with everything she already said.
I stare and stare at the pouch of coins in my hand, wondering if I dare, wondering how much it would cost me to bribe a captain for passage. I loosen the ties and dip my fingers in, pulling out a single golden coin, the sides worn and grimy.
I twirl it around, asking myself if I really have it in me to try. Maybe Natia is right. Maybe it is better to try and fail than to be the given-up girl.
At hearing a sound in the hall, I quickly drop the coin back in and cinch the pouch tight before I bury it in my pocket for safekeeping. But...is it enough? Do I need more?
As I hurry out of the room, my skin pinches and jumps again, but this time, it isn’t on my back.
It’s on my fingertips.
I’m plucked out of the memory when my bedroom door slams closed.
My eyes fly over to where Midas stands, and I immediately tense up. The anger on his tanned face makes his handsomeness drain away, replaced with something ugly, something that makes my stomach ache. My mind falters for a moment under his glare. It’s muscle memory, or maybe mind memory—something that makes me almost revert to old behaviors. The urge to placate, to please, is strong.
He’s trained me very well.
Rather than give in, I call up on that anger, stoke the coals of its justified smolder, and I manage to get my shit together.
“Midas, how are you?” I ask with practiced pleasantness as I get to my feet and head over to the bed so I can keep space between us.
“How am I?” he repeats, throwing a hand in the direction of the door. “I was just informed that you’ve been traipsing around the castle grounds all day.”
I gauge his anger and decide to play stupid. Acting oblivious, I begin to fluff the pillows on the bed. “I did,” I say brightly. “It was great. I didn’t get into the library, but I saw loads of other rooms, and Ranhold seems nice. Although, it seems to have a bit of a draft problem inside, don’t you think? My guess would be porous wood used for the window frames. Bad planning.”
Midas gets the most incredulous expression on his face while I continue to mess with the pillows. I shake one of the larger ones quite vigorously, and then—“Fluff this one for me, will you?” I chuck it at him as hard as I can before all the words even leave my mouth.
The golden satin slams into Midas’s face, feathers bending around his head with a satisfying thump. Juvenile, sure. But it does wonders for my morale.
By the time he yanks it down and holds it at his side, I’m already busy straightening the blankets. I can see him in my peripheral as his grip tightens around the pillow.
“Auren.”
I glance over at him. “Yes?”
“The cage—”
I immediately straighten up, all
pretenses of my false brightness gone as furious fire flares in me. “No.” I won’t stand to hear that word come out of his mouth. I’ll play a part here because I need time and a plan, but if he tries anything with a Divine-damned cage again, I will rage.
Midas hesitates, brown eyes calculating as he assesses the snap-change of my demeanor. After a moment, he seems to decide on a different direction. “It’s too dangerous for you to be out wandering the castle without me.”
“I had two guards with me.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone is a danger to you. You know this. You can’t trust people. Especially when I hear that Ravinger went near you again,” he grits out.
My spine stiffens. “He just happened to be on the wall when I was there,” I defend.