Chapter 13
“You stink worse than usual.”
My brother looked up from where he had been busy shoveling manure in the dusky horse pen. His face was tired, but his eyes shone when he saw me.
“Careful now, sister. If you keep talking so sweet, I’ll have to come give you a big hug and ruin those fancy clothes of yours.” He grinned, eyeing me with a low, sarcastic whistle. “Castor sure keeps you well, doesn’t he?”
“Castor has new toys to play with now,” I muttered.
“You even sound fancier,” Melanthius said as he set his shovel aside.
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s good to see you, Mel. It’s been too long.”
I pretended not to hear the dip of emotion in his voice, moving to lean against the wall of the pen. Watery gray light filtered in behind me, illuminating the muck-stained floor. I did not know how my brother endured the stench day after day.
“I got your message,” I said. “What’s so urgent?”
“How’d you get away from the palace?”
“I volunteered to bring some leftover vegetables for the horses.”
“You’re back on kitchen duty?”
I smiled tightly. “Like I said, Castor has new playthings. And the kitchens needed extra help with all the suitors.”
“So nobody was suspicious?”
“No.” I waved a hand. “Everyone’s too preoccupied with news of Helen’s betrothal anyway. She made her decision this morning.”
“Did you tell anyone we were meeting?”
I shook my head. “What’s up with you?”
Melanthius opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes caught on my bandaged hand. His gaze then traveled down to my legs and the fresh scabs crisscrossing over my knees.
“What’s that?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, pushing off the wall. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He stared at me for a long moment. I knew he was debating whether to press me on my injuries, but neither of us had ever been very good at talking about our wounds. Thankfully, he relented and grabbed my arm, pulling me farther into the stables.
When he spoke again, his voice was a sharp, urgent whisper. “What if I told you we could leave?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re planning an escape. On the day of the joint wedding, when everyone will be too drunk and distracted to know what’s what. We’ll get outta here, Mel. We’ll finally be free.”
Reckless hope flared in his eyes, so bright I found myself instinctively recoiling.
“How would we ever manage that?”
“We’ve got it all sorted. Don’t you worry. There’s six of us total. Three of the stable lads, me, you, and…Melitta.”
“Melitta?”
“She works in the kitchens.”
I vaguely knew the girl—small and pretty, with round, freckled cheeks.
“Let me guess.” I sighed. “You’re in love with her?”
“I am, Mel. I really am.”
“You said that about the last one,” I pointed out. “And the one before that.”
“Melitta is different.” A giddy smile spread across Melanthius’s face. “She’s the one. I know she is.”
For some reason, his happiness only made the dread curdle thicker in my gut.
“Trying to run away is madness. You could die. Or worse.”
“It’s worth the risk,” he insisted. “Melitta is worth the risk.”
I rolled my eyes again. “You’ll change your mind about her. You always do.”
“No, I won’t, Mel. Not this time.”
There was something in Melanthius’s expression then, a wisp of fearful hope pressing between his eyes, tightening around his mouth.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
He bit down on his lip. I could not tell if he was fighting another smile or a grimace. “Melitta is…well…she’s pregnant.”
I stared at him for a moment, stunned.
“It’s yours?”
“Course it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The thought of Melanthius as a father filled me with a rush of fierce joy, but the consequences that came with this news overshadowed the vision.
He and Melitta did not have permission to have children—that much was clear.
If our masters found out, they could be sold or worse.
And Melanthius was only fifteen. I knew women were expected to carry babes at this age, yet it seemed so young to me.
When I looked at my brother, I still saw the little boy who had tugged at my curls and tried to eat dirt just to make me laugh.
“Congratulations,” I finally managed, reaching for him.
He cocooned my hands in his warm, rough palms.
“I want our child to be born free, Mel. I want to give them a better life than we ever had. I want Melitta to have a better life.” Purpose burned in his voice. “She deserves it. So does our baby.”
“So do you,” I whispered.
“And you.” He squeezed my hands. “You’ll be an aunt.”
“An aunt,” I echoed. It frightened me how much I liked the sound of it.
Melanthius hesitated, glancing at the shadows. “Do you…think I should tell Dolios?”
“Why bother?”
“I just think he should know.” Melanthius’s lips twisted slightly. “He’ll be the baby’s grandfather after all.”
“Dolios is no relative of ours,” I hissed. “He’s just a man who was once allowed to bed another slave because of good behavior. That’s all.”
“Mel…”
“What?”
Melanthius’s gaze filled with a sickening swirl of love and pity. “What happened to Mama…it weren’t his fault. You know that.”
“We’re not having this conversation. Not again.” I tugged my hands free from his suffocating grasp. “Don’t tell Dolios anything. He’ll only alert our masters.”
Melanthius winced, then sighed. “Fine.”
I stared into the shadows, letting the reality of Melanthius’s news settle and take root.
An aunt.
“I hope you know I’m going to spoil your kid rotten,” I murmured.
My brother grinned at that. “I guessed as much.”
“I’ll keep them up far too late telling them stories and feeding them treats.”
“Oh gods, you’re gonna make them a nightmare. Just like you were.”
We laughed, allowing ourselves to indulge in this vision of the future, however distant and unreachable it felt.
“So will you?” Melanthius whispered, words prickling with an excitement I could not fully give myself over to. “Come with us?”
I hesitated, my focus caught by the clopping of hooves outside and a distant shout from another stable boy.
“Think it over,” Melanthius insisted, placing a hand on my shoulder. “There’s still three days till the wedding. So just…take your time. All right?”
I shook my head, fear and adrenaline bubbling up into a quivering smile.
“I don’t need to. I know what I want.”