7. I Would Do Anything
Chapter 7
I Would Do Anything
R aewyn
My heart grew heavier with each step I took toward home.
It wasn’t that I resented my responsibilities there—my step-sisters were a joy to me, and my father had earned my loyalty and care.
It was just that I dreaded telling Papa about the lost locket. He would know as well as I did what it meant. Hunger for us all and more pain for him.
The medicine provided to him by the village mother had run out.
Now I couldn’t buy more.
Our village mother, Sorcha, was an Earthwife. She was wise, possessing powers beyond the understanding of the rest of us, and her tinctures and potions had done wonders for just about everyone I knew, including Papa.
But she did not give something for nothing. None of the Earthwives did.
Most people I knew viewed them as a necessary evil. Their wards were our only protection against our Fae overlords, keeping them from invading our villages whenever they pleased.
But they were also crafty, and those who made deals with them seemed often to find themselves living in regret.
I glanced at Sorcha’s cottage as I walked past, feeling a shiver go down my spine and wondering if I might be able to persuade her just this once to provide Papa’s essential treatment on a loan until I could figure out how to come up with payment.
Maybe I could do some work around her home or in her gardens? I planned to visit her in the morning and ask.
Arriving at the rough wooden door to our own tiny home, I took a deep breath, pasted on a smile for the sake of Tindra and Turi, then turned the knob and entered.
The girls looked up from their game of sticks and stones on the dirt floor and leapt to their feet, rushing me in a flurry of curls and giggles.
“You’re finally home,” Tindra cried. “Did you bring us something?”
“Something?” Turi echoed. She adored her older sister and tried to emulate her in all ways.
As I hugged them, I felt their ribs and the bony knobs of their backbones. Was it possible they were even thinner than they’d been when I’d left this morning?
An ache that had nothing to do with my own empty stomach filled me.
“I’m afraid not,” I answered honestly, “But I’ll put supper on right away. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
It would be beans with watercress and wild onions again tonight, and there weren’t even a lot of those left. The poor children. I had hoped to return from the market with a fresh supply of flour and lard and perhaps even some meat.
I hung my cloak from its peg on the wall, putting as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could manage.
“And because you’ve been so patient, after you’ve cleaned your plates, I’ll give you each a small piece of the Jol cake.”
There wasn’t much left of the sugary treat. I’d been parceling it out in tiny bits since this year’s celebration, trying to make the rare indulgence last as long as possible.
The girls cheered as if I’d told them I’d brought home fresh plum puddings, and the ache inside sharpened, piercing my heavy heart.
I’d have loved to be able to buy the girls a hundred cakes and puddings and lovely, warm clothes and all the books they could read. They deserved it.
Life truly wasn’t fair. The well-fed Fae lord I’d met today had offered me a feast as if it was no big deal, a daily occurrence in his life. It probably was.
Meanwhile, these innocent children were reed thin. I worried their growth might even be permanently stunted if I didn’t do something to improve their situation soon.
“I’m sorry to have been gone so long,” I said to my father as I crossed the room to kiss him on the head. “How was your day? Were the girls good for you?”
“They certainly were,” he said. “Since you weren’t here to read them stories, I regaled them with tales of the Great Rebellion.”
“Yes, Papa told us how he slew the wicked Elves and even fought a Satyr,” Tindra exclaimed with glee. “Papa’s stories have much more blood than yours do.”
“Blood,” Turi repeated.
“Well I have some stories for you,” I announced. “Come help me prepare dinner, and I will tell you what I saw today at the Rough Market.”
They followed me to the stove and hovered around my skirts as I cooked, chattering excitedly and asking me questions. Encouraged by their excitement, I told them everything I could remember.
Well, not everything. Naturally, I left out the bloody parts.
They were too little to understand, and I didn’t want to frighten them. I’d have to tell my father eventually, but I wasn’t sorry to delay it a bit. I was sure he already suspected something since I’d come home empty-handed.
When supper was finished and I’d given the girls their treat along with instructions to read quietly, I went to sit with him in front of the fire.
I’d barely landed on my stool when he asked, “What happened, lass?”
My chest seized with a knot of panic–and regret.
“I lost the locket,” I confessed in a whisper. “Either that or it was stolen. There was a gang of thieves roaming the market. I’m afraid they might have taken it.”
He nodded, saying nothing, but the grooves in his face seemed to deepen, and his body sagged, making him look even older and more tired than usual.
