Chapter 9: The Tonic Line

I found the first one at midnight, in the vault, on page three.

The line was in my own hand.

"Luna's tonic, grey-moss, one crate, eleven marks."

I turned the page, and it was there again, a month later.

I turned another, and another.

Six years of quarters, three lines to a quarter, one for each month.

Luna's tonic, grey-moss, one crate.

Every one was initialled R.T. in the careful loops I had learned from Lorna herself.

I had written them at Osric's dictation, in the treasury hall, with my tea going cold.

I had never once asked who the tonic was for.

I had thought it was hers.

I had thought she was a delicate woman, a little sickly, who drank a bitter cup because her blood ran thin.

I had been so proud of the neatness of my books.

I put the ledger down very carefully on the table.

Then I picked up the oil lamp and threw it against the wall.

It smashed, and the flame went out, and the dark came down around me.

I stood there breathing in short, hard gasps.

Fifteen years of grey-moss.

Eleven marks a month, for six years, in my own handwriting, from a fund for dead men's wives.

I had paid for my own muzzle with the widows' gold.

I had signed for it myself.

I walked out of the vault and up the stair and across the yard without my coat.

The night was bitter.

I did not feel it.

I went through the postern and down the steep path to the river.

My breath came out in clouds, and somewhere behind me boots were running.

"Rhona."

I did not turn.

"Rhona, stop."

"Don't tell me to stop."

"I won't." He had caught up with me, and he stood a pace behind, breathing hard. "I'm not telling you anything."

At the water's edge was a low wooden boathouse with a lantern burning in the window.

I went in and slammed the door.

He came in behind me and closed it gently.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Alpha's Claim on the Border Ledger from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.