Page 6

When we part, we’re both wiping tears from our eyes. “Well, you might feel a little differently in a year’s time when you haven’t slept for days and you’ve got three babies all trying to suckle from the same teat.”

She bursts into a watery laugh as her husband curls her into his side.

“Do you really think it’s possible?”

Affection and longing fill my chest as I take in the sight of them.

“Entirely.”

Several hours and one mini panic attack later, the only thing that holds me back from putting my head through a wall just to end this misery is the fact that I’ve been able to heal so many people today.

I’m practically slumped over in the chair that is my deliberately understated throne as the final petitioner arrives.

I’m ready to weep with gratitude that this day is so very nearly over.

Shame rings through me dark, yet crystal clear, as the next petitioner flutters into the room on her gossamer, fairy-like wings. I can’t help but envy her and her ability to just… be herself. Wear her skin so comfortably. Like daemons, syriths are not exactly held in high regard.

And yet, here she is, entering my court like she fucking owns it and so unabashedly herself with long, wavy, blue-black hair, adorned in a full-length dress that buttons high at the neck but clings to every glorious, voluptuous curve like a reverent and worshipful acolyte.

Like syrens, syriths are notorious for their abilities of enchantment, among other things. Unless they maintain a firm grip on their magic, simply gazing upon one is enough to lull you into their grasp. Just one of many reasons they’re shunned from society. Outside of brothels, that is.

“State your name and petition, please.”

She gives me a serene smile, bowing, before straightening.

“Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. My name is Violette Lark, and I’ve come to request a business loan.”

Fuck me in the eye sockets.

“I am…”

The heat of Reginald’s stare burning a hole into the side of my face bolsters my strength.

“… not a bank, Miss Lark.”

Violette’s hands flex at her sides, belying an anxiety I hadn’t noticed in the face of her beauty and perfectly put-together appearance.

“Yes, Your Grace. I do realize, but I—I’m not terribly fond of my current profession.”

“Which is what?”

“Currently, I’m a mistress at one of the local brothels.”

Guilt that can’t possibly be my own fists my heart.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Everything within me screams that I rescue her. Gods be damned, if only I hadn’t given my ring to the farmer.

Reginald knows me too well. His stare continues to bore a hole through me.

With a trembling hand, I massage my brow in a futile attempt to ease the tension in my body.

“And what is it exactly that you’d rather do?”

“I wish to become a matchmaker. It would bring me tremendous joy and fulfillment to unite soulbound. Truly, there is no greater honor. ”

I, too, would love for her to pursue her dreams and become a matchmaker. If only there weren’t a fucking syphon on the royal coffers as we rebuild after the war, and the palace wasn’t down to rations. The weight of this responsibility, which I never wanted, is slowly crushing me.

Reginald’s gaze remains fixed on me, and I am ready to weep. My words come out warbled from the emotion crawling up my throat.

“A matchmaker, you say?”

Violette nods, hope bright in her emerald eyes. “Yes, Your Grace.”

I draw in a deep breath to soothe my nerves, and I manage a forced smile. “What a beautiful idea.”

Akash almighty, save me.

Violette watches me expectantly, and still, I can’t form the word no on my tongue.

“You know, I must say… that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing.”

Even from the corner of my eye, I can see Reginald’s face scrunching up like I’ve lost my mind, while Violette gives me a pretty grin, smoothing her hands over her slender waist and the voluptuous curve of her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Grace.”

Reginald clears his throat. “A word, your highness?”

I nod, and the Syrith bows her head as if that will be enough to prevent her from hearing our conversation. Reginald throws a barrier around us.

“Your Grace, you seem to be struggling with the idea of rejecting Ms. Lark’s proposal, but I feel compelled to remind you that we’re still recovering from the war.

Eye on the prize: replenish the coffers while also continuing to rebuild what was lost. That is our focus.

Urgent matters only are to be taken into consideration, remember? ”

“But surely, saving this woman from sexual servitude is urgent!”

Reginald breathes in an exhausted sigh. “Your highness, our entire economy is on the verge of collapse. Many of our towns still lie in rubble. Countless families are still displaced. As much as I would love to save everyone, you can’t pour from an empty cup.

If you like, I will make a note of her name for us to revisit her proposal in a year’s time, if our circumstances have improved. Alright?”

I manage a nod, even though all I want to do is cry.

Reginald frowns. “And Your Grace, you will never be able to save everyone. Sometimes people have to save themselves.”

I want to puke after hearing that. If my uncle hadn’t succeeded in ending the war and been able to save me, I’d still be in that prison cell, only released to slave away in the camp, and worse…

Reginald lowers the barrier, and Violette looks up, hope filling her gaze. The words taste like ash and are equally difficult to swallow.

“Miss Lark, I…”

Holding his breath, Reginald watches me, and I’m pretty sure his eye twitches.

“I’m afraid I can’t provide a loan to you.”

Violette’s expression crumples and then hardens, shaking her head at me as she tosses her gaze around at the palace. “Of course you can’t. Look at this monstrosity you live in. How else will you afford to continue living in the lap of luxury if it’s not on the backs of those beneath you?”

I am… speechless.

And yet, I can see how she might think that, even if it is quite the opposite. My heart shatters, and before I can muster a worthy reply, Reginald begins barking orders for her to be thrown out of the palace, as tears swell that I refuse to let fall.

The guards haul her off, and I feel panic spike inside me. My mind scrambles for something to say, and for some Akash- forsaken reason, the most inept words fathomable rush out of me in a shout.

“It’s for the greater good!”