The Duke paid good money, as usual, but it still did little to help my mood. I was still sour by the time I made it back to Luiza's house. I tried to remind myself that Lacy is inside; that she's happy, that she trusts me enough to have agreed to leave our mother with little argument.

She's here with me, and I know she'll be in good hands when I start work at the castle. I keep telling myself that as I knock on Luiza's front door. Luiza had offered to make me a key, but I didn't see the point since I'd be leaving for the castle tomorrow.

In less than a minute, I hear the familiar gait of her heeled shoes as they approach the door. It opens on a rustic hinge, carrying the delicate smell of her elderberry perfume.

I give an exhausted smile as I meet her steel-grey eyes. Honed and sharp as any blade, they reflect her spirit of loyalty and strength. It was one of the first things that made me begin to question my mother's demeanor.

"Oh, there you are." She sighs as her arms wrap around my shoulders. I rest my chin on her shoulder as the skirt of her dress brushes my ankles. She pulls away and clicks her tongue in irk. "What took you so long?"

"I stopped in the marketplace to get some paint for Lacy." The truth. Duke had given me more than enough money to buy Lacy some a set of paints – and at a discount.

Luiza pouts despite her lips turning upwards. "And I suppose you expect me to just be okay when she uses my walls as a canvas?"

"You'd keep it. Admit it." I say with a sly smile.

Lacy loved to paint and draw. I'd buy her only primary colors – the frugal habit developed from my mother's reckless spending – but she'd managed to nearly paint the whole house. Especially the bedroom we shared; simple but bright flowers and sceneries stretched along our room, Lacy getting especially creative by incorporating musical notes when she got to my section. Staffs that twined with vines and the base of the notes replaced with flower petals, that would soon turn into a mountain stream. Though her strokes and colors were simplistic, it would've been amazing if she were an adolescent and honed her skills. A part of me hoped that she did, one day.

Luiza's answering smile is enough. "Oh, enough from you. Come inside."

The sunlight reflects the black threads of her dress navy as she turns to head inside. Her hair is twisted and bound about the crown of her head, as it always is. Her dress whispers against the floor as I follow her into the entryway.

Luiza continues down the hall to the right as I dump my bow and quiver into an armchair, along with the new satchel I'd also bought from Duke, before removing my jacket and hanging it on the rack by the door. I'd gone back to the house after trading with The Duke, not wanting my bow and arrows with my mother.

Sure, a small part of me did care for her safety, and the weapons would be useless for me once I start work at the castle, but I didn't want them there because they were mine. I didn't want a single scrap of myself left in that house.

I still keep my handgun on me, if only out of habit.

I fish out the coin and grab paints before I follow Luiza. Duke was nice enough to put them in a little wicker basket with a pink bow. I hum as I already smell the luring aroma of baked bread and chicken stew. Lacy's pitched voice pipes through the curtain hanging in front of the threshold, and the husband's laughter follows quickly after.

Once I step inside, Lacy's attention draws to me immediately. She carries whatever doll she is playing with and runs over to me, her voice bouncing with my name as she opens her arms. "Erika!"

I open my own arms wide, enveloping her whole and lifting her from the floor. I try to ignore the dried blood on me, Duke giving me a wet washcloth to wipe my hands. My shirt, however, had been a lost cause. I adjust my hold on her so she's resting against my shoulder, folding my shirt so she doesn't feel the crusted stains. "Hey Bumblebee. What are you up to?"

"I'm showing them my new doll! Luiza let me pick it out."

Indeed, she shoves a corn husk doll dressed in a gown of royal blue into my face. The painted hair is golden brown, wrapped neatly atop her head, her cheeks bearing circles of rouge, and eyes of emerald green.

"Pretty." I drawl as I lower her with a kiss on her chubby cheek. "Hey, I've got something for you."

Her eyes of aquamarine widen, her delicate lashes fluttering as I pull forward the basket of paints. Lacy gasps, revealing her little, gaped teeth.

