spring in her heart. Not after what she’d heard inside. Her shoulders sagged.
During her argument with the Cosantir, when she had said she’d leave Ailill Ridge, Pete told her flat-out she wasn’t allowed to leave.
Now, considering what Brett and Roger had said in the kitchen, she had a few questions. Like…had Pete lied to her? Surely a Cosantir wouldn’t be dishonest. Yet the betas said their healers had moved away. Possibly healers or males were allowed more flexibility.
Or maybe Pete had lied to her.
She took a big gulp of her coffee. And her determination crystalized. “I am leaving this place.”
She’d go somewhere—anywhere—else. Out of Pete’s territory. When she found a new town, she wouldn’t tell people she was a banfasa. There were other jobs in the world, ones that let a person be normal. She would be normal.
Well, mostly normal. She’d still have a weak ankle and—she drew a fingertip over the long scar on her cheek—a less than attractive face. But she’d be like other shifter females who worked at jobs and got paid and lived where they wanted.
Or would leaving be stupid? Anxiety tugged on her nerves like stitches being removed. Food and a place to live were necessary for survival. If she left, she might starve. Die.
The Cosantir was clever the way he’d trapped her in this cage. She growled. “I’m a shifter. I don’t do cages.”
A female laughed. “That’s good to hear.”
Margery’s head snapped around so quickly her neck muscles protested. A lanky redhead stood at the foot of the steps.
Caught talking to herself, she could only grin ruefully. “Hey, Heather. What brings you to Ailill Ridge?”
The wolf ran a business in a nearby town and occasionally showed up for pack runs. “I was visiting my littermates’ ranch and swung by to say hi to your neighbor.” Heather gestured to the house next door.
“Oh. Well. Want some coffee?”
“Nope, I’m good. But I’ll join you for a minute or two.” Heather came up the steps and took the chair next to Margery. “So, what cage are you in?”
“Um…”
“Yes, I’m nosy as a werecat.” Heather grinned. “No, I’m not ashamed of it.”
Margery hesitated. Should she ask Heather for help? No, that would be unwise. Heather’s loyalty was to the Cosantir and the pack alpha, not a newcomer. Giving up the momentary hope of escape, Margery settled for a bland response. “I guess you could say we’re all in cages when it comes down to it, right?”
“Wrong. There are cages and there are cages. I’m guessing whatever one you’re in is making you miserable.” Although Heather looked to be in her mid-thirties, her assured manner said older, maybe fifties. The Daonains’ slower aging made it difficult to guess.
“I can’t promise I have answers,” Heather added, “but I can promise what you say will go no further.”
“I…” The longing to be heard was impossible to resist. “It’s like this: Although I work as a banfasa and clean the communal house, I only get room and board. No money.” Her mouth twisted. “I don’t even get to choose what I eat.” Not since Portia had arrived.
“Room and board and no money?” Heather straightened. “And you’re stuck cleaning and being a banfasa. Girl, that comes to less than even minimum wage.”
“What’s a minimum wage?”
“Oh boy, I forget sometimes that you were a captive.” Heather shook her head. “We’ll discuss minimum wages another time. What I’m saying is that your recompense seems unfair. Have you talked to the Cosantir?”
“Yes. He disagreed and…” Margery pulled in a breath, unsure how much she should share.
“Keep going.”
“I overheard Roger say that not paying me is deliberate. It’s a way to ensure I can’t leave.”
“A crow-cursed cage is right,” Heather muttered.
“I don’t know all the rules though. Am I allowed to leave?”
“Of course you are. You’re an adult.”
“I know they assigned us, the Dogwood villagers, to specific towns,” Margery offered in case she was missing something.
“That was to make you harder to find, especially at first.” Heather put her feet up on the railing. “Right now, if too many of you congregated in one place, the Cosantirs might ask you to spread out, simply as a precaution. But there’s no reason you can’t leave this town and find one more to your liking. You’re no different than the unmated males who sometimes wander for years before settling. Or the ones who think they should visit every Gathering in the country.”
Oh Goddess, there is a Gathering tonight.
Margery’s stomach tightened at the thought. Like all fertile female shifters, she’d