Page 5 of The Immortal's Trick
It’s a low blow, but I’ve had enough of the teasing—especially from my father—when it comes to Ani.
Father’s smile fades. “Surely Mr. Nsar would not deny his son happiness.”
“Ani and I have no understanding,” I point out, finally meeting his gaze. If he’s relying on Ani’s family to rescue us from this financial mess, he’s sorely mistaken.
“That is only a matter of time,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek. He's not listening. He never listens.
“I don’t want Eshe to marry Ani,” Sab says softly, surprising the table. All eyes turned to him.
“What was that, son?” Father’s voice sharpens.
Sab doesn’t notice. He stirs his lentils around his bowl and shrugs. “I don’t want Eshe to leave. We need her here. I’d miss her.”
My heart twists. I reach for him, but Father speaks first.
“What we need,” he says, more steel than breath, “is to survive.”
The room falls silent. Nebet and my brothers shift, uncomfortable. I stay perfectly still and meet Father’s sickly but determined gaze.
“We will sell our crops and be fine,” I say.
He leans back, eyes dull but mouth firm. “What we need is certainty. You think our crops will carry us through if we have another bad season? You think my body will magically start working again?”
I don’t flinch. “So you’ll try to sell off your daughters instead?”
“I expect my daughters to make advantageous marriages.”
A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “With what dowry? What wedding gifts? Do we even have enough wine left for guests to toast with?”
His face does not change. “Benipe stopped by while you two were gone.”
The name slams into my chest.
“He inquired after Nebet.”
“No,” I say immediately, jerking my head to the side so hard my long black braid swats the side of my face. “Absolutely not.”
“I gave no assurances,” Father replies, too calm.
“He’s twice her age,” I snap. “He’s disgusting.”
“He’s wealthy,” Father counters.
Nebet has gone still beside me. Her hands are folded in her lap, clenched too tightly.
“Isn’t Benipe the fat man? The one who sells furniture from foreign lands?” Ruia blurts, shameless as ever. For once, it makes me smirk.
“He is the wealthiest man among our class,” Father hisses. “And he should be respected.”
I stare at a knot in the wood under my hands, but the image of that bloated old man trying to touch my sister burns into my thoughts.
Benipe might be rich, but I’d rather lose a limb than let him put a hand on Nebet. She deserves better.
Father thinks he’s doing the right thing. Maybe he’s too sick to see another way. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore.
But I do.
