Page 4 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“So I’m no better than a cow, to be traded and bartered?”
“It’s a good deal, Alice,” says Pap sharply. “The debt forgiven, free drinks, and all your tips going to help the family until next harvest.”
“You sure he’s not planning to whore me out?”
Mam steps forward and slaps me across the mouth. “Watch your tongue.”
A few months ago I might have submitted to this. But since I went to Faerie I’ve gained confidence, knowledge, and a staunch belief in myself. Dying for an entire kingdom will do that to a person.
“No,” I say firmly, quietly. “No, I will not marry this man. I will not settle your drinking debt, Father, or enable your future indulgence. Good afternoon.”
With my head held high, I walk out of the room and head for the kitchen.
But Mam follows me into the hallway and grabs my wrist. In the slanted light leaking from the kitchen, her face looks more gaunt than ever. “What do you think you’re doing, you ungrateful wretch? Do you want to be a burden to us forever? Saddle us with the cost of clothing you and filling your belly?”
“No, but—”
“You must marry, and he’s the only one who will take you, now that you’ve been soiled. You have no choice. Who else do you expect to marry? What do you expect to do with your life—work for His Lordship until your looks fade?”
I stare at her, immobilized by the question.
What do you expect to do with your life?
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Then wantthis,” she says. “Want this for us, for your family. The crops are rotting. What Drosselmeyer is paying you won’t cover your father’s debt, and this bargain gets us out of it right now, free and clear.” The chatter of voices and the thumping of childish feet come from the kitchen, and Mam tightens her grip on my wrist. “Do it forthem. If you don’t, we’ll have to send the three oldest out to work. No more schoolin’. Is that what you want?”
Anger churns in my heart. She knows how much I crave an education, how much I want it for my siblings. She’s using that desire against me.
And what right do I have to refuse? What great plans do I have for my life in this dreary place? I had some vague idea of saving up money to move away, but I’ve been fooling myself—with the ever-growing needs of my family, that was never going to happen.
Tears slip from my eyes. I have as much hope of holding them back as our battered roof does of keeping out the rain.
A figure appears in the kitchen doorway, blocking some of the light. It’s Dorothy, the girl from the neighboring farm. “I’m heading home in a moment. The baby’s been fed and changed, and dinner’s warm on the stove.”
A small black dog rushes past her feet, coming to sniff eagerly at mine.
“Hello, Fiero.” I stoop to pet him, and take the opportunity to furtively wipe a few tears.
“Keep that thing in the kitchen, Dorothy,” snaps my mother.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dorothy crouches to collect the dog, and as she does, she looks into my eyes. Hers are different colors—one rich brown, one vivid blue. The brown hue of her skin and the deeper brown of her hair remind me painfully of Riordan’s coloring.
She surveys me carefully, as if interpreting my mood. “I’ll stay a few minutes longer, until you’re ready.” Scooping up Fiero, she returns to the kitchen.
“This marriage is happening,” Mam says. “It must.”
She turns and heads back into the sitting room. I don’t wait to hear what she’ll say to the men, so I turn and run up the stairs to the garret where I sleep. In the past, one or more children would crawl into bed with me and sleep tucked against me as if I were a warden against bad dreams. But since my return from Faerie, I can’t ward off my own nightmares, which are so frequent and loud that my little siblings have decided in favor of staying in their own beds at night. Which suits me fine, because it gives me the privacy to touch myself sometimes, if I want a bit of comfort and pleasure.
Hunching under the rafters, I thread my way between the drips and the buckets to my bed. I plunge my hand under the pillow and draw out the Tama Olc, the ancient Unseelie spellbook I stole from Drosselmeyer. I gave it to Riordan, and he returned it to me just before he sent me home.
Fuck him for sending me away.
It’s not as if I haven’t thought of going back. Last month I tentatively approached Lord Drosselmeyer about it—just a nudge— “What if someone wanted to visit Faerie?” and he informed me that he was banned from Faerie, and that he has destroyed all the items he possessed that could have enabled travel between realms.
That door is closed to me. I doubt he’d help me go back, even if I begged him. Which is what I feel like doing right now—begging and pleading on my knees, in tears.
If he won’t help me, maybe I can help myself.
