Sera looked towards her mother for direction now that the rule had been broken, not daring to speak, not daring to move, even though there was still glass on the floor that her mother had missed.
‘We don’t need you,’ her mother said, standing up and then looking away. ‘Go home.’
Home where?
‘My neighbour’s girl,’ her mother told the visitor. ‘She cleans here.’
‘Then you’d best let her do it.’
‘I can do it.’ Her mother stared coldly at the other woman before turning back to Sera. ‘Go. Come back tomorrow.’
‘Wait,’ said the visitor, and Sera stood, torn, while the visitor came closer and put a gentle hand to Sera’s face and turned it towards the light. ‘She’s yours.’
‘No, I—’
‘Don’t lie. She’s yours.’
Her mother said nothing.
‘You broke the rules,’ the older woman said.
Sera whispered, ‘I’m sorry…’
At the same time her mother said, ‘I fell in love.’
And then her mother laughed harshly and it turned into a sob, and the older woman straightened and turned towards the sound.
‘You didn’t have to leave,’ the older woman said gently. ‘There are ways—’
‘No.’
‘You’re one of us. We would have taken care of you.’
Her mother shook her head. No and no. ‘Ended us both.’
‘Hidden you both,’ said the older woman. ‘Do you really think you’re the first courtesan to ever fall in love and beget a child?’
Sera bent to the task of picking up glass shards from the floor, trying to make herself as small as she could, trying to make them forget she was there so she could hear them talk more, never mind that she didn’t understand what half the words meant.
‘How did you find us?’ her mother asked.
‘Serendipity.’ Another word Sera didn’t know. ‘I was passing through the town and stopped at the bakery for a sourdough loaf,’ the older woman said with a faint smile. ‘Mainly because in all the world there’s none as good as the ones they make there. The baker’s boy remembered me. He’s the baker now, as I expect you know, and he mentioned you. We talked. I mean you no harm. I want to help.’
‘You can’t. I’m beyond help now.’
‘Then let me help your daughter.’
‘How? By training her to serve and love others and never ask for anything in return? I will never choose that life for my daughter.’
‘You liked it well enough once.’
‘I was a fool.’
‘And are you still a fool? What do you think will happen to the child once you poison your body with drink and starve yourself to death? Who will care for her, put a roof over her head and food in her mouth, educate her and give her a sense of self-worth?’
Mama looked close to crying. ‘Not you.’
‘I don’t see many choices left to you.’ The woman glanced around the room. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, you’ve already sold everything of value. Any jewellery left?’
‘No.’ Sera could hardly hear her mother’s answer.
‘Does the house belong to you?’
‘No.’
‘How long have you been ill?’
‘A year. Maybe more. I’m not—it’s not—catching. It’s cancer.’
The older woman bowed her head. ‘And how much longer do you think you can last, selling your favours to the lowest bidder? How long before he looks towards the girl and wants her instead of you? Yuna, please. I can give you a home again. Treatment if there’s treatment to be had. Comfort and clothing befitting your status and hers. Complete discretion when it comes to whose child she is—don’t think I don’t know.’
‘He won’t want her.’
‘You’re right, he won’t. But I do. The Order of the Kite will always look after its own. From the fiercest hawk to the fallen sparrow. How can you not know this?’
A tear slipped beneath her mother’s closed lashes. ‘I thought I’d be better off away from it all. For a while it was good. It can be good again.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ The older woman crossed to her mother and took hold of her hands. ‘Let me help you.’
‘Promise me she won’t be trained as a courtesan,’ her mother begged. ‘Lianthe, please.’
‘I promise to give her the same choice I gave you.’
‘You’ll dazzle her.’
‘You’ll counter that.’ The older woman drew Sera’s mother towards the couch, not letting go of her hands, even after they were both seated. Sera edged closer, scared of letting the hem of the woman’s gown get in the puddle of wine on the floor, and loving the sweet, clean smell that surrounded her. The woman smiled. ‘Leave it, child. Come, let me look at you.’
Sera withstood the other woman’s gaze for as long as she could. Stand tall, chin up, don’t fidget. Her mother’s words ringing in her mind. No need to look like a street urchin.
Fidget, fidget, beneath the woman’s quiet gaze.
‘My name’s Lianthe,’ the woman said finally. ‘And I want you and your mother to come to my home in the mountains so that I can take care of you both until your mother is well again. Would you like that?’
‘Would there be visitors for Mama?’
‘What kind of visitors?’
‘The man.’
Her mother and the lady shared a long glance.
‘He would not visit. I would be taking you too far away for that.’
‘Would there be wine for her?’ Because wine was important. ‘Wine’s like medicine.’
‘Then there will be wine until we find better medicine. Tell me, child, are you hungry?’
So, so hungry but she’d learned long ago that sometimes it was better to say nothing than to give the wrong answer. Her stomach grumbled the answer for her anyway.
‘When
