Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The debt to pay
sapphire
I woke to birdsong at the window. A small yellow thing perched on the sill, feathers bright as sunlight.
Its sharp, sweet tune cut through the quiet, threading into my chest like something gentle and unearned.
Most of the birds in The Grey had tucked themselves away in warmer places for the winter, leaving only the crows to caw from the tops of streetlamps.
It'd been such a long time since I saw pretty ones.
In a flutter of feathers, it flew from the windowsill and towards the trees.
As I watched him flit from branch to branch, peace washed over me.
Peace that felt so wonderful and so wrong.
Perhaps I was still dreaming and when I truly woke, I would find that Lucius wasn’t real and I was knocked out somewhere in a back alley in Oscuro.
I sunk further into the blankets, relishing the softness and safety that they offered.
The small bed Abby had given me was comfortable, but this bed was something else entirely.
I didn’t think I'd ever had a night's sleep where I slept soundly, unafraid that Rhodes was on top of me, choking the last of my breath.
With a sigh, I rolled over to face the door. It was locked. The key was next to the coin and ribbons beside my bed. They sat there, silent, but loud—reminders that I had a choice to make . . . and a debt to pay.
My thoughts drifted to the kiss, lingering on the way Nik’s mouth felt over mine.
Soft, warm, supple. The moment my lips touched his, heat travelled through me at an alarming rate.
Usually when I kissed men, they tasted like day old socks immersed in ale.
But Nik’s taste was fresh, light . . . desirable.
Then he pulled away, leaving me empty—hollow.
I wasn’t ashamed of my actions, or hurt . . . just confused. Men don’t refuse a kiss. They don’t stop when they’re given an open door. They take what they want. That’s the rule. The only rule that ever made sense.
If he didn’t want my body, then what did he want? Conversation? Trust? A future? No man has ever waited for anything but the chance to own or use. And I wasn’t foolish enough to think he was different just because he had soft eyes and gentle hands.
I huffed quietly to myself and slowly climbed out of bed. As I pulled the blankets neat, I couldn’t shake Nik’s words. He said he wanted to kiss me—just not like that.
As if there was a right way. As if he was waiting for something cleaner, softer, better than what I was.
He said he’d wait until I wanted him.
Fine. Let him wait.
He was an unpredictable problem that I didn’t have the mental capacity to figure out. I just needed to gather my strength, find a way to get out of here, and leave all of these folk behind. No one needs the weight I carry present in their home.
Not after what I saw in town.
The memory slipped in uninvited—warm sunlight spilling across cobbled streets, laughter drifting through the air like it belonged there, easy and unguarded.
People brushing past one another without flinching, without watching their backs.
Children running around barefoot, and laughing with such freedom.
I’d caught myself staring too long, trying to understand how something so soft could exist without being taken, twisted, or sold.
I didn’t fit there.
I could feel it in the way my shoulders stayed tight when everyone else was loose, in the way I tracked every movement like something was about to go wrong. In the way kindness made my stomach knot instead of ease.
That world wasn’t made for someone who only knew bitterness.
And Nik . . . he belonged to it.
Which meant I didn’t belong with him.
I crossed to the dresser where Adalia’s borrowed dresses were folded in neat stacks inside the drawers, and chose one at random.
The fabric slid through my fingers. I took a moment to appreciate the delicate stitching.
Everything here was so well made, like folk were actually proud of the work they did, taking time and effort to perfect the craft.
I threw the nightgown onto the bed and slipped the dress over my figure before drifting to stand in front of the full-length mirror. I’d never had a big mirror at the Silver Finch. Didn’t need one. No one cared what we looked like past the parts they paid for.
The dress was a soft fawn colour. Light cotton, fitted bodice with a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, and a skirt that fell just below my knees—simple, but made with a kind of care that I’d only witnessed in the gowns my mother used to make.
I smoothed my hands down my hips, pressing out wrinkles that weren’t even there. Brown flats sat under the mirror. I’d never owned shoes like that. They were either heeled boots that pinched, or haggard ones that kept the winter bite out but the summer heat in.
I stared at my reflection. Same face. Same blue hair. Same scars hiding underneath the softness of the dress.
With a sigh, I shook my head. Too many thoughts racing around had me feeling dizzy. “He said he wanted to kiss me . . . just not like that,” I whispered, my mind still caught on Nik’s words. What does that even mean?