"For me?!" she squeaks, and it's like a bolt of lightning just struck me.

"For you." I say with a wide smile.

She digs her hand into the basket, pulling out the vibrant violet purple. "Wow! Thanks Erika!"

Though she jabs her other hand into the basket, I give her another kiss on her cheek. She takes the basket with two hands and near waddles over to the little worktable Luiza's husband crafted for her. Already it's smeared and chipping with the previous wax of crayons and paints. The sunlight shines along her gilded dandelion hair, her aquamarine eyes as clear as a shallow pool.

Such vibrance; so lively compared to my dulled hair, though the teal color of my own eyes seems to have held some form of radiance.

If Lacy is a blooming flower in this dank old village, then I . . . I am a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood.

My little sister moves back to her playing without another word, but Luiza's husband stares at me. I spare a half smile as his eyebrows lift. "How'd it go?" he asks rather quietly. Lacy is already wrapped up in her paint mixing.

"As you'd expect." I sigh as my shirt relaxes, exposing the blood of the doe.

His eyes dip to the dirtied fabric, nothing proprietary like the so many men I've seen at our house, but still raises a brow. He says with a gruff laugh, "I hope that's not her blood."

I don't smile. "No."

With that, I turn and follow Luiza into the kitchen. She's chopping some vegetables and onions, the kitchen a swell of mouth-watering smells of the chicken stew, garlic, onions, lemons, and a hint of spice.

She looks over her shoulder at my approach, sparing a smile as she gathers the minced onion with the knife, plopping it into the large pot brewing in the corner of the stove.

"Hey," I say, and she pauses, wiping her hands on a towel. I bring forward the coin purse, filled with what I know must be primary silver, perhaps even a few bits of gold. Without waiting, I grab her wrist and place is in her hand. "Here."

"What is this?"

"It's for Lacy."

A disproving click of her tongue. "Erika, we have your father's insurance –"

"Which I'd prefer if you'd use it for emergencies only. If Lacy needs medical attention or there's a cold front."

I don't know if I have the right to tell them how to use my father's money; especially if I'm leaving for Mother know how long. But I just know in my gut they shouldn't touch my father's money unless absolutely necessary. I've thought time and again about how I would have to divide up my payment – what to put into savings and what to send to Luiza to help take care of Lacy.

Even if Luiza and her husband have their own savings secured, even if they can live off of my father's money for years in the worst of times, I will earn my keep here. In this . . . new family.

Luiza's head tilts to the side, contemplative and observing. "Erika, you know we have enough money. This is unnecessary."

"I'm earning our keep here."

"We're not even charging you for living here, sweetie. Stop this ridiculousness and take this back." She pushes her hand towards me, rattling the coins within. For a moment, I debate on taking it, but I'll be provided food and clothes and a bed in the castle. I don't need anything else. Besides, what could I spend on while in the castle? I don't even know the freedoms the servants have in those walls.

I take a step back, leaning a hip against the counter. "Keep it. I'll send some more out once I know what my pay is."

Luiza tilts her head. "You could just work here if you're so bent on 'earning your keep.' You've worked with us before, and you loved it."

"That was before I was living under your roof, taking advantage of –"

"You are not taking advantage of anything, Erika." Luiza interjects, taking my hand in hers. "You are welcome here, you always have been. Why can't you just relax, and let us take care of you?"

I can't tell her about the last time I'd let my guard down. The last time I tried to be sympathetic and understanding and accepting, and it ended with me trembling in a torn dress and blood on my hands, in my mouth. But I can at least let her see it in my eyes.

Luiza's own darken, and she rubs the back of my hand. "You were dealt an unfair hand, Erika. And you've done wonderfully for yourself and Lacy. But you are safe here."

"I don't doubt that Luiza, but I refuse to be another worthless mouth to feed."

"Erika –"

"Please, just take it. And even if you don't need it for Luiza, use it to spoil her, or something. Put it towards an education."

