Page 23 of Sinful

I fixed an amiable smile on my face. “Well, perhaps I can sway public opinion once I find out what really happened.”

From your beautiful daughter, while I stand over her with a belt wrapped around her neck.

Augustus stopped in his tracks again, eyes flickering with indecipherable emotion. “I have to be honest with you, Sebastian,” he said in a low voice. “I think that what you’re doing is very noble. Your mother deserves justice. But I believe some things must remain in the past.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I am not certain you will ever find what you are looking for, as much as I dearly wish you could. It happenedalmost twenty years ago. The perpetrators of her death may no longer be alive themselves,” he said. “And even if youdodiscover some truths during your mission… well, they may hurt you more than you can even comprehend in this moment.”

Was that a veiled threat? It certainly sounded like it.

My jaw clenched, and my hands curled into fists at my side once more. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, we shall.” Augustus turned his gaze back to the street. “Ah. We’re here.”

“Here?”

He gestured toward a half-timbered two-story building with a thatched roof on the other side of the street. “That is our tavern, where you will be staying. There are several rooms upstairs.”

“You have a tavern with accommodation even though you never let anyone stay here?” I asked, forehead wrinkling.

“The bar downstairs is a popular nighttime haunt for locals, and on occasion, they get so drunk they can barely stand,” Augustus replied, eyes glimmering with amusement. “It’s safer for them to sleep it off in a room there, rather than attempting to stumble home and possibly hurting themselves.”

“Ah.”

“We’ll get you settled in there later,” he said. “I’d like to show you some more of the town first, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure. But what do I owe you? I forgot to ask earlier.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“To let me stay.” I gestured toward the tavern. “Is it a nightly fee?”

Augustus chuckled. “Your money is no good here.”

“Why?”

“We don’t use money in this community.” He clicked a finger toward the street. “Now, let’s go. There’s something I’d really like to show you at the other end of town.”

As we continued down the main street, I attracted more curious stares from the locals. All were dressed in old-fashioned clothing—long, loose skirts and fitted bodices for the women, and linen shirts and plain trousers for the men. I kept an eye out for Rosamund, a curl of interest flickering inside me, but she didn’t reappear. Presumably, she was still hiding up in her room after the shock of coming face to face with me on this side of the boundary fence.

“That’s our bakery,” Augustus said, drawing my attention to a small, cozy looking building on the other side of the street. “You can go there for your breakfasts, if you like. The tavern also serves food. But I’m sure many people here would like to host you for meals. We also have community feasts on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.”

I frowned. “How do you have businesses like bakeries if you don’t use money here?”

“We all work together to build the community and keep it running smoothly. No one ever takes more than they need,” Augustus said. “We have someone for every job, and no job is considered lesser than another. See those two houses down the lane there?”

I nodded as I followed the direction of his gaze down a narrow offshoot lane. “Yes.”

“The left one belongs to one of our healers. Next door is one of the men who takes care of our community waste. In your society, I believe people would respect one of those jobs more than the other. But here, they are equals and receive equal respect and provision.”

“I see. How do you determine who does what job?”

Augustus smiled. “Good question. I mentioned earlier that we have a schoolhouse here, didn’t I?”

“Yes. I think you said your Rosamund works there, didn’t you?” I said, as if I hadn’t already memorized every sliver of the information he’d given me about his gorgeous young daughter.

“That’s right. As our children go through our schooling system, teachers make note of their individual skills and interests. We use that information to funnel them into different work paths once their education is complete,” he explained. “Of course, we don’t force anyone’s hand. If someone is unhappy with their work, we allow them to reskill in another trade.”

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