Read Online The Mark of the Dragonfly by Jaleigh Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jaleigh Johnson
Ads: Link
proportion.”
“Out of—” Piper looked around the room, at her father’s coat, his boots—now hers—and suddenly realized what the girl meant. “Most of this stuff belonged to my father. Sure, it doesn’t fit me, but I don’t have anything else,” she said, irritated and a little self-conscious.
“Your father?” Anna brightened. “Where is he? With him in the room, the proportions would be perfect.”
“No argument there,” Piper said softly. She picked up the drawings and her father’s letters that Anna had scattered over the floor, gathering them carefully into a bundle. “He used to be a foundry worker in Ardra until Aron decided to stop trading iron to the Merrow Kingdom because he needed all of it in his own factories. Pretty greedy, right? I mean, how much iron does one king need?” She felt that ugly burning sensation in her gut again and fought to quell it. “Anyway, people like my father lost work and turned to scrapping in the harvesting fields to get by. We weren’t making enough money, though, and since the Merrow Kingdom didn’t care enough to help the people who were out of work—they’re too busy trying to make weapons without iron—Dad went south to the Dragonfly territories to work at one of the big factories in Noveen, hoped that eventually he’d save enough to buy us a house there. He sent letters and money every week until about a year ago, when he died.”
“He died?” Anna’s forehead wrinkled, as if this didn’t make sense to her. “How?”
“Breathing the factory smoke made him sick—I didn’t know for sure he was dead at first. The letters and money stopped coming. Then I got a letter from the factory boss. He said the illness came on so quick there was nothing they could do. They buried him in one of the cemeteries down south.” Piper shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but the memory of seeing Micah’s fragile body in the fields, the absence of her own father’s body, made her sick inside. At least if the worst happened, Micah’s family would have something to bury. The people who died in the factories were only sent home if their families could pay to have the body shipped. Since she couldn’t, Piper had laid a wreath of flowers behind the house and pretended it was a grave.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. Her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry for touching the pictures. I was wrapped up in the analytical, not the social. I should have asked before I tried to make sense of them.”
“Forget it,” Piper said. She shook out a wadded-up shirt that had been lying on the floor. “If you’re feeling better, maybe you could help me straighten things up in here?”
A sudden, loud knocking made them both jump. Piper’s first thought, before she remembered, was that it was Micah—he was the one who came to see her most often, rapping urgently at the door just like that, as if hecouldn’t wait to get inside—but she quickly reminded herself that that was impossible. Micah was still unconscious and recovering at home.
Goddess, she hoped it wasn’t the Consortium already. She knew that sooner or later she was going to have to answer for running out of the shelter into the storm, but she didn’t think they’d get around to punishing her this soon. Piper glanced at Anna and saw her eyeing the door uneasily.
“It’s all right,” Piper said, wanting to reassure the girl. “Stay by the stove where it’s warm, and I’ll see who it is.”
Piper went to the door, unlocked it, and lifted the bar. She opened the door partway to see a man standing on the threshold. He was dressed in the remains of a suit and trousers that had once been very fine but were now torn and bloodstained. His right arm rested in a sling made out of part of the suit. His face was gaunt, as if he hadn’t slept or eaten in days. A black beard contrasted sharply with his pale white skin.
Automatically, Piper slid sideways a step, putting the protection of the door between her and the man.
“Out of—” Piper looked around the room, at her father’s coat, his boots—now hers—and suddenly realized what the girl meant. “Most of this stuff belonged to my father. Sure, it doesn’t fit me, but I don’t have anything else,” she said, irritated and a little self-conscious.
“Your father?” Anna brightened. “Where is he? With him in the room, the proportions would be perfect.”
“No argument there,” Piper said softly. She picked up the drawings and her father’s letters that Anna had scattered over the floor, gathering them carefully into a bundle. “He used to be a foundry worker in Ardra until Aron decided to stop trading iron to the Merrow Kingdom because he needed all of it in his own factories. Pretty greedy, right? I mean, how much iron does one king need?” She felt that ugly burning sensation in her gut again and fought to quell it. “Anyway, people like my father lost work and turned to scrapping in the harvesting fields to get by. We weren’t making enough money, though, and since the Merrow Kingdom didn’t care enough to help the people who were out of work—they’re too busy trying to make weapons without iron—Dad went south to the Dragonfly territories to work at one of the big factories in Noveen, hoped that eventually he’d save enough to buy us a house there. He sent letters and money every week until about a year ago, when he died.”
“He died?” Anna’s forehead wrinkled, as if this didn’t make sense to her. “How?”
“Breathing the factory smoke made him sick—I didn’t know for sure he was dead at first. The letters and money stopped coming. Then I got a letter from the factory boss. He said the illness came on so quick there was nothing they could do. They buried him in one of the cemeteries down south.” Piper shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but the memory of seeing Micah’s fragile body in the fields, the absence of her own father’s body, made her sick inside. At least if the worst happened, Micah’s family would have something to bury. The people who died in the factories were only sent home if their families could pay to have the body shipped. Since she couldn’t, Piper had laid a wreath of flowers behind the house and pretended it was a grave.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. Her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry for touching the pictures. I was wrapped up in the analytical, not the social. I should have asked before I tried to make sense of them.”
“Forget it,” Piper said. She shook out a wadded-up shirt that had been lying on the floor. “If you’re feeling better, maybe you could help me straighten things up in here?”
A sudden, loud knocking made them both jump. Piper’s first thought, before she remembered, was that it was Micah—he was the one who came to see her most often, rapping urgently at the door just like that, as if hecouldn’t wait to get inside—but she quickly reminded herself that that was impossible. Micah was still unconscious and recovering at home.
Goddess, she hoped it wasn’t the Consortium already. She knew that sooner or later she was going to have to answer for running out of the shelter into the storm, but she didn’t think they’d get around to punishing her this soon. Piper glanced at Anna and saw her eyeing the door uneasily.
“It’s all right,” Piper said, wanting to reassure the girl. “Stay by the stove where it’s warm, and I’ll see who it is.”
Piper went to the door, unlocked it, and lifted the bar. She opened the door partway to see a man standing on the threshold. He was dressed in the remains of a suit and trousers that had once been very fine but were now torn and bloodstained. His right arm rested in a sling made out of part of the suit. His face was gaunt, as if he hadn’t slept or eaten in days. A black beard contrasted sharply with his pale white skin.
Automatically, Piper slid sideways a step, putting the protection of the door between her and the man.
Similar Books
