The knock came before dawn, and Mavis never knocked unless it was bad.
Mavis: Your brother's fever spiked in the night. He's asking for you.
He was shaking under two blankets and his skin was too hot under my hand.
Niall: Avery. Did you bring it? The tonic.
His voice was a scratch. Sixteen years old, and he sounded like an old man.
There was nothing on the shelf but dust and the little tag with his name on it.
Avery: Where is it? Mavis, where's the last bottle?
Mavis: Gone. You know where it went.
Mavis: Your husband gave it to the other woman's boy. I watched him do it.
Knowing it and hearing it in daylight were two different things.
Avery: Then I'll go and get it back.
Mavis: Girl. You walk into that hall now, he'll make you pay for it in front of everyone.
Avery: He already made me pay. Niall's the one still waiting.
The hall was full for the morning meal, and every single face turned when the door banged open.
Caelan sat at the head with Miles on his knee, feeding him bread and honey like the boy was made of glass.
Rosalind sat at his right hand. In my chair. With my shawl on her shoulders.
I walked up the middle of that hall with my heart going like a hammer and stopped right in front of him.
Avery: Niall's fever spiked. He needs the tonic, Caelan. The one you took off the shelf.
Caelan: And good morning to you too.
Miles looked up at me with honey on his chin. He was small and thin and he hadn't done one thing wrong. I still wanted to scream.
Caelan: Miles finished that bottle days ago. There's nothing left to give you.
Avery: Then send a rider to the next town. Mavis says the fever's in his chest now.
Caelan: I've got forty men on the pans. I'm not spending a rider on a cough.
He leaned down so only I could hear, and his voice went low and mean.
Caelan: You want to make a scene in my hall over a boy who's had a cold before? He can wait. You're being dramatic.
Rosalind: Caelan, maybe we could spare something. I'd hate for anyone to go without because of Miles.
Soft as milk. She said it loud enough for the whole hall, and every face turned to her like she'd offered up her own blood.
Caelan: See? That's how a woman acts. Not standing in my hall screeching over a fucking cough.
His fingers dug into my arm hard enough to leave marks, and he shook me once, like a dog with a rag.
He was close enough that I could smell the salt on his coat, and some stupid part of me still noticed how warm his hand was.
That was the part of me I hated most.
Avery: Take your hand off me.
Caelan: Then watch your mouth in my house.
He let go. Not because I asked. Because the hall was watching, and he likes to look fair.
The house keys hung at her belt where mine used to hang, and her soft eyes met mine and didn't look away.
She wasn't sorry. She was winning, and she wanted me to see it.
Caelan: Avery. You walk out of this hall and you come back when I say. Don't test me.
I didn't turn around. I don't know if that was brave or just the last of my pride.
Niall slept in fits, and I sat with him and counted his breaths because there was nothing else I could do.
Two years I'd kept that man's house and his ledgers and his name. And when I finally needed something back, he called me dramatic in front of the whole pack.
He'd kissed me in front of them all and pinned this on me, and I'd let myself believe it meant something.
It meant nothing. It was for show, like everything he did for me.
So how much longer do I keep protecting everyone else before I protect myself?