Page 2 of Jasmine's Enchanted Genie

I tugged the envelope off the door and went inside, smoothing my face into a smile and doing all I could to look pleasant and happy.

My sister’s chesty cough greeted me.

Our home consisted of one bedroom and an open area with a kitchen and a small place to sit in the evening. Lana lay on the sofa because it was much too cold in the bedroom we shared.

I hurried over to the stove and fed it sticks, noting I’d have to collect more soon. It didn’t provide much heat, but it was all we had.

“Jasmine?” Lana asked, stirring on the sofa.

“Good evening,” I said in a cheerful voice. I lifted the packets. “Look! I’ve bought plenty of medicine.”

“Wonderful.” Lana tucked back the blanket and rose, coming over to give me a hug, her body so frail, her bones bit into my flesh. The slight pain didn’t matter, though, as long as I could hold my sister. She leaned back in my embrace. “You sold the skirts and blouses you made, then?”

“Yes, for much more than I expected.” This wasn’t the truth. I’d barely made enough for the three days of medicine. “And I have a new commission, a blouse for Flo.”

“Flo’s sweet.”

I nodded and carried the rest of my purchases into the kitchen. “I thought I’d make a soup.” I lifted the chicken leg and vegetables I’d bought before going to Flo’s herbal shop. “The leg’s thick. It’ll make a nice, rich broth. And I bought bread too. Are you hungry?”

Lana walked slowly into the kitchen and perched on a stool, shrugging. “A bit.”

“Let me get it started, then.” In no time, the chicken simmered. Once it had cooked, I’d pick it clean and add the vegetables, plus a bit of flour to thicken it.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“Couldn’t be better.” I had to force cheer into my words.

“Cordellia wasn’t too mean, was she?”

“Oh, not at all. You know my boss. Most of the time, she’s kind.”

Lana’s low laugh rang out. “We may live in Forest Fable, and some may say it’s enchanted, but there’s not enough magic in our village to make Cordellia behave in a kind manner.”

“We get along well enough. She respects my work.”

“If only she also respected you.”

I sighed and started slicing the bread we could dip in our soup. I hadn’t been able to afford butter or jam for so long, I couldn’t remember how either tasted. “She will one day.”

Lana nudged her head toward the envelope I’d laid on the counter. “What’s that?”

“It was on the door. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Is the landlord raising the rent?”

“I’ll look at it later.”

“Open it now. If we need more money, I’ll find work to help pay.”

“I make enough for us both. You need to rest.” And heal. “When you’re better, I’ll take time off, and you can work for the chicken.”

She scoffed. “I hope that day comes soon. You work too hard, Jasmine.”

If only I could work harder. Maybe then we’d have more. But such was the life of a street rat—something the palace guard once called me as I scurried past on my way to work.

When the soup was finished, I served her a generous bowl, laying two slices of bread beside it.

I joined her at the small table while she ate.

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