The knife fell onto the wooden chopping board, the sound echoing throughout the whole building.
Amy was in the kitchen, cutting up onions for the meal.
Mrs Fitz, thankfully, didn't help. She just let Amy be, leaving her to sort the whole thing as she normally did.
Then there was a sound behind her.
Mrs Fitz had walked in.
She'd jinxed it.
Negative thoughts led to negative outcomes.
"Are you almost done yet?" Mrs Fitz asked.
"Almost," Amy replied.
She found herself bending her neck into a position more awkward than the one she'd been using to hide the scar.
"Well, make it quicker," Mrs Fitz said.
Amy corrected her stance as soon as Mrs Fitz walked out.
She heaved a sigh of relief.
She had to prepare and cook the food while fighting the stinging pain beneath her collarbone and hoping the Fitzgeralds wouldn't notice it.
This was going to be a long, long night.
How would she even explain it to them?
That she'd chased after some dream she'd been having and gotten herself injured in the process?
Who knew? Maybe she'd even picked up the plague from the abandoned district.
She served the food, carrying it out to the Fitzgeralds, who were already seated at the table waiting.
She prayed that the red-orange glow of the lantern would be enough to hide the scar.
Amy bent her head slightly to check.
It wasn't.
The scar was even more obvious now that she was standing close to the table, where the lantern was placed.
She quickly put her hand over it.
Too quickly.
Did that seem odd?
Too out of place?
"A fly."
"What?" Mr Fitz asked.
"It was—there was a fly," Amy stuttered. "I was swatting at it."
"Sure."
That was all Mr Fitz said.
He was probably tired. They'd been out for quite a while.
This was a good thing.
She just had to finish eating quickly and then leave the table.
"Anything interesting happen while we were gone?" Mr Fitz asked, looking directly at her.
Amy froze.
Did he know?
Was that what he meant?
Was he trying to confirm something?
"No. Nothing happened."
Mr Fitz paused.
It was a long, unnatural pause, like he was waiting for someone else to speak.
Like he was waiting for her to tell the truth.
Then he started talking again.
"Okay."
He took a spoonful of food before continuing.
"A lot of stuff happened today."
Amy looked around the table.
Mr Fitz would be too absorbed in whatever story he was about to tell to notice her scar.
She just needed to keep Mrs Fitz from asking questions too.
Then she could keep the scar a secret for as long as it took to heal.
And then maybe she could tell them.
She almost laughed at the thought.
If she ever told them, they would be beyond furious.
She sat between Mr and Mrs Fitz.
They sat opposite each other, and somehow, in the light of the lantern, they looked like interrogators—people sent to extract information from her.
Information about her trip to the abandoned district.
Aside from Mr Fitz's occasional bursts of conversation, they ate most of the meal in silence.
He just kept talking every now and then.
He only did that when he was nervous.
Mrs Fitz usually told him not to talk while eating.
But Amy couldn't be thinking about that.
Not now.
She wolfed down her food as quickly as she could.
When she finished, she stood up to leave.
"Sit, child," Mrs Fitz said.
Amy stopped, her back turned to the table.
Did Mrs Fitz know? Had she seen the scar and said nothing? What was going to happen?
Amy slowly sat back down.
Mrs Fitz picked up a spoonful of her meal, examined it, then poured it back onto the plate.
"Lumpy. Not cooked through."
She placed the spoon down and turned to Amy.
"Why?"
Because I was panicking and worried that you would see the scar if I wasn't fast enough.
"I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry," Amy apologised.
At least this wasn't about the scar.
Mrs Fitz went quiet.
"I've been telling you this for a long time now, and you just don't seem to get it."
"Let the girl be," Mr Fitz chimed in.
"No, I can't."
"And why is that?" he asked.
Mrs Fitz looked at him.
"Why are you acting like you don't know? Like we weren't there together."
"Together?" Amy asked. "When you went out?"
Neither of them responded.
"Well?" Mrs Fitz said. "If you don't tell her, I will."
Mr Fitz sighed.
"Fine. I'll tell her."
Amy looked between them.
What were they talking about?
"Today, there was a young man who came to us," Mr Fitz began. "And he has asked for your hand in marriage."
Amy's heart pumped faster in her chest. The world seemed to spin. She couldn't have heard that right.
That had to be it.
"What did you tell him?" She asked
"Naturally, we said yes," Mrs Fitz replied.
"No. No, I'm not getting married," Amy cried.
"Yes, you are. You're old enough for it."
"But—"
"There is no discussion. It's already been decided. He will come for you in a month. That's final."
Amy looked to Mr Fitz. He stared at the table. Even in the lantern light, she could see it. He agreed with Mrs Fitz. He wasn't going to help her. Couldn't help her.
"Please, Mrs Fitz. I'm not ready yet. I don't want to get married. I don't even know who I'm marrying."
"You'll get to know him when you're married. He's a good man. Lots of coin. People in the market say he's kind too."
"That doesn't mean I want to marry him."
"You will get married. Now stop being so spoiled. Some girls don't get to be married. You're lucky someone wants to marry you."
Mrs Fitz paused.
"And it's a good thing too, given your circumstance."
Amy stared at her.
"Circumstance?"
"Maybe we should calm down and talk about this later," Mr Fitz said.
"What circumstances?" Amy asked.
"Nothing, Amy. It's nothing, right, my love?" Mr Fitz said, his tone pleading with Mrs Fitz to stop.
"No. She needs to know."
"Know what?"
Why were they being so cryptic?
"Why your father left you in the first place."
Amy's chest tightened.
"He didn't leave you behind. He ran. That man was a criminal. He bit off more than he could chew and, instead of taking you with him, he left you to be someone else's burden."
"Stop, Jacqueline," Mr Fitz said.
Amy was speechless. Words failed her. She wanted to retort. To say it wasn't true. But she knew when Mrs Fitz was lying. And to her horror, right now, she wasn't.
Mrs Fitz looked directly at her.
"Now you see? That you getting married given those circumstances is more than a miracle. It's a blessing from Korvus. So just be grateful and take it."
The table went quiet.
"And take this plate away. You'll have to learn to cook better if you want your husband to be happy."
Mrs Fitz stood and left the table. Mr Fitzgerald sat there for a while, staring at Amy. Then he sighed and eventually followed after her. They started talking in the other room. Mr Fitz was whispering. Mrs Fitz kept shouting.
Amy didn't care.
She just sat there, staring at her empty plate, alone in a room of red.
A tear slid down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away this time. There was no one left to hide it from.
She was betrothed against her will.
And there was nothing she could do about it.