Page 25 of A Court Bright and Broken

“Something?” Turi echoed. She adored her older sister and tried to emulate her in all ways.

As I hugged them, I felt their ribs and the bony knobs of their backbones. Was it possible they were even thinner than they’d been when I’d left this morning?

An ache that had nothing to do with my own empty stomach filled me.

“I’m afraid not,” I answered honestly, “But I’ll put supper on right away. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

It would be beans with watercress and wild onions again tonight, and there weren’t even a lot of those left. The poor children. I had hoped to return from the market with a fresh supply of flour and lard and perhaps even some meat.

I hung my cloak from its peg on the wall, putting as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could manage.

“And because you’ve beensopatient, after you’ve cleaned your plates, I’ll give you each a small piece of the Jol cake.”

There wasn’t much left of the sugary treat. I’d been parceling it out in tiny bits since this year’s celebration, trying to make the rare indulgence last as long as possible.

The girls cheered as if I’d told them I’d brought home fresh plum puddings, and the ache inside sharpened, piercing my heavy heart.

I’d have loved to be able to buy the girls a hundred cakes and puddings and lovely, warm clothes and all the books they could read. They deserved it.

Life truly wasn’t fair. The well-fed Fae lord I’d met today had offered me a feast as if it was no big deal, a daily occurrence in his life. It probably was.

Meanwhile, these innocent children were reed thin. I worried their growth might even be permanently stunted if I didn’t do something to improve their situation soon.

“I’m sorry to have been gone so long,” I said to my father as I crossed the room to kiss him on the head. “How was your day? Were the girls good for you?”

“They certainly were,” he said. “Since you weren’t here to read them stories, I regaled them with tales of the Great Rebellion.”

“Yes, Papa told us how he slew the wicked Elves and even fought a Satyr,” Tindra exclaimed with glee. “Papa’s stories have much more blood than yours do.”

“Blood,” Turi repeated.

“Well I have some stories for you,” I announced. “Come help me prepare dinner, and I will tell you what I saw today at the Rough Market.”

They followed me to the stove and hovered around my skirts as I cooked, chattering excitedly and asking me questions. Encouraged by their excitement, I told them everything I could remember.

Well, not everything. Naturally, I leftoutthe bloody parts.

They were too little to understand, and I didn’t want to frighten them. I’d have to tell my father eventually, but I wasn’t sorry to delay it a bit. I was sure he already suspected something since I’d come home empty-handed.

When supper was finished and I’d given the girls their treat along with instructions to read quietly, I went to sit with him in front of the fire.

I’d barely landed on my stool when he asked, “What happened, lass?”

My chest seized with a knot of panic–and regret.

“I lost the locket,” I confessed in a whisper. “Either that or it was stolen. There was a gang of thieves roaming the market. I’m afraid they might have taken it.”

He nodded, saying nothing, but the grooves in his face seemed to deepen, and his body sagged, making him look even older and more tired than usual.

It was worse than a scolding or the loudest tirade. I was consumed with guilt, and I could tell he felt the same fear I did—that my mistake had been a deadly one.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know you advised me not to go to the Rough Market, and I did it anyway because everyone said that’s where I’d get the highest price, and I just wanted the money to last us as long as possible. Now there is none at all, and it’s my fault.”

He reached out, searching for my head.

Finding it, he patted gently. “Did you lose it on purpose?”

“No, but—”

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