It was worse than a scolding or the loudest tirade. I was consumed with guilt, and I could tell he felt the same fear I did—that my mistake had been a deadly one.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know you advised me not to go to the Rough Market, and I did it anyway because everyone said that’s where I’d get the highest price, and I just wanted the money to last us as long as possible. Now there is none at all, and it’s my fault.”
He reached out, searching for my head.
Finding it, he patted gently. “Did you lose it on purpose?”
“No, but—”
He interrupted. “Then there’s nothing to apologize for.”
I leaned against him, accepting his consoling squeeze. Behind me, I heard Tindra gasp.
“What is this, Raewyn?”
“What is what?” I turned to see her holding a creased piece of parchment.
It took me a moment to recognize it. The invitation Sam had given me.
Getting to my feet, I crossed the floor to where the girls stood staring wide-eyed at the flowing handwriting on the page.
How did it get here? I’d handed it back to Sam before taking my leave of him and the Elven soldiers.
Then I looked at the cloak hanging right beside me, its hood suspended from the wooden peg. When I’d hung up the garment, the folded paper must have fallen to the floor without my noticing.
“He must have stashed it in my hood when I turned away.”
I didn’t realize I’d said the words aloud until both Tindra and my father asked, “He who?” at the same time.
Turi sounded like a little owl, echoing them. “Who? Who?”
Now I’d done it.
Just as I’d left the thieves out of the story I’d told the girls earlier this evening, I’d also avoided mentioning the High Fae man I’d met.
I hadn’t told Papa about him either. It had just seemed… simpler that way.
Now I’d either have to tell my family about meeting him and worry my father needlessly—or lie to them, which I never did.
Papa sat up straighter in his chair, worry etched across his face.
“Did you go to the market to rendezvous with a man today, Raewyn?”
“A man? No. Of course not,” I assured him. “You know why I went.”
Taking the paper from Tindra, I refolded it. “It’s nothing important. Just something someone handed me in the market.”
To be precise, Sam hadn’t given it to me in the marketplace but just outside the gates of Seaspire Castle. But he had given it to me because of meeting me in the market. A lie but a small one.
“What it says?” Turi asked.
“Um…” Time for a slightly bigger lie. “It’s only a flier the button maker was handing out to attract business to his stall.”
Tindra’s face screwed up in obvious confusion.
“But it has the words, ‘invited’ on there and ‘royal ball,’” she said. “And the name of a castle. And it’s written in shiny gold ink.”
Wonderful. Exposed by an eight-year-old.
I was a little surprised. Tindra read print well, but I would not have thought she’d be able to decipher Sam’s ornate handwriting with all its flourishes. And despite the fact it was indeed scribed in gold ink.
“Which castle?” Papa said, leaning forward. “Seaspire?”
“Yes,” Tindra exclaimed. “That was it.”
Though he couldn’t see, he turned to me, and his blind gaze seemed to burn right through me.
“Raewyn?”
I let out a long breath. The whole story was about to come spilling out of me. The truth this time.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” I told him. “I met a man in the marketplace today. A Fae man.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I elaborated. “A High Fae man. I didn’t realize he was even Fae until almost the end of our walk.”
Papa’s forehead wrinkled further. “You left the market with him and went for a walk?”
“Not exactly. I mean, yes, I did walk with him, but it wasn’t what you’re thinking. He had helped me earlier,” I explained. “The band of thieves I mentioned were following me, and he intervened and tried to prevent them from robbing me.”
The girls were paying rapt attention as I continued.
“Later they attacked him, and I felt so sorry for him. I believe they would have killed him if I hadn’t done something. So I stopped the attack, and then I helped him home because he couldn’t walk on his own.”
“You’re a hero, Raewyn,” Tindra exclaimed.
“He must not have had healing glamour,” Papa said. “Go on. You helped him home…”
“Yes. I still believed he was human—just a very tall one—until we passed all the human villages and were nearly to the gates of the royal city. I couldn’t leave him, Papa. He was so badly hurt, and he’d been kind to me.”
“And he was very handsome…” my father supplied.
“No. Not really,” I protested. “Well, not so handsome. He was quite poorly dressed, and after he was beaten by the gang, he was all dirty and foul smelling.”
“And when did this dirty, foul-smelling High Fae invite you to a royal ball?” Papa asked.