I'd barely finished secondary school with having to take on the responsibility of caring for my family. My grades were barely average since my mind was occupied with wondering if I'd caught anything in my snare traps, and what I was going to do if they didn't. Hardly a social life for the same reason; I couldn't risk staying late for anything with fear of some animal claiming my catch. Not that anyone bothered to talk to me besides Elena and her father Leonardo.

Luiza takes the coin purse and places it on the counter before wrapping me in a hug. Within it are all the words she doesn't need to say – or perhaps refuses to say – out loud. She's tried convincing my multiple times not to go to the castle, tried to tell me there are other ways. But since I recognize most of the men whom my mother as fucked, and some of the wives whose lives were ruined, the village in its near entirety doesn't feel safe, not anymore.

I hug her back, eyes stinging at the warmth and kindness I'll be leaving behind once I pass through those black iron gates.

Even if I were to work for a family where the husband won't look at me with intentions, or the wife with caution, I'll always be known as that young woman with the sullied mother. Always be judged and scarred with the thoughts and glances and wonder that I might take after her, what I would do for money if it meant feeding my little sister. The thought occurred to me too, which is why I made it dire to perfect my hunting.

Sometimes I wondered if there was something wrong with me; why I wasn't so distraught as my mother after my father passed; why I didn't console her before she started her drinking. It's buzzed around my mind for years, and as I got older – and through the teachings of our church and Luiza herself – I learned that grief is dealt with in different ways.

Unfortunately, it didn't aid my forgiveness of my mother – in fact, it only made me rage further that she didn't climb out of the pit of despair herself. How she was too weak and pathetic to make it past that phase and to move on for the better sake of her children. Instead, she buried herself further and chose an easier way out through haze and release than to stand and accept the new reality and fight for me and Lacy.

Maybe there was more I could've done for her, but I was barely a scrap of existence when I wasn't helping her find the next bottle.

Luiza finally pulls away, taking a deep breath before saying, "Make sure you write. Lacy will want to hear from you."

Not just because she'd want to hear how I was fairing. But I nod. "I know, and I will."

Father told me to watch over the family, and while my heart aches at the thought of leaving Lacy, this is what's best. It has to be. Not to mention I'm leaving her in capable hands. Lacy has been very accepting of my work at the castle. Whether it was the work of my father's last words to her, or because she understood this world deeper than any child should, but she didn't argue.

Luiza smiles, tickling my chin before she turns her attention back to the stew. "Before I forget, Elena wanted to stop by before you left."

"Is she coming for dinner tonight?"

"She said she would try to, if not I'm sure she'll drop by tomorrow."

I shrug, giving Luiza another hug and a peck on her cheeks before I turn to leave the kitchen. Only to find Lacy standing in the doorway with her doll clutched to her chest.

"Lacy?" Behind me I hear Luiza turn.

Lacy studies me, those blue-green eyes too alert, too aware. In a quiet voice, she asks, "You're leaving tomorrow?"

I've tried to prepare myself for this looming conversation. For Lacy's protest against my working at the castle. Many times, have I rehearsed it in my head, trying to hold back tears and keep my shoulders square; preparing for the moment I have to look my sister in the eye and tell her that I'm leaving her. Even if it's supposed to be for the better, for our future.

So I lift my chin as I kneel down in front of her. Luiza goes about pulling the bread from the oven, and dishes from the cabinets. "I am, Lacy. And I'm going to be gone for a while, you know that."

She gives a slow nod. "I know."

Her silence makes me press further. "It's not going to be easy for me, leaving you here. But I need to make money."

"What about Daddy's money?"

I take her chin just as Luiza did mine. "Dad left that for us to use for emergencies only. We can't afford to spend it after mom –"

I make myself stop. Lacy's delicate brows lift, her eyes widening slightly.

"Mom took a lot she wasn't supposed to. I know." She mutters. "What about around here?"

I adjust myself to sit on the floor, realizing this is conversation is going to happen here. At least I have Luiza to help me. "The castle will pay me more. And the more I make, the quicker I'll come home."

