Chapter 39 Sibling Tensions
He lunged forward and, without warning, tried to wrench the bamboo basket stuffed with paper slips from Sadie’s grasp.
Alexander snapped, shielding the basket, “Who do you think you are, pawing my things? This stall is mine. And spare me the talk of noble Francis virtue. Sadie belongs to the Gates Estate now, she can do whatever she pleases. Your family has no say.”
“You…” Adonis sputtered, speechless.
Crimson with frustration, Adonis jabbed a trembling finger at Alexander yet failed to form a single word.
Oliver clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze drifting to the overflowing cash box.
Though the stall looked humble, Sadie’s idea minted silver with lethal efficiency–two short hours had earned her nearly a year of his allowance.
I claim to disdain money, yet watching her scoop it up so easily needles me. Those coins ought to be mine–mine to buy a length of white brocade for a robe that would set off my refined features perfectly.
Oliver’s mind was elsewhere when Daisy’s worried voice cut in, “Oliver, it’s bad enough that Sadie sells trinkets, but now, she and Mr. Alexander are hawking salt. The Crown forbids private salt. If they’re caught, they’ll be fined, or worse, flogged and shipped to the frontier. They’re making such a show of it. What if someone reports them?”
He followed her gaze to the crock of snow–white crystals.
He reckoned Sadie and Alexander were smuggling salt. If anyone informed on them, the constables would haul them away in chains.
A spiteful gleam flashed across Oliver’s eyes. Without another word, he headed straight for the nearest patrol.
Moments later, several uniformed officers strode up to Sadie’s stall and demanded to see a license to trade
in salt.
Daisy furrowed.
“Sadie, do you not know private salt trade is a capital offense? You’ll drag Mr. Alexander down with you. Mr. Alexander, I apologize on her behalf.”
Alexander rolled his eyes and swatted the air as though fending off a stink. “Who’s yapping? That breath could kill a horse.”
Humiliation burned through Daisy; her nails dug so hard into her palms she nearly drew blood.
Why does he despise me in every lifetime? I look exactly like Sadie; I’m brighter, sweeter, yet he refuses to see it. Blind fool. No wonder a falling beam crushed his legs in the previous life. He deserved it.
Before the tension could snap, Sadie produced a rolled document and handed it to the officers. “Mamlet stamped this himself; it grants the Gates family full rights to trade in salt and iron.” After studying the seal, the leader nodded. “Authentic. Mr. Hamlet’s mark is clear.”
Daisy and Oliver stared, thunderstruck.
Chapter 39 Sibling, Tensions
Alexander flashed them a triumphant smirk. “Hear that? We’re licensed. You can’t carnan honestof you try tattling on us. All that scheming, and still you’ll never be anything but pests!”
The four Francis siblings turned an ugly shade of gray.
Oliver squared his shoulders and glared at Sadie. “Cheap tricks, that’s all you know. If you think such petty games make a real merchant, you’re deluded.”
Sadie tilted her head, voice mild. “Then please, Oliver, enlighten me.”
Daisy stepped forward to shield her brother.
“Sadie, success will soon follow the worthy. When Oliver becomes the richest man in Aurelia Province. someday, I hope you won’t regret today.”
With rigid backs, the four of them stalked away.
Sadie’s lips curved in a silent, dismissive smile.
Richest man of Aurelia Province? In this lifetime? Not a chance.
The afternoon sky blazed clear and blue, paper kites drifting lazily above the town. On the parade ground nearby, crowds gathered; the martial contests were about to begin, and excitement already crackled in the warm air.
The boys of Aurelia Province formed squads of five, each knotting a different–colored band across their foreheads so the marshals could tell them apart.
At the far end of the parade ground rose a colossal wooden tower, lashed together from countless logs, every level draped with fluttering ribbons.
A single pennant snapped at its peak, the silk stitched with the bold title “Marshal,” and the squad that tore it free would be crowned champion.
The instant the steward struck the bronze gong, hooves hammered the turf and five–man teams raced for Skyreach Tower.
Crowd cheers crashed over the field like storm surf against stone cliffs.
Sadie cast a quick glance toward the reviewing platform where the city officials lounged beneath silk awnings. Directly behind Zephyr, she spotted the gray–haired general who, in her previous life, had taken such a liking to Neville. The elderly man watched the race with boyish enthusiasm, leaning forward each time a rider changed position.
Out on the course, however, the lead belonged to someone else. Alexander had broken from the pack, his pale–yellow headband snapping behind him like a banner. Horse and rider blazed across the turf in a streak of arrogant color, leaving the other boys chewing dust.
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