“He wasn’t interested in me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said. “He was simply grateful for my assistance. I think he saw the invitation as some kind of reward. He asked me to come inside the gates for something to eat, but I told him no. Then he gave me the invitation—as a token of gratitude.”
Papa didn’t look entirely convinced.
“And did you give this grateful High Fae man—who disguised his appearance to go to the Rough Market for some reason—your name? And tell him where we live?”
My tone was indignant. “Of course not.”
“He knows nothing about me. Except my first name,” I admitted. “I did give him that. But I did not tell him our family name or where we live.”
Papa’s expression and posture relaxed a bit.
“When are you going to the ball?” Turi asked eagerly, bouncing on her little toes.
“I’m not,” I said. “What would I do there? I don’t know any of the Elven dances, and I couldn’t eat or drink anything. Their food and drink are enchanted and will put humans under their power.”
“That is false information,” my father said. “Their food is just food. Their wine is just wine.”
“But the stories…”
“All rumors, and you know what rumors usually amount to. That’s why your mother and I taught you not to gossip–and not to believe it when someone else does,” he said.
“But… how can you be so sure… about the enchantment I mean?”
“Your father wasn’t always a cripple in a chair in front of the hearth,” Papa said. “I’ve had some adventures—and known some Fae in my time.”
“I know. They’re the ones who took your sight and left you in constant suffering,” I said bitterly.
“That’s true. And I hurt some of them in return. War is an ugly thing with no real winners. I don’t blame their soldiers for doing their duty, just as I did mine.”
“We have peace now, and that is a good thing.”
He rubbed his stiff knees and shifted in his chair. “Not all the Fae are bad. But I don’t want you going to the ball.”
Tindra and Turi both let out disappointed moans, and I was surprised to note a slight sense of deflation in myself, in spite of the fact I’d had no intention of attending.
“I wasn’t planning to,” I told him honestly.
“I bet it would be lovely there,” Tindra said in a wistful tone. “And Raewyn works so hard taking care of us. She deserves to have a lovely time.”
Reaching over, I stroked her hair fondly.
“No doubt it would be lovely,” Father acknowledged. “The Fae are good at creating beauty. And temptation. And as I said, not all of them are bad—but they’re not all good either, and with those beautiful facades of theirs, it can be hard to tell the difference. Sometimes treachery lurks beneath the most appealing surface.”
“Well the one I met was definitely not beautiful—or appealing,” I said.
Clearly unconvinced, Tindra turned to me with stars in her eyes. “What was he like? Please tell us.”
“Tell us,” Turi pleaded.
My step-sisters had never met a Fae person and probably never would. I understood the fascination. Some of the stories we’d read together made them seem magical and even rather alluring in spite of their ferocity and heartlessness.
I described Sam’s slovenly appearance in great detail, even exaggerating a bit to make the girls laugh.
When I began to describe his smell after he’d rolled in the muck and dried in the midday sun, their giggles were like a collection of tiny bells ringing.
Then Tindra’s smile dropped, and her lips pulled into a pout.
“I wish you could go to the ball. It would be so exciting to hear about all the pretty gowns and the inside of a castle. I bet the walls are made of gold. And if you went, you could bring us some sweets. I bet they’ll have lots of sweets there.”
“Sweets!” Turi shouted.
“Perhaps they will,” I said, caressing each of them on the top of the head. “But I will not be going. As Papa said, it’s far too dangerous to consort with the Fae. Besides, I have too much to do around here to go galavanting off to a royal ball. And you two have a lot to do tomorrow. We’re going foraging for nuts and mushrooms, and it will be a long walk. So off to bed with you both. I’ll be up to say your prayers with you in a few minutes.”
The girls scampered off and climbed the ladder to the loft above where the three of us slept. I could hear their whispers and the sound of little feet on the boards overhead.
When the noise stopped, I stood, preparing to go up and tuck them in then go to bed myself.
“Raewyn?”
My father’s soft voice stopped me. “Yes?”
“I know your life here isn’t easy. You took on far too heavy a burden far too young. I’m sure a golden invitation to a ball in a castle is very tempting.”
Before he could go on, I spoke up. “It’s not. I’m not tempted in the least.”
Apparently, once I’d gotten started on the lies, it was becoming a habit. But I didn’t want him to feel bad. Our circumstances weren’t his fault.
“And you and Tindra and Turi are not a burden,” I said. “You’re my family. I would do anything for the three of you.”
His brows lowered, and his mouth drew into a tight line.
“That’s what worries me.”