A half-truth. I can only hope and assume that the Mistress will pay me a considerable amount since she lives in the village castle, but that all depends on where I start, and how fast I can get myself promoted.

"You'll be careful?"

I smile. "Always."

Lacy manages to smile, even a huff of a laugh through her nose before she steps into my arms, resting her head on my shoulder.

She then mumbles, "We're a broken family, aren't we?"

It startles me enough that I pull her back with furrowed brows. "What? Where did that come from?"

Her fingers trace over the engravings of curls on the doll's head. "I know you don't like mom and the things she does, but she's still our mom." My heart aches as I hear her sniff, and for a moment, the room goes quiet as tears stream down her pale cheeks. The whole world slows. "And we have to keep this family together while we still have her."

Her voice cracks into a whimper and it's all I can do to keep my hands on her arms, my thumbs stroking her shoulders.

My voice is like gravel. "Mom made her choice, Lacy, and it wasn't us. But you're free to visit her as you please, with proper company."

Still her little tears fall, my heart cracking. I've been so wrapped up in trying to provide such necessities for her that I'd neglected my role as her sister rather than her guardian. I'd been so enveloped on how my mother's behavior would affect her that I didn't even think about how I would affect her as well.

"I like you better as a sister than a mom. I hate seeing you leave, and I don't know when you're coming back. I want us to do sister things together, like we're supposed to."

I drop my hands, my head sinking at the weight of my sister's pain. "I'm sorry Lacy. But with Dad gone and mom . . ." I shake my head, "I wanted to make sure you were taken care of."

"I know," she mumbles. "I just . . . I miss you. As a sister."

I gather her in my arms again, huddling her close as I try to ignore the pain of having to leave her. "Listen, I know I'm going to be gone for a while, but I promise, when I get back, I will yell at you like sisters do, especially on special occasions."

This manages to make her smile, and she hugs me again before stepping out of my lap. I rise to stand, but I don't dare look at Luiza yet. Thankfully she seems to have occupied herself with buttering the bread.

I'd just stood up when thin arms wrap carefully around my waist. As if Lacy knew of the near protruding ribs poking through my shirt that even a month at Luiza's hadn't been able to fill. In my quest to care for her while back at our mother's, I'd given her most of the food I'd catch and buy. Nevermind my own emaciated ribs and gaunt face, so long as she had a fully belly.

"I love you, Erika," she says quietly.

"I love you too." I kiss the top of Lacy's head, the shining slab of her golden hair, and rub my sister's back, feeling the little knobs of her spine, her heartbeat through her skin.

I somehow manage to coax her into heading back into the dining room with a promise of a lullaby and bedtime cuddles without losing my grip on my facial features.

But once Lacy leaves, I barely spare Luiza a glance before I pad towards the bathroom.

I shut the bathroom door and run the sink faucet on full blast.

I mange to close the lid on the toilet, at least, before I slump onto it and cover my face with both hands, breathing hard between my fingers. The room pushes in, and I can't get aid down fast enough, deep enough –

My hand slides to my chest, as if I'd somehow will my lungs to open up. I take gulping mouthfuls of air, hands shaking so badly I lower them to my knees, gripping tight. I'd been foolish to think of my sister as naive and careless. To think that she didn't understand or process what was happening in our world – her world.

It doesn't matter how many animals I catch, how many I sell, how many I cook. None of it could buy us a new mother or bring back our father or remove the trauma I didn't know had already been engraved in my sister's mind.

Sobs threaten, shuddering beneath each breath.

I cover my face again, as if it can hide it – the tears that rise up within my like a tidal wave, that I push back and back and back.

I blow out a breath, tears sinking back into me. Shutting off the faucet, I listen. Luiza has gathered everyone at the table, plates and silverware clinking and clacking.

Worth it.

I tell myself that as I picture my mother – a hollow husk of what she once was; my father – a cold corpse with purple lips and ashen skin; and Lacy – still beaming and alive with joy and whatever slim shred of hope.

Worth it.