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1
DIANE
Ibite my pinky nail off, the last my fingers have to offer, but not the last of my erratic nerves.
“I’m trying, Diane.” Mother says.
“You’re fine, Momma. You just stay in bed.” I wipe away my tears, smudging my cheeks further, before ladling her portion of the vegetable broth.
I pull back the curtain, separating Mother’s space from the one room shack we can barely afford. It’s squalor, even for Lowtowns, but in my efforts to balance shelter and food, it’s the best I can do with next to no coin.
Mother sits in bed, as she has for the past five weeks. Her blonde hair, a shade lighter than my dirty blonde bob, sticks to her face and neck in sweaty swaths. I reach past my younger brother, James, to hand her the bowl.
Quicker than a snake, James’ hands grab the bowl before Mother fumbles the meager soup on her lap. “Be careful!” He takes the spoon and feeds our mother.
“Sorry,” I mumble. Any louder and my frayed nerves will push the flood of tears dammed behind my sky-blue eyes.
I close the curtain behind me and rush past my own thin curtain to lay on the pile of straw I call a bed. I take a deep breath.I can cry when they’re asleep. Not yet.
I compose myself and fix James’ bowl, placing it on the floor next to him. I eat my dinner and wash my bowl out with a rag, all while my mind churns over my options.
Mother’s not getting better and healing her could only come from expensive potions. The elves have the magic to heal her with a wave of their hand, but the bastards won’t. Humans might as well be motes of dust to them. Flecks of nothing that come and go. Worthless.
Though, that’s not wholly true. There is one thing elves use humans for.
I glance back at mother’s room. Her pained moans and James’ consoling eke out from behind the threadbare curtain.She wouldn’t allow it.
But what can she allow or not allow if she’s dead?
If I do this, if I give myself up to that world, I’ll be gone. James will be all alone to take care of Mother. I can send money but… I remind myself that if it wasn’t for James and his sticky fingers, we’d have nothing but boiled water for dinner.He can take care of himself. And with the money I can send home, he can take care of Mother.
A weight settles over my heart. It calms my fears of uncertainty, but it squeezes so tight with the fear of loss.At best, I won’t see them for months. At worst, I’ll never see them again.
I rise from the floor and stand at Mother’s curtain for a moment, gripping the sides of my dress. I take a deep breath and walk in.
James glances at me before holding the bowls out to me.
“I’ll take them in a moment.” I walk to the other side of the bed, the only real bed we have.
I go to sit on the edge, but James shouts, “Don’t! She doesn’t like it when you sit on the bed.”
Mother waves me to her. “I said it hurts a little, not that I don’t like it. Come, sweetheart.” She huffs air as if those few words were the same as running to the castle and back.
I sit next to her and take one of her frail hands in mine. “How are you feeling, Momma? Did the soup help?”
Her thin lips that used to be so full struggle to curl into a smile. “You’ll do well, Diane.”
“What?” My brow scrunches.
Mother chuckles, still keeping her smile even though her eyes close in a wince. “I said, you did well. With the soup, that is.”
“Oh. Good. I’m glad you liked it.” I bite my bottom lip, wondering how I’m going to phrase this. “I—”
“Promise me.” Her hand tightens on mine, a firmer grip than she’s had in weeks. “You won’t do what I did.”
It takes everything in me to not let my jaw drop.How did she know?
“That life glitters but ends in pain and misery.”
