Page 40 of Lux

So why hasn’t he come?

“He won’t come,” I say out loud. “Caspian has abandoned me too. At least… I hope he has.”

It would be a betrayal worse than that of Night Aurelia, the woman who gave birth to me. The prospect hurts so damn much—almost as much as the prospect that he is in danger himself does. In any case I need to find him. Somehow…

“Oh dear, I’ve done it now,” Minchae murmurs. “I’m sorry, honey. I sometimes forget that I’m not the only one in the world with problems. Here.” She fishes something from the inner pocket of her robe and offers it to me. A delicate square of white fabric that she uses to dab away my falling tears. “Trust me, I know the feeling,” she says, once my face is patted dry. “I’ve been abandoned my fair share. Done plenty of abandoning too, on my end. I know how it feels. I know how utterly worthless the people you’re supposed to trust can make you feel.”

There is more she wants to say, but the words won’t come. They stick in her throat, as unvoiced intakes of air. Yet, she doesn’t cry. She bites her lip rather than let herself.

I try to embody the same determination. Enough tears. Enough wallowing. I am so very tired of wallowing. Caspian left me, yes. Night Aurelia left me. Day left me. Everyone, eventually, will leave me.

Except for Niamh. I can never leave me. That should be comfort enough.

Maybe it is.

“There is… There is something I should have told you before,” Minchae admits, fingering the dusty hem of her robe. “It’s awful of me, I know. I thought… I thought you were just like all the other girls. The other riffraff. They blow through here a dime a dozen, thinking they can charm their way from rags to riches. I’ve seen girls far uglier than you are charm those around them, get everyone to eat out of the palm of their hand to get benefits and special privileges the lot of us don’t.” She scoffs, scowling at the memories. “I thought you were like that too. Girls that like… Like me. We know better than to trust anyone else. We scheme and plot and stab each other in the back. It’s how we are. I thought you were like that too. Which is why…” She swallows hard and inclines her head, meeting my gaze through a fringe of black hair. “Which is why I was planning from the start to sell you out. Cyrus doesn’t leave his ledger in that fucking desk like an idiot. If that were the case, I would have stolen it a long time ago.”

She smiles a sad smile.

“No, he has it guarded by two jackdaws. I don’t know how the bastard came across them, but one jackdaw is vicious enough to take on, let alone two. The only way I feasibly saw a way around it was to find some stupid patsy to use as bait. Have them grab the journal, and while the jackdaws feast, take the blasted ledgerfor myself and run. It sounds like murder, I know it does.” Her face turns white as she shakes her head. “But if you were the kind of girl I thought you were, you’d have seen right through my act. You’dknow.You would come up with a scheme of your own and we’d stab each other in the back. We might both end up bloodied and busted for it, but alive at least. I thought you were like that.”

I sit quietly, taking in every word she said. The picture they paint is surreal. I may not know what a jackdaw is, but I recognize her barely suppressed shudder for what it is: utter terror. The creatures scare her. They ‘feast’ on victims, and she would have gladly served me up to save her own skin.

I should be angry.

I should feel even more pain.

More and more tears should fall down my face and I should curl into a ball of agonized loathing, never to move again.

Perhaps I will.

But…

I need to know.

“Who are you looking for?” I ask. More than once, she has referred to the ledger. Mentioned how valuable the information contained inside is—but she thought I was like her. Cunning and devious. Money alone would appeal to someone like that, and they would never stop to think what truth could actually be hiding underneath.

“I betrayed someone a long time ago,” Minchae says, her voice hoarse. “Someone I thought was a conner, but she was like you. She trusted me instantly like you do. I watched her be sold to the wolves. I owe her. I spent three damn years trying to findher, to make it right. I’ve been after that ledger for three whole fucking years!” She laughs, and an unfathomable sadness floods her gaze. “Her name is in it, and where she was sold to. I should want to find her badly enough to take on a whole fucking pack of jackdaws. She would do it for me, I know she would. But I’ve been scared to act for three fucking years…” She’s crying. Tears spill down her face more elegantly than they could ever adorn my own.

I reach toward her with her strip of fabric in hand. Carefully, I dab at her tears.

She laughs, frowning. “You know, it’s hard to believe this isn’t all an act. But it isn’t. Is it? You aren’t from…” She breaks off and inhales as if trying to find the right words. Then she leans closer, making her voice soft for only me to hear. “You aren’t a mundane, are you? You’re a pure-blooded fae.”

“Not pure,” I reply woodenly. “A half-breed. A hybrid of some sort.”

Or a monster, as Altaris claimed.

But Minchae doesn’t recoil in disgust and derision. “Holy fucking hell,” she rasps, her eyes wide. “You’re the real deal. In this place!” She glances around and leans in even closer. “If Cyrus finds out, he won’t just have you performing in his shows, honey. He’ll sell you off to the highest bidder. You should have gotten out of this place yesterday. There’s no telling what he'd do with an honest to God fae in his grasp. Forget the ledger. I’ll cause a distraction right now and you run. The bastard hasn’t chained you yet. They think you’re too weak. Go, now!” She lurches to her feet. “I’ll call the guards over and?—”

“Wait!” I reach out and brush my hand along her shoulder. I don’t know what else to do. Interacting with other beings at all is still so new to me. Even so, she pauses, her head cocked, body radiating nervous energy.

“What? Honey, we’ve got to get you out of here. It’s one thing if you were a mundane, but I would rather die than see that greedy bastard have a real payday fall into his lap.”

“I… I want the ledger,” I say. “I need it.”

More than anything else. More than the way I ache for Caspian, even. I need to see my mother’s face so badly it hurts. Even if it’s a sketch in a ledger. Even if it’s just her name.

Even a scrap of paper is something to cling to.

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