2. Leah #3
I’m not going to let them take Evie’s future from her, not after they took so much from me. I’m going to get us out of this cursed house. With a guild license—even a fake one—we could start a new life together, safe from my father’s indifference and Ada’s cruelty.
“You don’t have to do exactly what I did,” I say, setting down the celery I’m chopping and forcing Evie to meet my eye.
“And she’ll tolerate a lot more from you than she would me, so just find some excuse—anything—to stall for time.
I can get us out of here, Evie, I promise. You just have to trust me.”
Evie chews her lip and drops her gaze, returning to the carrots.
Something is going on with her, I can tell.
Is she really so worried Ada will force her into a match before I’ve saved enough?
Or is there something else bothering her?
I don’t have time to ask, because just then we hear Ada calling Evie from the stairs.
My sister has to rush off before my stepmother realizes she was committing the ultimate crime of helping me with chores.
I spend the next few days tackling the spring clean and avoiding Ada in case she asks why I haven’t gone back to the seamstress’s yet. Scavenging is always unpredictable, but my hope is the last battle kicked off what will be another wave of skirmishes.
I don’t lie to myself—scavenging isn’t just a means to an end for me.
It has become something of an escape in itself.
It might be frightening and dangerous—and I still wake up from nightmares about some of the things I’ve seen and done on the plains—but I also get to be me.
Even if I don’t get to use my real name.
And that’s such a blessed relief that sometimes I find myself lingering in the market or with Hodges’s family at his house rather than coming back here.
But I also pray for another battle because I’m increasingly sure there’s something wrong with Evie.
Ada keeps dropping loaded hints about eligible bachelors and instead of sticking to our plan—finding excuses to delay the husband hunting—Evie seems to have gotten worse at pushing back.
She just turns red and stutters some nothing answer.
I love her, but if she keeps doing such a shitty job of deterring Ada, I’m going to need to scavenge a whole battalion of ephilium armor to get a counterfeit license before my stepmother has her walking down the aisle.
Then it hits me.
“I know why you’ve been so off this last week,” I say one afternoon when she comes into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
Her hand slips, and she nearly drops the glass. It’s only my quick reflexes that steady it in her grasp before it crashes to the floor.
“You do?” she asks, her face draining of color.
“It’s that butcher’s apprentice, isn’t it?” I say. “What’s his name…John?”
“Jeremy,” she replies too fast, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“I knew it!” I crow, picturing the broad-shouldered, dark-eyed man in question.
“It was so obvious he had a crush on you that time when you sprained your ankle.” Evie had been coming back from dance class when she realized she’d hurt herself and needed help getting home.
It’s just a short walk really, but the butcher’s apprentice was passing and had been all too happy to lend a hand.
“He was so flustered when you thanked him. I wasn’t sure if you were just being nice.
But you’ve been seeing more of him, haven’t you?
Is that why you’ve been having extra lessons, so you can keep running into each other on your way home? ”
Her expression is so distraught I immediately drop the teasing tone.
“Shit, Eves, you really like him, don’t you? That’s why Ada’s marriage talk has been terrifying you, because you want to be with him, right?” She and I both know Ada would rather cut off her own arm—strike that, cut off Evie’s arm—than let her daughter marry a butcher.
“I love him, Leah,” Evie whispers, her eyes shining with tears.
“Oh sweetie,” I rub her arms, my heart cracking at seeing her so upset.
“It’s okay. Once we have a license, we’ll get out of here, and it won’t matter anymore what your mother thinks.
You’ll be able to see whoever you want. You won’t need her or father’s permission to marry anymore.
” I tilt my head to one side, offering a wry smile.
“Although you are still pretty young; I’d maybe wait a bit before you make any quick decisions.
You’ll have all the time in the world to get to know him then. ”
But Evie looks far from reassured. In fact, she’s chewing her lip to a pulp and refusing to meet my gaze. My gut twists in agitation.
“Is there something else?” I ask.
“What if I didn’t have a lot of time?” she says quietly, her fingers smoothing down the front of her skirts.
“Eves, what do you mean?” I ask. My voice comes out harsh, strained by the fear coiling inside me. When she doesn’t answer, I smooth back her hair from her face. “Talk to me.”
She lifts her eyes at last, and I see the tears have started to fall. Her words come out in a whisper.
“I’m pregnant, Leah.”