My body was the only leverage I’d ever had. Now it was useless. Perhaps those days were behind me now and once I was free of Lucius, I would have to find different ways to survive.
Buttery yellow sunlight poured through the window, spilling across the floor. It danced over me, highlighting my wings as I turned. I glanced at them over my shoulder in the mirror, they seemed lighter than usual, the tips of each feather a darker grey.
Honestly, I was truly losing my mind. I needed food, and a hot tea.
I floated over to the bedside table, collecting the pocket-sized key. Unlocking the door to the room terrified me. Because the moment I opened it meant the walls I built to protect myself had to go back up.
The kitchen smelled like warm toast and fried bacon when I stepped in. Nik was already there, sleeves rolled to his forearms, pouring tea into two white cups like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He looked up as I neared, a smile stretching across his face. “Morning,” he said, voice calm, as if we hadn't kissed last night. As if I hadn’t offered myself the only way I knew how, and been . . . refused.
“Morning,” I replied stiffly as I moved to the table to sit down.
I watched him intently as he flitted about the kitchen, dishing up the bacon and what looked like fried tomatoes. He picked up two plates and strode towards me, placing one down in front of me, and the other opposite. Then he pulled out his chair and sat.
“You sleep alright?” he asked, reaching for the cutlery beside his plate.
I dipped my head once. “Yes, fine. Thanks.”
He smiled and dug into his food with such ease, scarlet wings gently swaying above his head. Maybe if I had pretty wings like his, I’d like the ones I was given.
I reached for the cup, lifting it to my lips.
The liquid was a black tea, with a dash of milk but as I inhaled, I detected a berry scent.
It warmed the back of my throat as I swallowed it down.
Every time I ate or drank in Lucius, it was a whole new experience tasting flavours I didn’t even know existed.
We ate in silence, making eye contact briefly at times. Each time it happened, that warm feeling spread through my chest and worked its way down between my legs. I hated it. No man that had ever touched me made me desire him.
It wouldn’t start now.
Nik cleaned his plate before I did, but I finished soon after. He watched me, unreadable. Not staring. Not evaluating. Just . . . present. Patient. Men weren’t patient. Not with me. I didn’t know what to do with it.
“Would you like to go for a walk this morning?” he asked.
A walk. Something so simple, and yet to me it felt like so much more. It was intimate. Wings brushing. Close proximity. Lightner’s smiles and greetings like an overdose of sunshine.
Yet what else did I have to do?
“I suppose,” I replied.
He grinned, standing from the table. “Wonderful, I’ll get my shoes.”
~~~~~
Lucius was too bright.
Not just the sky, or the flowers lining the stone paths, or the way the sunlight seeped into every crack leaving no room for shadows. No. It was the folk who dwelt here—the Lightners. They glowed. Smiling at each other like it was natural, like they had nothing to fear.
No one watched their backs. No one scanned for danger, expecting it to leap from hidden spaces to devour them whole. Children did not beg on corners for scraps of food. And all the pretty women weren’t owned by men with plenty of coin.
It was all too good to be true.
Nik walked beside me in silence, hands tucked inside his trouser pockets, greeting folk with his pretty smile and gentle ease. I envied the way he laughed so easily, joy spilling from his throat in a way that made my chest spasm.
There was no way that I would ever belong here.
Oscuro knew it. The moment I died it heard my darkness and sucked me behind its putrid walls. Any day now Lucius would spit me out, offer me back to the shadows from which I came.
We were halfway down the street when the sound of a bell rang through the air. It was deep, resonant, impossible to ignore. It rolled through the city like a pulse, like something waking up. I flinched hard, my heart slamming into my ribs as every instinct screamed danger.
I grabbed Nik’s arm without realising, my fingers curling around his forearm. All around us Lightners stopped. Then, as one, they all broke into cheers. The suddenness of it made my skin prickle. Hands lifted. Wings flared. Voices rose in joy, not fear.
“May the light guide you!” someone called.
“And keep you!” came the answer, echoing back in a hundred voices.
I froze, breath shallow, ready to run at the first sight of danger. “Nik—”
He turned to me at once, reading the tension in my body. “Hey, you’re alright,” he said softly, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “It’s just a bell.”
“A bell doesn’t make an entire city stop,” I whispered.