The Lionhart Bargain
1041 Words
Serina:
Izabeth did not speak until we were far from Eloise’s room.
She walked fast, her skirts brushing the floor like a blade skimming stone. I followed because I had to, not because I wanted to. Halfway down the hall she opened a door to a small study… quiet, cold, the windows shuttered.
“Inside,” she said.
I stepped in. She shut the door behind us. The lock clicked.
Her whole face changed.
The softness she had shown Eloise vanished like it was never real.
She folded her hands in front of her, posture perfect, expression empty in a way that made my stomach clench.
“Serina Vaelis,” she said, like stating a fact on a list. “You have a brother.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Yes.”
“How old?”
“Eleven,” I said. “Reon is eleven.”
She nodded once, calculating something behind her eyes.
“Good. Then you understand what is at stake.”
I tried to swallow. “Understand what?”
“That you will go in Eloise’s place tonight.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“You heard me,” she said. “You will wear the dress. You will follow the priests. You will kneel at the altar. My daughter will not.”
A cold, sharp pain spread up my spine.
“You can’t do that,” I whispered.
“I can,” she said. “And I will.”
Her voice didn’t shake. That terrified me more than shouting ever could.
“I won’t go,” I said.
Izabeth stepped closer. One step. Then another. She stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the rosewater on her sleeves.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “You will.”
“No.”
“Serina,” she said, “if you refuse, your brother won’t make it through the week.”
Air punched out of my lungs.
I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep myself from sliding to the floor.
“I haven’t done anything,” I said. “Reon hasn’t…”
“You don’t have to do anything,” she said. “Boys disappear in Emberfall District all the time. Debt collectors, guards, men with empty pockets and hungry hands…one whisper is all it takes. One name. One mistake at the wrong hour.”
My hands shook. My vision blurred at the edges.
She kept going, calm as someone discussing a dinner menu.
“I can protect him. Feed him. House him. Give him a bed, tutors, a future. Or…” she lifted her eyes to mine, “I can let the streets decide what he becomes.”
“You’re threatening a child,” I said.
“I’m protecting mine,” she answered. “And offering you a bargain.”
“This isn’t a bargain.”
“It’s the only choice you have.” She tilted her head slightly. “People like you don’t get others.”
“Why me?” I whispered.
“Because you work in my house,” Izabeth said simply. “Because no one will question it. Because the Offering wears a veil and the priests from the High Order do not know what she looks like. They never do. The chosen girls are kept ‘pure’ and hidden from the public eye, you know that.” She lifted her chin. “You step into her place and none of them will know the difference.”
My head spun.
“Serina,” Izabeth said sharply. “Look at me.”
I did.
“If you go,” she said, “Reon lives. Not in the slums. Not under a leaking roof. He will live in my west wing. He will wear clean clothes. He will read. He will sleep in a real bed. He will have more than you can ever give him.”
My throat burned. “And if I say no?”
Izabeth’s face didn’t change. Not even a flicker.
“Then he suffers.”
I felt sick. My hands were numb. All the air in the tiny room was gone.
“You don’t care who I am,” I said. “You don’t care if I live or die.”
“I care that my daughter lives,” Izabeth replied. “And I will do whatever it takes to guarantee that.”
For a moment, she looked at me like she was waiting for me to break. I didn’t.
I stood there shaking, barely holding myself together, but I didn’t break.
“Say yes,” she said. “And your brother will be placed under Lionhart protection. He will have a life. A real one.”
I closed my eyes.
I saw Reon sleeping on the thin mattress this morning.
I saw his tired smile.
His hungry ribs.
His bare feet on cold floors.
It didn’t matter if I said yes or no…Either way, I didn’t win. But he could.
My voice came out small and wrong.
“Yes.”
Izabeth exhaled softly. It wasn’t relief. It was satisfaction.
“Good,” she said. “Follow me.”
She unlocked the door and stepped into the hall. I followed, feeling like my feet weren’t touching the floors.
Izabeth walked ahead of me, already calling for servants, already issuing orders. I followed for a few steps before the weight in my chest became unbearable.
“My lady,” I said. My voice sounded far away. “Please.”
She turned, irritation flickering briefly across her face. “What now?”
“Please allow me to see my brother one last time,” I said, my throat closing up, “Just once.”
She studied me, eyes narrowing, calculating. Then she nodded once. “Ten minutes. Not more.”
I didn’t wait for her to change her mind.
I left the manor the way servants did, through narrow halls and side doors meant to keep people like me unseen. A guard followed a few paces behind me on Izabeth's order, like she suspected I'd run away. I couldn't, even if I wanted to.
The streets outside were already filling, red cloth fluttering from doorways, incense thick in the air.
I ran.
- Writer
