“I’ve kept the money.”
“Really? I thought you were so concerned about how you could spend it and whether the Archers could track it. Which they can’t, by the way. If you’d have paid any attention to Father, you’d have known they don’t have any way of tracking the coin we bring in.”
“I paid attention to Father. You should have too. Had he not done what he’d been doing, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Mother wouldn’t be the way she is. You wouldn’t have to join your gang or whatever you call it and risk your future. We could be a family.” She said the last softly, lowering her gaze.
“I’m making my future, not risking it.”
“There’s no way to honor by stealing, Finn.”
He chuckled. “You chastise me about honor, but you’re hoarding all the coin I bring in? Had you told me, I would have placed the coin in your room. That way, it’d be easier for you to pile wherever you keep your hoard.” He pulled the basin off the stove and began to stack the dishes into it. The water was hot—almost too hot. He’d left it sitting on the stove for longer than he’d intended. “You’re like a dragon sitting over your precious gold, keeping it from others all while telling them the evils of greed.”
“Stop.”
She barely had any energy in her voice.
“If you need more, you can have it.” He pulled the rest of the coins from his pocket as irritation flashed within him. What did these coins matter when it was a relatively simple thing for him to get more? Find a crowd, work his way through them, and take a few coins here and there. It was never that much, certainly not as much as he wished that he could get at one time, but a few coins spent just fine, regardless of what his sister might claim.
Finn slammed the coins on the counter. Lena didn’t flinch.
“How much more do you need to make your pile high enough? Would you like to sleep on it, or is there something more you want to hoard it for?”
“It’s for Mother,” she whispered. “I’m saving it to pay for a physician.”
The words hung in the air.
Finn’s stomach sank.
I’m an ass.
Here he’d taunted her, and it wasn’t about her at all. Of course it wouldn’t be. Not Lena. She always cared. Sometimes too much. It was why he couldn’t believe she’d work for a butcher.
“Why wouldn’t you just say that?” he asked, looking at his hands.
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
She dropped down to her knees and started to sweep the coins that he’d slammed onto the counter into a pile.
Finn joined her trying to help, but she only swatted his hands away.
“Let me help,” he said.
“You’ve done enough.”
“Listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were saving for a physician.”
Lena sat back and rested her hands on her lap, twisting the fabric. “The apothecary can’t do much. Oh, they try. They’ve offered a few different compounds the last times, but nothing has made a difference.” She looked up at him. “I know you wanted to work with them—”
“I never wanted that.”
Lena held his gaze. “I know you, Finn Jagger, even if you want to pretend I don’t. I know what you really wanted were you to have the choice.”
He swallowed, looking to where he’d slammed the coins down. Were he to have the choice. Finn wouldn’t be a thief; that much was true. He’d want to be honorable, but he didn’t know how he would have gone about it. There had never been a choice.
“You could try a different apothecary,” Finn said.
“I have. They’re all the same.”
Guild, she didn’t add. Which meant their training would be similar.
“How much do you need for a physician?”
Finn couldn’t imagine how much it would cost but suspected it would be pricey. Not only were there few physicians within the city, but they would often require a certain amount before they’d even start attempting to heal.
“More than my dragon’s hoard,” she said, getting to her feet. She made her way to the door and paused. “I don’t like what you’re doing, but I’m not throwing away the coins you’re bringing to us, either, if that’s what you think. What kind of a fool do you take me for?”
She looked at him a moment longer before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Finn staring after her.
He was the fool, not her. The fool who thought she was too good for his ill-gained money. His sister deserved better from him. Gods—his mother deserved better from him.
There might be something that he could do. The King didn’t always pay that well, especially not at his position, but if Finn could take the right job, he might be able to help his mother. And Lena. She didn’t need to work at the butcher. That wasn’t the kind of job for someone like her. It might be honorable, but what was honor when it paid shit? His sister deserved better for everything she did. And Finn was going to get it for her.
Getting to his feet, he started scrubbing the dishes in the basin. Earn enough—or steal enough—to help their mother. That would help Lena. His family.
Which was what he had to do. He owed her more than a few coins and clean dishes.
Chapter Three
The Wenderwolf tavern was situated at the edge of the Olin section of the city, far enough away from the stench in the outer sections that those who frequented it could almost imagine they were part of a different class, never mind what they had to trudge through to reach the tavern or the kind of people who frequented it. None of that mattered. All that did was the perception, along with the belief those who came had of themselves.
The Wenderwolf had a charm of sorts, though mostly that came from the people who were there. His sister wouldn’t understand that. They might not be honorable in the way she preferred, but he’d found a different sort of honor.
Taking a seat in a corner booth near the door, he looked across the table at Oscar, putting thoughts of the conversation he’d had with Lena out of his mind for now. The older man leaned back in his seat, sipping at his ale, barely looking up through half-open eyes.
“You got away,” Oscar said.
“No thanks to you.”
“Not all of us need to go storming through the streets. Not that you would know anything about subtlety. I thought I’d been teaching you better than that.”
“You have.”
“Hmm.” Oscar took a long drink before setting the mug back down again. “How far did the Archer chase you through the city?”
“I lost him in the alley.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I lost him near the Blood Court. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is between you almost getting caught and you getting away cleanly. How sure are you that he didn’t get a good look at you?”
“I can run pretty fast when I need to.”
“You ran?”
Finn looked up as the tavern's proprietor, Annie, sauntered over, showing the kind of cleavage he would have preferred to have seen from Helda—though with Helda, there was the promise of something more. That made it intriguing. Annie was older and with streaks of gray in her chestnut hair, and had a slip of ribbon tying her hair back while trying to look like a younger woman.