Page 33 of A Court Bright and Broken

Sorcha’s tone was weary. “I don'tgiveloans. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Yes, they do—I mean, I do—but I was hoping just this once you’d make an… exception.”

My words trailed off under her withering glare.

“I don’t make exceptions either,” she said. “But Iwillmake you a trade.”

“A trade?”

My heart was thundering so hard in my ears I barely heard the words coming out of my own mouth.

“But… I have nothing to offer,” I said. “You know I lost the locket. It was the last thing we had of value.”

She lifted a thin eyebrow. “Are you quite certain it’s the only thing?”

Then she closed her eyes and began humming. I wasn't sure what she was doing or what to do with myself while she did it. I'd never taken part in aconversationquite like this one.

With her eyes still closed, Sorcha said in a low, eerie voice, “I see… gold.”

Gold?

“I have no gold, I assure you. Perhaps you're thinking of the locket?” I suggested. “But it wasn't made of gold. It was silver. And now it's gone, either stolen or trampled under mud and straw at the Rough Market. Wait—do youknowwhere it is? Can you see it?”

Maybe the whole eyes-closed-creepy-humming thing was a location spell. The Earthwife still hadn't opened her eyes, and the odd humming resumed, growing louder and louder.

After another few moments, she spoke again. “Golden… writing. In a flourished script, wrought by an educated, practiced hand.”

My mind flew back to the scene outside the castle gates, watching in bafflement as Sam dipped a quill into the pot of golden ink and wrote out the words on the parchment.

Could she be referring to his invitation?

Sorcha’s eyelids were fluttering now as she seemed to be waking from sleep.

“Have you seen anything that fits this description?” she asked me.

I nodded. “Yes, I think so. When I was in the marketplace yesterday, I met a man. He was attacked by thieves, and I helped him get home. As it turned out, he was High Fae. He gave me an invitation written in golden ink as a thank you.”

Now the Earthwife’s eyes popped open wide. She looked like she’d never been more awake in her life.

She leaned forward across the table. “An invitation to what?”

Her tone was taut with anticipation. Her eyes seemed to glow as she waited for my answer.

“The writing says it's an invitation to a royal ball. At Seaspire,” I said haltingly, trying to process her bizarre reaction.

Wasthissomething I could trade for the medicine and food we needed?

It seemed to me like nothing more than ink on paper, worthless. But the village mother seemed inordinately excited about it.

Seeming to gather herself, she took a breath, and her usual calm demeanor and mellow tone returned.

“As you know, I don't hand out my cures—or any other help—for free. A woman has to make a living, and times are hard.”

My heart sank. I had thought the tide was turning in my favor. It soared just as quickly though when she continued.

“But… you are clearly in desperate need, and I want to help.”

“Oh thank you. Thank you so much. I promise I will repay—”

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