Page 82 of Bound

Was that wrong? When Mama had been so adamant that she take care of things on her own.

Braum had been softening her to the idea. With his relentless insistence that this was normal, perhaps even expected. That needs were acceptable, that they might be met. Burdens were meant to be shared.

A different life.

And it frightened her.

She liked her life. Lonely though it could be at times. It was safe and familiar, and to change felt like an insult to her mama.

“If... if you’d like to make enquiries. And maybe... encourage them a little, to get my stall put to rights, I’d be grateful.”

Why did it cost so much to say it? Why did her pride prickle and some insistent voice deep inside insist she was a failure for having accepted even that much from him?

This was her father. He was hers first, no matter what happened afterward. No matter who had happened afterward.

She’d warmed to the idea of friends, only to have it dashed too soon afterward.

But family was permanent, wasn’t it? Perhaps not in lodging, but in blood.

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And the rest? Perhaps I should take to hiding coin pouches into nooks about the house if you aren’t willing to say you need some.” She could pay Braum, then. If... if he came back.

One less debt. One less obligation tied up in a title she refused to even contemplate.

Her fingers curled and her heart raced. And despite the awkward shuffle around her father, she managed to stand, gesturing for him to follow.

If he’d noticed the new fence, he had made no mention of it. She didn’t want to talk about Braum. To her father, or to Merryweather, or to anyone else. Not when there was a tight knot in her stomach whenever she so much as thought about him.

But his note made it clear he would be back. Or perhaps his visits would be restricted to the market, and she needed to be ready.

“How much would you pay for that?”

His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at her with a peculiar look in his eye. Shouldn’t she know how much she paid for the lumber? For the labour if she hadn’t been the one to fix it herself?

She gave her braid a tug and refused to look at him. “Let me look,” he said at last, and he drifted toward the fence line, walking the perimeter. It was more than apparent which boards were new and which were old. Which posts had been freshly pounded and poured, and she swallowed as he doubtlessly tallied just how hard Braum had worked.

The city had walls rather than fences. Courtyards surrounded by stone and mortar. Some even without doors. Private, only for the Harquilto access.

Or that’s what Firen had told her, her eyes full of apology as she tried very hard not to glance at Wren’s stunted wings.

He came back to her with a serious expression. “It’s fine work,” he affirmed, but she’d already known that. “There’s no shame in hiring help,” he continued, nudging her arm so she’d look at him. “But whoever did it should have given you a fair price before it was done.” He frowned. “Did he cheat you? If you paid over ten crowns, I’ll have words with him.”

She flinched. She didn’t even deal in crowns; the mothers frequenting her stalls paid in pennies—which were then spent on spices and teas.

Her father reached over and tugged her braid for her. “Come on now, sweet. Tell me what you need, or I’ll start guessing.”

Her throat ached, and she wished she had drunk more of her tea before coming out here. Merryweather looked at them both from her perch on one of the fence posts, her eyes blinking lazily. She’d be napping in the stable soon enough. “Ten crowns,” she got out, hating it. Hating that Braum had talked her into it, hating that she did not have the coins to pay for it herself.

Da’s brows furrowed. “Help me understand, please. You took on a contract you couldn’t pay?”

She turned away from him. “He would not give me a price. No matter how many times I asked. So then we worked out a trade, instead, but now...” Now she knew that he’d deceived her. That his terms had been steeped with hidden expectations. “It won’t suit. So I need to pay him in coin.” She turned, feeling miserable and unsettled. “If it’s too much, I... I’ll make up the rest. Sell more. Try my hand at butter or...”

He reached for her. Settled his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “I did not say that. Your father isn’t as poor as that.”

She slumped, tucking her arms about herself as she nodded. She wasn’t going to cry, not when that would only make her seem even more foolish and incapable. Getting into deals she didn’t fully understand, no matter how much she’d tried to settle the terms and he’d...

“Would you like me to be here next time? To talk with him directly? Should I know those terms you decided couldn’t be met?”

She chewed at her cheek and suppressed her shrug of dismissal. “No. I just... won’t be using his service again, that’s all.”