The shack seemed to shrink around me, the air thick with the scent of bitter herbs and something darker, iron, maybe, or old blood. Agatha's milky eyes held mine, unblinking.
"Everything?" My voice sounded hollow, even to me.
Hera shifted by the door, her fingers tapping restlessly against the hilt of her knife. She knew what Agatha's bargains meant. We all did.
The old woman leaned forward, her breath warm and sour against my face. "You're a healer with royal blood on your hands now, girl. That makes you dangerous. That makes you valuable." She tapped the blackened vein crawling up my arm. "I'll purge this poison. But in return, you belong to the Bend."
My stomach twisted. Belonging to the Bend meant no more choices. No more freedom. It meant becoming one of Agatha's creatures bound to her, to the shadows, to the dirty work the village needed done.
But the poison was spreading. I could feel it, a slow, creeping numbness curling toward my elbow.
I swallowed hard. "For how long?"
Agatha's grin widened. "Until I say otherwise."
A lifetime, then, i knew the hidden connotations.
Hera's jaw tightened, but she didn't speak. Even she wouldn't cross Agatha.
I closed my eyes. Thought of Mother, of the boy, somewhere safe, I hoped. Thought of the king's smug smile as he played his game with lives like they were pieces on a board.
I couldn't die here. Not yet.
"Do it," I whispered.
Agatha cackled, slapping the table. "Good choice."
Then she grabbed my arm and plunged it into the cauldron.
---
Fire.
That was all I knew.
The liquid seared through my skin, boiling the poison out in thick, black tendrils that curled like smoke above the surface. I screamed, thrashing in severe agony, but Agatha and hera held me fast, their grip unbreakable.
"Hold still, unless you want to lose the arm!"
Tears blurred my vision. The pain was unbearable, like my blood had turned to molten lead, scorching its way through my veins.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Agatha yanked my arm free. The skin was red, blistered, but the blackened vein was gone.
I slumped forward, gasping, my forehead pressed to the rough wood of the table.
Hera's hand landed on my shoulder. "Breathe," she muttered. "It's done."
But it wasn't.
Because now I was theirs.
---
Agatha rummaged through her shelves, humming tunelessly, as if she hadn't just subjected me through the worst kind of pain . She returned with a chipped clay cup filled with something dark and syrupy.
"Drink. It'll dull the pain."
I didn't trust her. But I drank anyway.
The taste was foul, rotten honey and crushed beetles, but warmth spread through my chest almost instantly, softening the edges of the agony in my arm.
Agatha watched me, her head tilted like a bird eyeing a worm. "You're lucky, girl. Most don't survive Lira's tricks."
"Lucky," I echoed, my voice hoarse.
Hera snorted. "Yeah. Real blessed, you are."
Agatha ignored her. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, you work."
"Doing what?"
The old woman's smile was a promise and a threat.
"Whatever I tell you to."
Then she turned and vanished into the shadows of the shack, leaving me with Hera and the weight of what I'd just sold.
Hera exhaled sharply. "Come on", she said, hauling me upright. "You're sleeping at my place tonight. And Sylvia?"
I looked at her.
Her eyes were hard. "Don't try to run. Agatha always collects what's owed."
I didn't answer.
But as I followed her into the damp, stinking night, one thought burned brighter than the pain
I'm getting out of here.
No matter what it cost.