Chapter 1

By the time Myron Harman returned as a high-ranking official, his mother, Isabel Harman, had already sold me into the Gregory family as a concubine.

He had been away for three years, and a disaster struck the family in the second year of his absence. The wheat we had planted in the fields yielded no harvest.

Isabel had seen that Myron was always indifferent to me, so she thought he must not have loved me either. She sold me in exchange for five bushels of wheat to stave off hunger.

I had finally managed to live a few peaceful days in Gregory Manor, yet he wanted to buy me back.

*****

"A high-ranking lord comes to the town today. He cuts a mighty figure atop a fine steed. Guess who he is?" Lily Gray, my maid, said.

She had been out all morning buying fine linen spools for me. As soon as she got back, she started chattering nonstop.

"No clue. Someone like me wouldn't know anyone that important." I handed her a cup of water, smiling and shaking my head, not taking it seriously. My hands never stopped sewing the boots.

Floyd Gregory had said a couple days ago that his boots were getting old and wanted a new pair for the upcoming kickball match.

He wouldn't let the maids make them, insisting on wearing a pair made by my own hands. If I was too slow and he didn't get to wear them, he'd accuse me of not caring about him.

"It was Myron!" When Lily mentioned that name, I froze for a moment, and then the needle in my hand fell to the ground.

Myron was my former husband. Three years had passed, and he had finally returned, two years later than he had promised.

I once grew wheat to earn money and saved up enough travel funds to send him to Journ City to seek a royal official position.

I had hoped he'd earn his title and come home soon so we could go on living our quiet little life together.

When he was around, Isabel wasn't so hard on me, and things didn't feel quite so impossible.

But I waited for so long, from spring to winter, and from that winter until the next year when the wheat failed completely. He never returned, though his letters did.

But Isabel was tough as nails. She wouldn't let me read a single word. She would rather walk into the town to ask the old scholar there to read the letters to her than let me know what was written in them.

After she finished listening to the letter, she said to me, "Myron's got enough trouble of his own out there. He can't spare a thought for us back home.

"I am gravely ill now, and the fields yield nothing at all. If I keep you under this roof any longer, we will both starve to death.

"Will you have mercy on me and my old bones?"

I had no idea what she was up to back then. All I could think about was what Myron told me before he left.

He told me to never go against Isabel; her health was too fragile for any upset, and I was supposed to do whatever she wanted.

So I nodded. "Isabel, tell me what you want me to do. I'll do whatever you say."

At noon, Isabel allowed me to eat half a piece of bread. Having drunk thin gruel for many days, I thought that was the best thing I'd ever eaten.

I was so happy that day, thinking to myself that since she had shared her bread with me, I had to work even harder to repay her.

I was already planning to make some oat cakes and sell them in town, or maybe brew some thin ale and hawk it by the roadside.

But before I could even finish soaking the grain or buy the dried malt, I was thrown into a burlap sack, tied up, and hauled off onto a slave trader's oxcart.

Through the burlap sack, Isabel said, "Don't blame me for being so ruthless. You're just a country girl who only knows how to farm. You never really matched up to Myron.

"I've seen how cold he is toward you. He never really cared about you anyway. From now on, you're on your own.

"You're no longer part of the Harman family. Maybe wherever you end up, you'll at least get to eat bread every day."

She made it sound easy. A discarded woman like me, who had been married and lost her virginity, usually wouldn't be sold to a good place.

Most were sold into brothels, becoming prostitutes selling their bodies, serving porters, and serving laborers.

If I hadn't run into Floyd, I'd probably have died of some sickness in a brothel by now.

Lily said, "Myron's really made it now. He's a chamberlain in the Crown Prince's Household, a fifth-rank official."

"If his mother hadn't sold you off, you'd be a real lady of rank by now." Seeing me lost in thought, Lily took my hand, feeling sorry for me.

If Isabel hadn't been so cruel, maybe I wouldn't have ended up as someone's concubine.

Sure, I've lived in comfort these past few years, but being a merchant's concubine can't compare to the status of an official's wife.

When I heard he had really become a big shot, I thought I'd feel upset that we lost each other because of Isabel's choices.

But I didn't. Let him enjoy his fancy new life.

He didn't come back when he promised, so now, whether he comes back or not, it doesn't matter to me at all.

"Whatever he does, it's none of my business. Don't mention him again. If Floyd hears about it, he'll be mad," I said.

I hadn't forgotten I was Floyd's concubine now. I finally had someone backing me, and I didn't want to offend him and be sold off again.

I wasn't in my prime anymore. If I got sold, I wouldn't even be worth a spot in a cheap brothel.

Most likely, I'd end up as a camp whore or some dirt-poor street girl; anyone could have me for ten farthings.

That would be worse than killing me ten times over.