Page 3 of His Noble Ruin

“But I’m not—”

“Just let me see it.”

I hesitated. The rank requirements on his stall were too high, but the pile of shiny red and green fruit beckoned to me. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small leather rectangle and handed it to him. I held my breath as the forged rank card left my fingers.

“I thought so,” he said. “Brand new card. Just turned seventeen, eh?”

“Yes. I wish I’d ranked higher than Class C, but the grammar tests . . . well, you know.”

The merchant dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’ll tell you what, uh”—he squinted at my card—“Bryn. I’m in a good mood today. If you’ve got the money, I might be willing to make an exception for a pretty young lady like yourself.”

“No, thanks. I’ll just find another . . .” My words trailed away when two young faces peered around the cart. Their eyes were wide and hopeful, but their ragged clothing revealed scrawny arms and legs.

I bit my lip and glanced back at the street. Before I could stop and think what my father would say, I pushed a handful of cowry shells into the merchant’s hand. “What will this get me?”

His smile widened as he swept up an armful of apples.

I fidgeted with my bag’s strap, anxious to take my purchase and leave. But just before he handed over the fruit, an angry voice barked from behind me.

I dropped my bag to the ground and kicked it under the fruit cart, then lifted my head high before turning around.

“I sincerely hope you are both respecting the law with this transaction.” An Enforcer brushed a hand across his prominent badge and glared at me before looking at the merchant.

“Of course, sir. As always.” The merchant gulped, his eyes flitting to his children as he flashed a smile.

“Is that so? She doesn’tlooklike a noble.” He put his hand out toward me. “Reveal your card.”

I stood up straighter, preparing my tongue for a noble accent. “Please, Enforcer. I do hope you will accept my sincerest apologies for this unfortunate misunderstanding.”

The Enforcer’s eyebrows lowered and he fixed a skeptical eye on my clothing, his distrust as obvious as the badge on his chest.

I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my chin. Underneath my pride, my heart pounded. “As I arrived, I came to the startling realization that I had misplaced my clutch—one of those new designs that every woman in my quarter covets. Such exquisite pearl detail! Of course, my rank card was lost with it. So, you see, I am not able to present it at this moment, but this respectable merchant agreed to the purchase since he knows perfectly well who I am.”

Both the merchant and the Enforcer gaped.

The Enforcer eyed my dress, clearly wanting an explanation for my poor taste but apparently afraid to insult me in case I was telling the truth. “Carry on, then,” he finally said. “Excuse me, milady.” The Enforcer nodded his head in a slight bow.

My breath released, but before he took two steps, a voice called out.

“That’s not fair!” shouted the pear merchant. “She came to my cart first! If I’d been willing to break the law, those shells would be mine!”

The Enforcer stopped and turned back to me, his face reddening. “I’m afraid he is correct. Whether or not you are a noble, protocol dictates—”

“Leave her alone, sir.” The apple merchant shot a worried look at the ground, where his children cowered behind the cart. “We didn’t do nothing wrong.”

The Enforcer shut his eyes and groaned. “That is the most intolerable grammar I’ve heard in weeks.” He reached a hand inside his suit coat and pulled out a metal contraption, stepping around the stall toward the man. “Let me prevent you from damaging more ears.”

The merchant held up his hands and backed away. “No, no, please! I’ve worn branks before. I still have the scars. Please!”

“Resistance will only increase the punishment,” said the Enforcer as he forced the silver bridle over the merchant’s head. “I had already intended to revoke your market privileges for at least a week, but I can certainly make it longer.”

“No! My family—”

This was my chance to run. But when I reached down to retrieve my bag from under the cart, a glimpse of a small, trembling hand stopped me. I froze, crouched on the ground with my hand on the strap. I felt stares on my back; the whole street was likely watching the drama unfold.

The merchant let out a gagged scream from the other side of the cart. The bridle would soon be in place, pinning his tongue in an excruciating position that would make it impossible to speak until the Enforcers decided his punishment was complete. That is, if they didn’t forget and let him starve to death first.

The war between what I should do and what I wanted to do raged inside my heart. I knew what my father would say. He wouldn’t want me to risk the mission on one family when so many lives were at stake. Besides, the man was beyond my help.

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