of those?” Kylar asked. Now the house was getting smaller.
“These are actually the rings I was telling you about earlier. The ones Master Bourary’s great-great-great grandfather made, mistarille over gold with diamonds?” She smiled weakly. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to embarrass you. They weren’t even supposed to be in this case.”
“How ridiculous a price are we talking?” Kylar asked.
“Ridiculous,” she said.
“How ridiculous?”
“Totally ridiculous.” She winced.
Kylar sighed. “Just tell me.”
“Thirty-one thousand four hundred queens. Sorry.”
It hit Kylar in the stomach. It was a coincidence, of course, but . . . Elene would call it the divine economy. He’d sold Retribution for exactly what it would cost to marry her.
With nothing left over? Elene, if this is your God’s economy, you serve a niggardly God. I don’t even have enough left to buy a wedding knife.
“On the bright side,” Capricia said, forcing a chuckle, “we’d throw in a wedding knife free.”
A block of ice dropped into Kylar’s stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she said, mistaking the stricken expression on his face. “We do have some lovely—”
“You get paid a commission on your sales?” he asked.
“One-tenth of anything over a thousand in sales a day,” she said.
“So, if you sold these, what would you do with—what?—more than three thousand queens?”
“I don’t know—why are you—”
“What would you do?”
She shrugged and started to answer, stopped, and finally said, “I’d move my family. We live in a pretty rough neighborhood and we keep having trouble with—oh, what does it matter? Believe me, I’ve dreamed about it ever since I started working here. I thought about selling those rings and how it would change everything for us. I used to pray about it every day, but my mother says we’re safe enough. Anyway, the God doesn’t answer greedy prayers like that.”
Kylar’s heart went cold. They’d move away from that vengeful, arrogant little Shinga. Kylar wouldn’t have to commit murder to keep them safe.
“No,” Kylar said, pocketing the mistarille earrings and grabbing a wedding knife. “He answers them like this.” He heaved the chest onto the counter and opened it. Capricia gaped. Her hands shook as she unfolded note after note. She looked up at Kylar, tears filling her eyes.
“Tell your parents your guardian angel said to move. Not next week. Not tomorrow. Tonight. When I saved you, I embarrassed the Shinga. He’s sworn revenge.”
Her eyes stayed huge, but she nodded imperceptibly. Her hand popped up like an automaton’s. “Gift box?” she asked in a strangled voice. “Free.”
He took the jewelry box from her hand and walked out the door, locking it behind him. He tucked the earrings in the decorative box, and dropped it all in a pocket, suddenly as poor as a pauper. He’d sold his birthright. He’d given away one of the last things he had to remember Durzo by. He’d traded a magical sword for two metal circles. And now he didn’t have a copper to his name. Thirty-one thousand four hundred queens and he didn’t even have enough left over to buy Uly a birthday present.
We’re finished, God. From now on, you answer your own fucking prayers.
23
Are you and Elene going to be all right?” Uly asked. They were working together that evening, Uly fetching ingredients while Kylar brewed a draught that reduced fevers.
“Of course we are. Why?”
“Aunt Mea says it’s fine you fight so much. She says that if I’m scared I just have to listen and if I hear the bed creaking after you fight, I’ll know things will be all right. She says that means that you’ve made up. But I never hear the bed creaking.”
Blood rushed to Kylar’s cheeks. “I, well, I think . . . You know, that’s a question you should ask Elene.”
“She said to ask you, and she got all embarrassed too.”
“I’m not embarrassed!” Kylar said. “Hand me the mayberry.”
“Aunt Mea says it’s wrong to lie. I’ve seen horses mating at the castle, but Aunt Mea says it’s not scary like that.”
“No,” Kylar said quietly, mashing the mayberry with a pestle, “it’s scary in its own way.”
“What?” Uly asked.
“Uly, you are way too young for us to have this conversation. Yarrow root.”
“Aunt Mea said you might say that. She said she’d talk to me about it if you were too embarrassed. She just made me promise to ask you first.” Uly handed him the knotted brown root.
“Aunt Mea,” Kylar said, “thinks about sex too much.”
“Ahem,” a voice said behind Kylar. He flinched.
“I’m going out to check on Mistress Vatsen,” Aunt Mea said. “Do you need anything?”