Chapter 6 #2
“I’m so sorry about Lily. You were a good friend to her. But Bly . . . the beatings, the men, the way no one protects you there—it’s not a place for you. It’s not safe.” Meeka whispered. “You shouldn’t have to endure this. You need to leave that place once and for all.”
I sipped my tea, the steam doing little to ease the tension in my shoulders. “Soon. I still need more money.”
“But what if we found you a new job somewhere else? You could sew for people?”
I leaned sideways, letting my head settle on Meeka’s shoulder. “That never got my mother very far.”
She sighed softly. “Let me help you.”
“You already do.”
Dawn began creeping its way across the wooden floor, its rays beaming through the small glass window to my left. Soon everyone at the Silver Finch would wake, and they’d notice my absence.
As I watched the light, my thoughts drifted to copper waves, and bright eyes. Without restraint, my thoughts tumbled out. “There’s this . . . man. He keeps showing up. Popping out of shadows like some self-righteous ghost. I don’t know what his intentions are but he seems harmless.”
Meeka turned her head to look down at me. “A paying client?”
“No.”
“Does he want to be?”
My shoulders lifted and fell. “I don’t know . . . at least I don’t think so. He just wants to talk.”
“Is he handsome?” Meeka asked.
I huffed a quiet breath. “Chiselled jaw, messy curls, a boyish grin, and muscles that strain through his shirt. Most girls would say yes.”
“But do you?” she pressed.
I stared at the floor, considering the question longer than I should have. I hadn’t let myself think of him that way. Thinking of men like that only led to disappointment.
“I suppose,” I muttered.
Meeka’s brow lifted. “That’s all I get? I tell you everything about Tommy.”
“What do you want me to say?” I sighed. “He appears out of nowhere, tries to talk to me like I’m a person and not something to be bought, and leaves me feeling things I’ve no right feeling. Besides, Tommy wouldn’t hurt a fly, so you’re allowed to tell me about him.”
I picked at a loose thread on my skirt. “Men like my stranger don’t look twice at girls like me. Not unless they’re paying.”
Meeka shifted beside me. “Maybe he’s not like the rest, Bly. Maybe he’d take you far from here—give you something better than this filth.”
She placed a finger under my chin, tilting it up to meet her softened gaze. “Better yet, maybe he’d love you.”
Something foreign blossomed in my chest. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t pleasure either. It felt like an old gear coming back to life, grinding and flaking with rust.
I sat up, my fingers finding purchase in the folds of my skirt. “Love is just another word for a leash, Meeka. Men want. Men take. It’s all they know how to do.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, but they never fell. “Well, I’m glad I’m not a man, because I could not bear your wrath.”
I offered her a smile that tugged the corners of my mouth. “You’re all I need in this life, Meeks.”
She threw her arms around my neck, and we embraced for a moment. As long as I had her, I could endure for a little longer.
“I should get those tonics and head back.”
Meeka nodded as she stood. I followed behind her as we headed to the front of the shop. The sun's warmth softened the chill in the room. Honey-coloured beams streamed through the window, catching the dust disturbed by the hems of our skirts, each mote floating through the light like fireflies.
I gathered the tiny glass bottles from Meeka’s counter, careful not to let them clink too loud in my basket.
Meeka hovered by the front door, worry written all over her pretty face. “I pray to whoever might be listening that soon you will be free of the Silver Finch . . . of him.”
Without hesitation, I reached out and squeezed her pale hand in mine. “Thanks for the tea.”
I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders, stepping into the cold, the sharp air biting at my skin like it wanted to strip me clean. I didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. Because one look at Meeka’s face would have me running back to the safety of her apothecary.
The thought of another girl dying at the hands of Kavish kept me moving back towards the only place I had to call home.
Because if I didn’t go back, Kavish would just choose someone else to punish.
The Silver Finch would still stand tomorrow, with or without me.
But maybe, if I was there, I could keep his attention away from the others.
My boots skidded on a patch of ice near the bend in the road—the one that split off towards the cemetery.
