Chapter 4

Chapter Four

R hyon still would not deign to even look in my direction, let alone utter a word to me the next morning. At last, though, as dawn broke over the city and the morning haze lifted to reveal only the shroud of red mist, his hunger had driven him from his room and now he sat at the table while I cooked, adamantly keeping his gaze on the wood in front of him.

At least he would not starve to prove his anger. Another similarity between us. I'd tried, as a child, to win arguments with my mother by refusing to eat, but she had far more experience at being stubborn than I had, and I always broke first.

The click and drag of the front door opening caught both our attention. Our eyes met briefly before Rhyon turned his gaze towards the doorway with a flush in his cheeks, as if gazing upon his own sister was a petty crime, worthy of punishment.

I watched him for a heartbeat longer, aching to go and smooth out the sleep-wild hair at his forehead. I watched as the furrow in his forehead smoothed out and he jolted from his chair, the legs screeching against the wood as he flung himself through the doorway and into Emyl's arms.

I turned back around to finish making breakfast.

"Hi, Rhy." He grunted at the end of the word, groaning as he picked up Rhyon, who giggled. The sound of their affection cut through me, my hand tightening around the wooden spoon pushing the meat around the pan. Footsteps scuffled across the floors. "Odyssa, I did not expect you to be up."

"Yes. Someone needed to make Rhyon breakfast." I didn't turn around. Couldn't. "Would you like any?"

"No, I ate already." His voice was flat, cold. I was glad I could not see his face, at least.

I bit down on my tongue to hold back the retort, swallowing down the words I desperately wanted to say. More sounds of chairs scraping and bodies falling into chairs filled the kitchen. Hushed words passed between my brothers, soft enough that I could not make them out, not that I wanted to hear what they had to say.

Even though all three of us believed me responsible for our mother's death, I would do as she'd asked me with her last breaths. I would care for my brothers, protect them. Even if they hated me for it.

My ears rang, the shrill sound drowning out all else. They did not have to love me. They just had to live.

Somehow I managed to finish cooking and plating Rhyon's food without injuring myself. Setting down the plate in front of him, my mind was already spinning through what else needed to be done today: laundry, cleaning, meeting with the funeral home about the cremation costs. My knees wavered, my hand catching the table the only thing keeping me upright.

We could not even give my mother a headstone. Even if the graveyards hadn't been pushed beyond their capacity, we would not have been able to afford it. Our mother's memory would only be honored in our home, in private. She deserved statues and monuments, and I could not give her that.

"Odyssa." Emyl's voice startled me out of my thoughts, and his hand wavered in the space around my wrist, like he'd gone to touch me but thought better of it. His fingers flexed in the air before he drew them back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. He thrust it into my hands. "Here. This was hanging up at the pub."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the paper from him. He jerked his hands back as soon as I'd grasped the edges, wiping his hands on his thighs. I balled the paper into my fist. "I am not contagious, Emyl. I cannot give you the plague simply because I had it nearly six months ago."

His dark eyes narrowed. "The castle is looking for new servants, and the pay is more than enough to support us all."

A quick glance down at the paper in my hand confirmed his words. My anger cracked through the careful walls I'd rebuilt overnight, and now I could not draw it back in. "On its own, barely. This would only be enough if we were very careful and only spent on the essentials. We would still need a second income source for the family if we want to continue living as we are." I smoothed the paper down on the table and pressed my fist against it, leaning in closer. My voice was quiet, though I heard the anger and condemnation leaking through it. "This is not the solution you think it is, Emyl. But anything to get out of stepping up in life, right?"

"It would be enough for Rhyon and me."

I reeled back, and the leash on my anger snapped. "Damn me to the Beyond then? Your sister who cared for both of you from the moment you were born. I mean nothing, and you would turn me out to die just to ensure you both survived?" I spread my arms wide, stepping back from the table. "Who will provide for you when I work myself to death, then? When I starve because the Coward Prince will not feed me?"

"Don't talk to him like that!" Rhyon screamed, pushing his plate away. "This is your fault!"

I blinked at him, red clearing from my vision only slightly. There was no way for me to say the words I wanted to. He wouldn't understand them anyway. He was on Emyl's side, and nothing I said would ever sway him.

My gaze flicked back to Emyl. "You realize that if I take this job, I would be sequestered in the castle forever. You would never see me again unless the blood plague is cured. Who would cook for you? Who would clean the house? Do you even know where to go to get food or clothing? What happens if one of you falls ill? You have never had to be responsible for yourself, Emyl, let alone for another human being. Can you care for Rhyon? Truly, do you suddenly believe yourself capable?"

"We'll hire someone." The words were hissed through his teeth.

I laughed, a harsh and broken sound devoid of any humor. There was nothing funny about this situation. Nothing amusing about what he was suggesting and failing to realize. "With what money?" I pointed down at the paper beneath my hand. "Even if I were able to send you every penny of this wage, even if the Coward Prince deigns to take on all my own expenses, it would barely be enough to feed the two of you and keep the house. How, then, could you afford to pay for a housekeeper? Do you even understand how much that would cost? Do you know where to go to find someone for the job?"

