The Kept

The Girl

Don't linger. Don't say any more than necessary. Be polite but firm, kind but not overly familiar.

Nerys kept her father's instructions in mind as apothecary offered her a sympathetic smile. The apothecary had a short, wiry gray hair and kept the lenses of her thick eye-glasses trained on the task of combining a mixture of dried herbs and folding it into a square of paper as she spoke.

"How is the baby?" the older woman asked.

At four, Nerys's brother could hardly be considered a baby any longer, but her family stayed in a small cottage half a day's walk from the village, and their weekly incursions were so brief that the few shop owners with which they had dealings still spoke of him as such.

"It is hard to say," Nerys replied. "Some days are better than other. I believe we will need to find a healer if he doesn't improve soon. Do you know of any shopkeepers who might pay for extra help?"

"I will ask around for you, but chances are none of them will be able to offer you enough gold to cover a healer's fees."

"I don't mind working for more than one shop," Nerys said.

Her trips to the village had become more frequent in the months since her brother had fallen ill. All of which had been for the herbal treatments to manage her brothers sudden seizures. Nerys had spent so much time with the apothecary of late that the owner now felt comfortable enough to say to her,

"Your parents have raised you into a fine young lady. I have a nephew about your age. Handsome lad. When you come next week, perhaps I could introduce you two? I think you would get along splendidly, and such a match might be more beneficial than working yourself to death doing odd jobs for paltry pay."

"I am flattered by your offer, but I do not think your nephew would appreciate the arrangement. I have seen much more attractive girls than myself around the village vying for affections."

"See, this is what I mean. Those girls might have looks, but none are as well-mannered and dignified. You walk and talk like one of those fine ladies you see around Aele. You'll make a good match, and there is none better suited for you here than my Eduard, mark my words."

"Still, I am sure my parents would object. I am only fourteen," Nerys said, trying to tactfully turn down the woman whose preparations were keeping her brother alive.

"Fourteen isn't so young- it's old enough for the Esidiem to start grooming children into future Kept- it won't be long before you are the right age for marriage and childbirth."

"I will speak to my parents about it," Nerys finally relented.

"Smart girl," the wizened woman said, handing Nerys her order as well as an additional packet. "Here, I've added a little something extra for the baby's comfort- no charge."

Mother and father were speaking to each other in hushed tones on the far side of the cottage when Nerys returned home. Errol shivered under a nest of blankets by the fire. Nerys kissed his forehead through the soft brown curls clinging to it in damp rings. He smiled up at her and mumbled something unintelligible before his eyes became vacant and his small body seized and bucked.

"Mama, it's happening again!" she said.

Her parents rushed to her side and eased her brother to the floor. Unlike Nerys, who had taken after their mother, Errol had inherited their father's fair complexion and light brown hair. He had grown so pale and birdlike that his large dark eyes had lost all their mischief and resembled those of a fawn destined never to loose its spots.

"He's getting worse," her father said quietly.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?" Nerys asked.

Her father shook his head. "He needs a healer. We don't have that kind of money."

"I could go to the Esidiem," Nerys suggested, thinking of her conversation with the apothecary. It seemed a better option than the woman's insistence on pairing Nerys with her nephew. "They take apprentices at fourteen, and pay in gold."

"Absolutely not," her mother said sharply.

She gently rocked Errol while violent wet coughs wracked his body and he struggled to breath. Her dark skin glowed in the firelight, and her thick black curls framed her heart-shaped face like scrolled ironwork.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Nerys asked when the coughing subsided. Her question lingered, answered only by Errol's ragged gasps.

"I will not have you risking your life in the arena whenever some high-born moron wishes to play at making war."

"You're not worried about the risk to my life; you're worried about whatever it is that you're hiding," Nerys challenged.

Her mother tensed. "What?"

"I never asked because I was afraid you might get angry, but you are hiding something, aren't you? That's why you won't come to the city with me and Papa, and why we don't talk to anyone in the village. What did you do?" Nerys asked.

"Nerys..." Her mother lay Errol down and looked at her silently for a long time. "You are not going to the Esidiem. Do not speak of it again."

There was a small, quiet shift inside her mind, and Nerys suddenly viewed her reserved mother, who had always carried herself with a commanding grace, as a coward.

"So, you're willing to let your son die to keep your secret?" Nerys said. She did not intend to be so harsh, but the words were already said and she would not allow herself to feel guilty for them.

The slap that followed Nerys's outburst surprised her almost as much as it surprised her mother, who placed her hands over her mouth in shock while the sound of it still rang in the air and raced from the cottage.

Nerys reached up. Her whole face blazed, but she didn't yet register any physical feeling of pain. Her father took her hand away from the welts rising on her cheek.

"You don't understand, my brightness," he said. "Your mother and I love you both more than you could ever imagine. If there is a way to heal Errol, we will find it, but the Esidiem is not the answer. We cannot sacrifice one child to save the other."

"It wouldn't be sacrificing me; at least not for long. I probably wouldn't be good enough to be Kept, and I'd be back home in a few years with a job as a clerk," Nerys argued.

"No." Like her mother, Nerys's father had always exuded a quiet yet powerful confidence. Now, his gray eyes were glossed over with the frustration of a man not accustomed to helplessness in any form. "We will find another way."

"Yes, Papa." Nerys looked away. Neither of them were good liars.

When her mother finally returned, Nerys pretended to be asleep. They were wrong; Errol couldn't wait, and Nerys had a way to get him the help now.

When she was sure everyone was sleeping, she left.