A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

“Farah . . .”

Her eyes narrowed at my dark tone. “I thought you’d want to know. But now I can see that you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But now I know. This is why you don’t meddle around in other people’s lives!”

She glanced down at the cards spread out in front of her, dismissing me. “You should be happy that someone even wants you with that temper.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I would be a prime catch for anyone.”

“That’s your subjective opinion,” she muttered, shuffling some cards around.

My eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

She frowned but didn’t answer.

Then I got a good look at those cards. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not predicting anyone’s future in this house!” I snatched the cards off the bed, still holding onto the stupid charm.

“Hey!” She lunged at me, but I was already sprinting barefoot down the hallway and skidding to a stop in front of the stairs before taking two at a time.

“I swear I’m going to wring your neck, you witch!” Farah called close behind me.

“Fine! As long as you don’t dig around in my future!”

“You aren’t going to have a future!”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I said breathlessly, hopping off the last stair. “Before you know it, you’re telling someone they’ll die, and then you ruin their bloody last days!”

I came to a stop, out of breath, before throwing the cards and charm in the fountain. Farah bumped into me, and I lost my balance, teetering over the stone ledge; I grabbed her arm for leverage, but with a cry, we both fell into the cold water with a splash.

Farah sputtered, the stone woman pouring water right on her head. “My hair!” she growled, moving out of its way, and pushed the wet curls out of her face.

We eyed the cards floating around us, silently.

I sat in water up to my waist. It actually felt pretty nice; the water was cool against the hot, sticky air that had been torture all morning.

Once the shock wore off and an angry silence spanned between us, I became aware of women’s laughter. Farah pulled herself out of the water, eyeing me with a look I was familiar with. The last time I’d

messed with her things, it’d gotten me as far as the palace dungeons. It might have worked in my favor, but still, she would get me back for this.

I swallowed, glancing down at the little silver charm that floated past me in the water: a woman with her head back, her lips parted, in the throes of passion. Sexual awakening.

Now I had to watch my back for, what looked like, immense pleasure from finding me.

Huh. Maybe I’d overreacted . . .

It was a little later when Henry banged on my bedroom door. Yes, Henry. That seven-year-old boy who thought himself man enough to walk into a brothel.

“What on Alyria do you think you’re doing here?” I asked as soon as I noticed him on the other side of the door.

“I closed my eyes the whole way, just like Momma said,” he grumbled. “How else was I gonna tell ya that she needs ya?”

I frowned. “What for?”

Tash eyed me with disdain like I was a real whore before jumping on my desk and throwing my brush over his shoulder as he dug through stuff.

“Maranda’s sick and, with the dinghy races at the docks, Momma can’t keep up with it all! She told me to tell you that she’d pay you more than any patrons you could squeeze into the whole day.”

I groaned. I didn’t really want to watch the races like the other girls, but I really didn’t want to serve handsy men ale all day. I had told the doormen when I got back from that creepy well incident to tell my mother or Clinton I was out if they came by. I’d dodged them so far, and I knew the last place they’d look for me was as a barmaid in a back-alley tavern. Just for the festival, I wanted to live like I didn’t have to marry some stranger in less than a month.