Serena scurried back to her room and grabbed the satchel, then she returned with her head held high.
“For our taxes.”She handed over the bulging bag.
He took it, peered into it, likely doing a quick count.Then he looked back at her with narrowed eyes.
“What trickery is this?”he asked.
“What do you mean?”Her heart rammed against her ribs.“It’s the gold you asked for.Payment in full.”
“This is more than what’s owed,” he snapped.
At that, the sheriff leaned over to peer down into the bag.His eyes went wide at the amount of gold there.
“I know.”Her voice was stronger than she had expected.“How much for the Hornraven family’s debt?”
He studied her.Perhaps a little suspicious or a little impressed.She didn’t know which.
“You’re paying for them?”
She nodded.“I am.”
He named the sum.She didn’t react, didn’t move a muscle.But the amount was far more than she expected.
“Then that should be enough,” she said.
He stared at her, as though he wanted to object, but didn’t.
“Very well.”
He spun on his heel and stalked away from the door.The sheriff lingered there a moment longer, confusion on his face, before he turned and left, too.
Only when the door shut did she feel a tug beneath her breast.Pulling, as though something came loose.She staggered back, gripping the edge of the table.The tug beneath her ribs was sharp, aching.Like a thread yanked loose from her soul.She gasped, clutching the table.Something’s gone.A song?A name?A face?She reached for it, but it was already dust.
The door to her father’s room opened, and Maris stepped out, her wide-eyed gaze going from Serena to the closed front door and back again.Question was written all over her face.
“The taxes…?”
“Paid,” Serena said, her tone calm and steady.Much calmer than she felt.
Maris’s eyebrows drew together.“But how?”
“I told you before I would find a way, and I did.”
Her heartbeat increased as she thought of the mysterious man and the wishing well.She did not dare tell her sister about either, or her father, because she didn’t want to have to explain how it was even possible that he made her wish come true.
Maris had more questions, but her father called from his bed.
“Find Papa something to eat,” Serena said.
Maris huffed, but she ignored her and entered the room, trepidation skittering through her.
Her father was propped up on the pillows of his bed.His arms resting by his side, the blankets tucked underneath them.His face was deathly pale, eyes closed, lips pressed together.A sheen of sweat beaded his forehead.His dark hair was plastered against his head.
The room smelled of death.
She hated it.
She hated seeing her father succumb to the sickness that had plagued him these last few years.