Emyl surged to his feet, leaning on his fists on the table now as well, his face close to mine and his lip curling up in a snarl. "I am trying to find a solution, Odyssa."

And with that, the mask holding back my anger shattered completely. My anger was explosive, but my rage was quiet. "I told you the solution last night, Emyl. We both contribute to raising Rhyon. We. Both. Work." I poked a finger at his chest. "This is you being selfish, you not wanting to lift a finger, yet again. Mother spoiled you in her life, but we cannot afford for you to continue to spoil yourself in her death."

I heard the sound of skin on skin before I'd even registered the feel of his palm against my cheek. My hand flew up to the stinging skin to press hard against it. Emyl leaned in closer, his breath fanning against the back of my hand. "You will?—"

I raised my gaze to his, letting the pitiful remains of my mask crumble into dust, so that all my emotions were laid bare for him to see. His eyes widened. They'd never seen my true anger before—I'd always been able to hide it behind my walls. The walls he'd just shattered when he struck me. "Think carefully about what you're about to say, brother. You cannot take it back once you do."

Rhyon made a small noise, almost like a cough he'd been trying to muffle. It grew into a small whimper that drew both of our eyes away from each other and to him. Coughing had once been a sound that faded into the background, our minds never truly registering it. But now, I heard it above all else. Emyl and I both stared at each other a moment. I broke first, turning to Rhyon and kneeling in front of his chair, ignoring how he recoiled from me. "Rhyon, was that a cough? Please be honest."

He shook his head quickly. Too quickly.

"He is fine." Emyl's voice was like stone. His eyes burned into the back of my head. "And you will go."

"Will I?" I kept my eyes on Rhyon for a moment longer, searching for any other signs he was falling ill, watching as he wriggled in his chair and looked everywhere but at me. Finally, I stood and met Emyl, lowering my voice to a whisper, a hush of words across his face, too soft for Rhyon to hear. "Would you risk yourself to care for Rhyon as he dies?"

Emyl's face contorted in pain.

"I thought not."

"He is fine."

"Will you risk that?"

"I will take care of him. If you want to take care of him, this is how you do it. You'd be taken care of at the castle, and your paycheck can come back here to us," Emyl said. "Between that and the inheritance, we will make do without you."

Silence filled the kitchen, the kind that made you itch and squirm and spill your secrets just to fill it. I bit my tongue.

Rhyon let out another soft cough and I let my eyes slide closed. He was sick. If not already, he would be soon. The rumors of the treatment inside the castle came back to the forefront of my mind. I would do anything to keep Rhyon alive, to keep Emyl alive, regardless of what they thought of me. I would not disappoint my mother.

"Mother told you to protect us?" Emyl's voice had lost all the violence of before. He pointed at the paper. "This is how."

"If I leave this house, you will both die. If not from the blood plague, then by starvation at the hands of your own arrogance."

"Then so be it. Even Death did not want you, Odyssa. Why should we?"

I would not let them see me fall apart, would not let them see the shards they'd just shattered my heart into. Pulling on every ounce of willpower in my bones, I carefully pulled my mask back into place, settling into that empty place in my heart that was filled with indifference. My face neutral, forehead smooth and lips straight, jaw relaxed, shoulders down, hands loose.

"Very well then." Despite what my mother believed, I did know when my rage had no place, and this was one of them. Anger would not change Emyl's mind, or Rhyon's heart. If anything, it would only harden them more.

Moving into the hallway, I pulled my cloak from the hook beside the door and fastened it at my throat. I stepped into my shoes, bending down to lace them tightly. There was nothing else to do now but go. Without a backwards glance or a goodbye, I stepped out of the house and pulled the door closed.

My hand faltered on the handle as another cough echoed through the last sliver of space between the door and the frame. And then the door clicked shut, cutting off the sound completely.

I froze on the front stoop, my feet unwilling to move forward. I almost wavered in my decision to leave. Almost.

But if they were unwilling to listen, I would do whatever I could to help them. The pay would be better than nothing, and if the rumors of a treatment were true, I would find it and I would get it back to Rhyon before it was too late.

The cough began again, louder this time. So loud I could hear it through the door. The only solace I took was that the cough was still dry. It meant there was a chance this was not the plague, that perhaps it was a normal sickness brought in by the autumnal dampness.

My mother's plea in my mind, I vowed I would discover the truth of a treatment. Even if they were not sick now, it was only a matter of time, truly. And I would not take any risks. My plan solidified. Secure the job, infiltrate the castle, discover the treatment, get it to Emyl and Rhyon. And try to keep us all alive in the meantime.

I let my feet lead me into town, my mind still back at our front door, listening to the sound of that cough.