Page 98

She paused, and in that silence, Gideon heard all the things she wasn’t saying. His hands clenched into fists.

“I don’t think it was a wanted encounter on her part,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I remember her becoming withdrawn and sad during that time. She would cry when she thought I wasn’t looking… But she got better. She had to. For us. She was a strong woman.”

“What happened to her? Where is she now?” he asked.

“She contracted an illness from one of her patients. Some sailor who’d come back from the eastern ports with a fever that wouldn’t break.” Leila’s voice was even now, resigned, as if she’d told this story so many times that it had lost the power to hurt her. “She died from the fever.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t see her go. She didn’t let us look after her because she was afraid we would catch the illness too. She locked herself in her room and told us to stay with the neighbor, no matter what we heard. Some healer I am,” she added bitterly.

“You were a child,” Gideon said firmly, wishing he could take away her pain and guilt. But she didn’t acknowledge his words; she didn’t even seem to hear them.

Christ, Gideon thought, his stomach churning with a mix of rage and sickness. Her backstory was already heartbreaking, and she hadn’t even reached the worst part yet.

“We stayed with a neighbor after that. She was a lovely woman.” But her voice held a lilt of doubt when she said it. “At least, I thought she was at the time.”

She fell silent, her fingers working at that loose thread again, pulling at it until Gideon feared it might unravel the entire seam.

“It was while we lived with her that two men came into our shop—my shop, I suppose, since I was the owner at fourteen.” The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. “They came a few times, asking strange questions. I don’t remember exactly what, but they made my skin crawl. There was something wrong about them. I could feel it.”

Gideon’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. He could picture those men—large, strong, terrifying—watching a young girl with no protection, no family to defend her.

“Then one evening, this woman—the neighbor we lived with—simply handed us over to them.” Leila’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Just like that. She urged me to go with them, saying they had an important job for me, that I would be rich and able to take care of Emir properly.”

She grimaced, the expression twisting her features.

“I trusted her. And to this day, I still don’t know if she genuinely believed we were walking into a better life or if she sold us to them for silver.”

Rage rose in Gideon’s chest, hot and consuming. His vision actually went red around the edges, and for a moment, he fantasized about finding that woman and making her pay for what she’d done to two helpless children.

Breathe, he told himself. Getting angry won’t help Leila now.

She was so calm, so matter-of-fact when retelling the story. It was clear she’d practiced this detachment, learning to recite the events without reliving them. The control she displayed was both admirable and heartbreaking in equal measure.

Gideon didn’t want to upset her with his emotions—not now, when they needed clear heads. But inside, he was burning with the need for vengeance on her behalf.

“Was the Cardinal one of those men?” he asked, his voice careful and controlled.

“No.” Her answer was instant and sure. “I don’t know who those men were. But they took us on a ship and locked us in a tiny cabin that was barely big enough for both of us to lie down.”

She shook her head, her eyes growing distant and dark.

“You can guess what happened next. I won’t tell you the details.”

Thank God, Gideon thought, because he wasn’t sure he could hear them without losing what little composure he had left.

“But after a few days, the entire ship’s crew fell ill—some kind of plague from the ports they’d visited. I was the only one looking after them—me and what little I’d learned from watching my mother work.”

Her voice took on a different quality now, revealing the strength that had carried her through those dark days.

“I knew my herbs, I knew how to care for the sick, and I negotiated with them. They wouldn’t hurt my brother if I was useful to them—if I could keep them alive when everyone else was dying.”

Smart girl.

“That worked for a while, but either they got bored of us or they needed money. After a few months, we changed ships. Then again. And again.” She trailed off, but not before he caught the slight hitch in her breathing.

“I had to find ways to be useful in order to survive. Sometimes as a healer, other times…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to.

Gideon felt sick for her, horrified at the thought of what a young girl would have had to endure to keep herself and her brother alive in that world. The images flashing through his mind made him want to hit something, to break something with his bare hands.

A little girl bearing the enormous responsibility of protecting her baby brother, with no way to safeguard herself except by making herself indispensable. To give them what they wanted so they wouldn’t take what she couldn’t afford to lose.