Free Enchanted by Alethea Kontis

them.
    Schmidt snatched another bag from Panser, who was too busy exchanging smiles with Friday to pay attention. From it, Schmidt counted out one gold piece for every chit left on the table.
    Sunday was confused. The gold on the counter could be melted down to make a ball easily three times the size of Sunday’s bauble. Ah ... he would finish and then subtract what they had spent, thought Sunday, but Schmidt did not. He slid the stacks of gold coins into the velvet bag and pulled the closing string taut.
    “There you are, my dear. Panser has arranged a cart for you and your purchases.”
    She tried to say nothing, but this was too much. “Sir, I think—”
    Schmidt peered sternly at her over his thick glasses. “You’re not second-guessing me, are you, young woman?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Then take the bag and hie you home. Give my best to your fine parents.”
    “Yes, sir,” she whispered. The bag was almost too heavy to lift. “Thank you, sir.”
    Panser led them to the cart where the spoils of their day’s labor waited. He helped Friday up onto the seat near the driver. Sunday and Trix climbed into the back with the bags and barrels.
    The gold weighed so heavily in Sunday’s pocket that it pulled on the front of her dress. She adjusted her pinafore so that the bag would sit more comfortably in her lap. Had they really been so frugal in their shopping? Sunday might have dissuaded her sister from her brutal bargaining, but Friday had loved every moment of it, and Sunday never would have stood in the way of her sister’s enjoyment.
    Stranger still was the ride back through the Wood, on the same road they had walked to get to the market. The path was clear now, as if there had never been a storm at all. Only one sizeable branch blocked their way home. The driver stopped the cart to remove it, dragging it into the brush past a pillarstone and a crooked tree.
    Oh, Grumble. It would be such an easy thing to hop off the cart. There was still a good bit of daylight left. No one would miss her, or the coins in her pocket, as they were hardly expected. But Trix would want to go with her, for sure, and then Friday would be offended if she was not invited to follow.
    Sunday turned to look up at her sister perched prettily on the high seat. Dear, good, sweet Friday, with a heart of purer gold than any bauble that man or fairy could produce. Lovely Friday, with her mahogany hair and her eyes like gray smoke and the patchwork skirts that surrounded her like a halo of love. Sunday had seen how Panser fawned over Friday. They all fawned over her. For all Sunday knew, she herself was the only girl Grumble remembered. And for all that he might love her, Sunday did not know him well enough to trust that he would still love her after meeting her beautiful sister.
    Sunday fingered the silk ribbon around her neck, the only tangible memory she would have of this day, and she felt a familiar vileness course through her. She knew what she was. Ungrateful. Selfish. Jealous. Wicked. Evil. There was no hope for it.
    Trix followed her gaze to the pillar and then back to meet Sunday’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow in question, and she shook her head. She did not want to share Grumble, even if it meant sacrificing another day in his company.
    The driver finished with the limb and continued on the journey home. When he reined in at the front of the house, he offered to stay and unload the purchases. Friday batted her eyelashes. Sunday thanked him. Trix raced to the door, no doubt eager to tell their parents the fantastic story of an upset piecart and their newfound fortune.
    “Mama! Papa! Wait until you...” Trix’s words drifted into nothing.
    They stared at the stranger by Mama’s side. The woman was roughly a head taller than their mother but looked several years younger. Her very dark hair was pulled up into a loose bun, and the fire’s reflection flickered in her equally dark eyes. She wore a tidy wool skirt and a crisp linen shirt with