Page 13 of A Court Bright and Broken

“Not so different from Castleton,” I said. “Same central square, same stone cottages, a few tradesmen and one merchant, lots of farmers. Hard-working folks.”

My tone turned darker. “Plenty of poverty and hunger, thanks to the unfair tithe the Fae king puts on us.”

Sam stiffened beside me, and I looked to see if he’d stepped into another hole, but the road seemed fairly smooth.

“Is it your ribs?” I asked. “Can you still breathe all right? I’m worried your lungs will be punctured with all this movement.”

“I’m fine,” he assured me, hissing the words through his clamped jaws. “Go on.”

I searched my mind for any other details of my life that might interest him and distract him from the pain.

“There’s a lovely wide stream near our village. It’s surrounded by wildflowers. My little sisters love to splash in the shallows while I’m washing the clothing and dishes.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Two. Tindra and Turi. Eight and four years old. Sweet girls… small for their age but very clever. Tindra learned to read so quickly, and Turi’s learning already.”

“You’re teaching them? You can read?”

I could tell he was surprised. Many people of our class couldn’t read. I was grateful my mother had taught me and that I, in turn, was able to teach my younger sisters.

“Yes. It’s one of the great joys of my life,” I told him. “I highly recommend learning if you ever get the chance. Do you know of anyone literate where you live?”

“One or two,” he said.

“Of course it’s not easy to come by books,” I said in an understanding tone. “I was very lucky my mother brought acollection with her when she left her home and married my father.”

“What do your parents do–for a trade, I mean?” Sam asked.

“My father used to be a blacksmith before the rebellion. He was injured in battle though and hasn’t been able to work much since—his back injury prevents him from doing much at all. Lost his sight as well. He does what he can these days, taking in jobs sharpening hunting knives and harvesting tools… when he’s not in too much pain.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s dead,” I said flatly. There was no pleasant way to recount one of the worst things that had ever happened in your life.

“Mine too,” Sam said. “She died a few years back.”

My heart tugged in his direction, echoing his pain. I suddenly felt a bit of connection to this stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“I’m sorry for your loss as well.”

It was a life-changing thing to lose your mother at any age. I was lucky to have been able to keep mine until four years ago when I was sixteen. She’d died in the same battle that had left my father crippled and blind.

Unfortunately, Tindra and Turi were much younger when they’d lost their mother. They were my step-sisters.

Their mother, Inge, had been widowed during the rebellion and had married my father only about six months after their respective spouses were killed.

It was a matter of practicality—she’d needed help with her young children, and he’d needed help with household chores and a daughter of his own to raise. I was sure he’d thought it would be good for me to have a woman around, too, though Inge had never seemed like a mother to me.

Then she’d taken ill last year and had passed away quickly, leaving me to take care of the girls as well as my father.

“There must be a young man waiting for you back in your village,” Sam said in a tone that suggested it was a foregone conclusion.

“Actually, no. There’s no one,” I told him. “I doubt I shall ever marry.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe that. What’s wrong with the men in your village? Or is it that you haven’t identified one you like well enough?”

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