Page 22 of The Immortal's Trick
My family will survive this.
Wewill.
Even if I have to work day and night and sacrifice the dreams I barely allowed myself to entertain, I will protect this family. I will not let us break.
Not now.
Notever.
9
It takes lessthan a sun cycle for my resolve to be thwarted in the worst way possible.
Nebet taps tentatively against the scarred wood outside our bedroom. The sound barely reaches me through the fog of my fury and grief.
“Eshe?” she calls gently. “Please talk to me. You’ve been in there all day.”
I don’t answer. I sit rigidly on the edge of our shared straw mattress, arms wrapped tight around my knees, forehead pressed to the cool wall beside the window. Outside, the cicadas hum and the late sun paints streaks of pink and red across the sky. It’s too beautiful a sight for the darkness blanketing my soul.
After a pause, the door creaks open.
Nebet steps in, her movements cautious, as though she fears I might shatter if startled. She crosses the small room with slow steps, her feet whispering against the rush mat. The bed dips slightly as she sits beside me.
“Dinner is ready,” she says after a moment. “Will you come eat with us?”
“No.”
“Please? For me?”
“I cannot look at him.”
Nebet exhales. The quiet weight of it carries more than disappointment—it carries surrender. “Father is doing what he thinks is best. He’s trying to protect us.”
My head whips around. “He’s offering you up like a lamb to slaughter,” I hiss. “The only person he cares to protect is himself.”
She flinches but doesn’t waver. “He has no other choice.”
“Of course he does!” My hands tremble violently in my lap. “He could sell a plot of our land. He could helpusfind employment. He should do anything he can to keep you from that…pig!”
The silence that follows is deafening.
After Ani told us the truth about the missing crops, I waited for my father to show horror. Regret. Shame.
But Theshan only sighed and nodded, as if confirming a bet he’d expected to lose. It turns out, he already decided his next course of action.
His words from breakfast still ring in my ears, dry and unfeeling: “It is done. Nebet will be Benipe’s wife.”
I had no chance of protecting my family myself.
I failed.
“There is no guarantee any of those things would save us from destitution,” Nebet says at last, her voice eerily calm. “Father is doing what he believes will guarantee we keep the farm. That Ruia has an inheritance.”
My throat burns. “He’s trading you for coin. Like cattle.”
Not only did Benipe offer to ‘take Nebet off her father’s hands,’ but he also offered monetary compensation for ‘taking away his primary caretaker.’
The word choice still churns my stomach. That wasn’t a marriage proposal. It was a purchase.
