Page 31 of A Court Bright and Broken

These stories and more like them were why I’d avoided asking for Sorcha’s help in the past. The coincidences were all a bit too… coincidental.

“But you’re right,” I said to Katricia. “I may have to beg her mercy.”

The consequences of asking for Sorcha’s help couldn’t be any worse than becoming Dardick’s wife, right?

Chapter 9

There is a Price

Raewyn

The Earthwife opened her door before I had a chance to knock on it.

“I happened to be looking out my window and saw you coming down the lane,” she explained without me even asking.

“How are you on this fine day, Raewyn?”

“Very well,” I lied out of politeness. “How are you?”

“Verywell indeed.”

Sorcha appeared as she always did, pink-cheeked, her silvery blonde hair piled atop her head in a tidy bun, her sharp green eyes flicking over me, taking in every detail. Today, as every day, she wore a long red dress with a silver chain wrapped around her waist. I had no idea how old she was, as she’d looked the same to me my whole life—middle-aged at least.

She stepped back and invited me into her cottage, which was warm and pleasantly cluttered and smelled strongly of herbs and mutton stew. My stomach growled loudly.

After feeling the girls’ bones last night through their clothing, I’d opted not to eat supper myself and to give them my portion of beans. They’d been so excited to hear my stories, they hadn’tnoticed theoversight, and of course Father hadn’t seen the skipped meal.

“Missed breakfast, did you?” Sorcha asked in a knowing tone. Clearly she’d heard the rumble.

“Yes, I… wanted to get an early start. No chance to eat first.”

Holding up a finger, she said, “Just a moment.”

Sorcha crossed the room to the bubbling pot on the stovetop, which was large and full to the brim. Its contents would feed my family for a month, if there were any way to keep it fresh for that long.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, looking around. “Are you expecting company?”

“Company? No.” She shook her head and smiled. “I just have a large appetite.”

She took a bowl from the narrow shelf over the stove and ladled a generous helping of stew into it.

“I was just about to sit down and eat. Would you care for some?”

My gaze followed the bowl longingly as she carried it from stove to table. The alluring scent was even stronger now.

Sorcha went back and took down another bowl, holding it at the ready over the pot.

“As you can see, there’s plenty. And I hate to eat alone,” she said.

My reluctance to accept charity stood no chance against my hunger, which was ravenous now. I was salivating so profusely it was almost hard to form the words.

“Yes, thank you. I believe I will have some.”

Sorcha’s smile widened. “Good. You’re looking a little peaked. Skipping meals isn’t healthy for young women.”

With a glance up at me, she added, “Even worse for little girls.”

Guilt punctured my heart, competing with hunger for the dominant sensation ravaging my body. Hunger prevailed.

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