I slowed, just for a heartbeat. The old iron gate was half-hidden by winter fog, crooked like everything else in District Five. I thought of her—Mother—lying out there under a blanket of frost and silence. I could almost hear her humming that old sea shanty.
Always find another way before you sell yourself. Her words rang clear in my mind.
But how could I? Her own actions had taught the opposite. That this was the only way to survive.
A part of me wanted to push the gate open, to kneel in the dirt and tell her how wrong she’d been, or maybe how right.
But today? Today was too damn bitter for sweetness.
I didn’t have it in me. So I hitched my basket higher and kept walking, my breath curling in the cold like ghosts I didn’t dare name.
Before I realised, my feet stumbled up the back steps to the Silver Finch.
The scent of porridge and bacon greeted me.
The door creaked as I opened it, but the warmth of the room was welcome.
Cook had the fire raging, and my stomach groaned in protest as I drifted by the stove, but I couldn’t eat—not yet.
As I made my way through the kitchen into the parlour, low murmurs and the shrill laugh of Cordelia wafted through the doorway. She was up early. And what could she possibly have to laugh about when Lily’s lifeless body was carted out off the premises mere hours ago?
The shrew was perched on the edge of the bar, swinging her pretty legs like she owned the goddamn floor. Her dark hair pinned up just so, corset laced so tight her tits practically begged for attention. She caught sight of me and flashed those teeth—all sugar and poison.
“Poor Lily,” she purred loud enough for everyone to hear. “Couldn’t hack it, could she? This life’s not for soft girls. Better off dead, I say.”
My pulse slammed in my ears, fingers twitching around the basket handle.
I wanted to slap that smug look clean off her painted face and watch her teeth scatter like pearls across the floor.
But Kavish’s belt still burned under my skirts, a fresh reminder of what happened when I stepped out of line.
And, Cordelia wanted a scene. To make me a spectacle.
So I didn’t slap her, but I did move in close, so close I could see the smeared coal liner under her eyes, and the slight quiver in her lip.
“You keep her name out of your filthy mouth, Cordelia,” I hissed, my breath brushing her cheek. “You’re not half the girl Lily was on her worst day. All that painted skin won’t ever make you pretty. You’re nothing but a snake with too much rouge on.”
Her smile faltered, just for a second, but I saw it. I saw it—and I savoured it.
Hushed whispers sounded through the room.
I dragged my gaze over her, just long enough to let my words sink in. Then I took a step back, fished in my basket for the paper bag of tonics, placed them on the table with force, and spun on my heel.
My heart thundered as I walked away, fury buzzing just under my bruises.
One day I’d hit her.
Just not today.
On the outside I kept my pace steady. I didn’t want to give anyone the glory of seeing me unravel, but internally I was shaking. Fury rippled across my skin like wildfire with every step I took.
I shut my door with a quiet click, though part of me wanted to slam it hard enough to rattle the glass. It didn't matter. The walls were too thin in this place. Every secret soaked straight through the wood anyway.
Leaning against the door for a moment, I drew in a breath, trying to steady my nerves.
Once I felt I could see clearly, I dropped the basket on the rickety dresser and fished my cinderleaf from its rusted tin.
Pain bit through my thighs, the belt’s fresh stripes flaring up like fire under my skin.
I hissed and dragged my aching bones over to the window.
Perched on the sill, I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and watched the smoke curl like spirits against the frost-bitten glass.
My mind drifted—not to Lily this time, but to him.
The red-haired male with the sharp jaw and sharper eyes.
Ree never saw that punch coming—nose crunched in one clean hit.
Gods, what I’d give to have that in me. To feel my knuckles crack against Cordelia’s pretty mouth—against Kavish’s.
To watch him choke on his own spit and blood.
I sucked the smoke deep into my lungs, letting the burn chase the taste of bile from my throat. Down on the cobblestone below, the first scrap of morning light bled golden through the filthy street.
I crushed the orange, glowing stub out on the sill, listening to it sizzle as I closed my eyes. I rested the back of my head against the wooden frame and sighed.
Gold coins. The ocean. Freedom.