"...In the end, I can't ask her about this." I couldn't help but mutter under my breath.
I had already pointed out the reasons why asking Amelia for funds was a stupid idea.
She would bleed me dry.
Not in coin, but in leverage. In promises. In favors that would weigh more heavily than any gold ever could.
She would smile that sly merchant smile, tilt her head just so, and say something like: 'Of course, Julies, I'll help you. But in exchange…'
And whatever came after those words would be a chain. A chain I'd willingly lock around my own neck.
No. I'd rather starve for opportunities than hand her that kind of control.
"…So, what else is left?"
My pen hovered over the page again. The words scrawled there stared back mockingly: Salary. Robbery. Raid. Connections.
Three crossed out. One dangling uselessly.
But maybe I'd been thinking about this the wrong way.
Why only those? Why force myself into the obvious routes—the ones anyone would think of first?
