The Scent of Desperation
Getting motor oil off my hands was harder than getting blood out.
I rubbed the cheap bar of soap on the edge of the sink viciously against the blackness embedded under my fingernails. My skin turned red, my fingers throbbed, but the blackness was stubborn. Just like our lives. Once it stuck to you, no matter how hard you scrubbed, it wouldn't come off.
From beyond the thin walls behind me came that sound.
A cough.
Dry, wheezing, and lung-tearing.
I threw the soap into the sink and ran inside without even drying my hands. Leo was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching his chest. He was only twelve, but the dark circles under his eyes made him look fifty.
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here," I said, crouching beside him and rubbing his back. I hoped the metallic smell of oil on my palms wouldn't bother him.
"Medicine," Leo whispered. He couldn't breathe.
I reached for the brown bottle on the nightstand. It was light. The damn bottle was light as a feather. I turned it upside down and shook it.
Empty.
He had drunk the last drop last night.
As I waited for Leo’s seizure to pass, my heart was battering against my ribcage. A few minutes later, when his breathing settled and he slumped back onto the pillow, I walked with trembling legs to the kitchen, to the shelf where the metal cookie tin was kept.
I opened the tin.
Inside was nothing but a few coins and dust.
This month's rent. My weekly pay from the repair shop (which the boss had delayed again). The electricity bill. And Leo’s medicine.
The math was simple: I couldn't pay them all. In fact, I couldn't pay any of them in full.
I slammed the tin onto the counter. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the empty house. Desperation had clamped onto my throat like a hand. Leo was dying, and I, as his big sister, had nothing to give him but this damn motor oil on my hands.
Just then, the front door burst open.
Rain and wind rushed in, and Maya appeared on the threshold, soaked to the bone. She was breathless. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face, and she was clutching a crumpled piece of newspaper.
"Rhea!" she shouted, kicking the door shut. "I found it! I swear I found it!"
"Found what, Maya?" I asked in a tired voice. "If it's another one of those illegal betting rings, forget it. We almost got arrested last time."
"No, no!" Maya stormed into the kitchen without taking off her muddy boots and smoothed the wet paper onto the counter, right next to the empty cookie tin. "This is legal. It’s beyond legal. It’s Royal approved!"
I looked at the paper. It had a gold-leafed crest and large, ornate lettering.
ELIGIBLE BRIDES SOUGHT FOR CROWN PRINCE JAMES.
20 young women selected from across the Kingdom will be hosted at the Palace.
"Are you kidding me?" I laughed, but it was an angry laugh. "Maya, look at my hands. Do you think I'm princess material? What am I going to do there? Change the oil in Prince James’s carriage?"
"Read the bottom, Rhea," Maya said, pointing to the fine print at the bottom of the paper. There was a wild glint in her eyes. "Just read that part."
I narrowed my eyes and read.
...The family of every candidate eligible to participate in the selection will be paid 5,000 Crowns weekly from the Royal Treasury as a 'Service Fee' for the duration of their stay at the Palace.
5,000 Crowns.
That meant six months of Leo’s medicine.
That meant clearing the rent, paying off debts, and maybe moving out of this damn moldy house.
"Weekly," Maya whispered. "Even if we stay just one week, it’s enough, Rhea. Just one week."
"They won't pick us," I said, feeling my resistance crumbling. "They won't let 'Lower City' girls like us into that palace."
"They will," Maya said confidently. "Because this time the theme is 'Uniting with the People.' They have to take girls from every district. I already filled out the applications. We just need photos and signatures."
My gaze drifted from the paper on the counter to my brother sleeping in the other room. Leo’s wheezing breath could be heard even from here.
Prince James. That ice sculpture. That spoiled brat I saw in the newspapers, looking down his nose, who had never faced a real problem in his life. Being a pawn in his ridiculous marriage game... It made me sick.
But for Leo, I could stomach being sick.
"We don't have to win," Maya said, as if reading my thoughts. She put a hand on my shoulder. "We'll go, eat free food, wear those fancy dresses and make fun of them, cause a scene at the first elimination, get kicked out, and come back with our money."
I took a deep breath. The air filling my lungs smelled of rain and motor oil. But for the first time, there was a faint scent of hope within that smell.
I reached out and took the pen from the counter.
"Fine," I said, my voice hard. "But I won't bow to anyone in that palace, Maya. Not even Prince James."
Maya grinned. "That's my girl."
I signed it.
And in that moment, without realizing it, I sealed the most dangerous deal of my life. I thought I would stay for just a week and return.
But fate—and that damn Prince—had entirely different plans for me.
