He sighed, relieved and feeling triumphant. And now to get some thanks from the girl. He sheathed his knife, turned, and offered a hand to the girl. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, taking his hand. He pulled her to her feet. “Thank you.”
Jaysynn stepped back both to keep his face hidden and because the girl reeked of cheap perfume. “Don’t worry. That’s all the thanks I want.”
She closed her eyes to fight back tears.
Now, despite his royal upbringing, the prince was unsure what to say, but he ventured, “A girl like you shouldn’t…sell herself like a piece of meat.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she replied, wiping away tears.
“But…prostitution? I can’t believe such an undignified thing exists in Thyrion.”
“Where have you been?” shot the girl in agitated surprise. “Lots of women have had to do this. One of my friends joined the Ladies of the Night Club and got me into it. She said you could make lots of money really fast. So, she gave me these clothes and I started walking the streets. It took me three hours before I could get any men to…approach me.”
“But why?”
“My father was a soldier, but now he’s crippled, and my mother is too sick to work. We need money and fast. I’m the oldest. I had to do something since my brothers and sisters are too young to work. They’re starving. They can’t wait.”
Jaysynn hung his head. Now words did fail him. I should leave before…. He glanced at the girl. Strong for someone this young, yet forced to sacrifice her Thyrian pride. If only I–wait!
He dashed to his backpack and picked it up.
“What’s that?” asked the girl.
Jaysynn unzipped it, pulled out the bag of bread, and held it out to her. “Take these and share them with your family.”
The girl looked befuddled.
“I insist. They’re a few hours old and were flattened during my run, but I promise you they’re still tasty.”
The girl apprehensively took the bread. “I’ve never seen bread that looked this good,” she said, examining the loaves. “It looks like it should be from the Palace.”
Jaysynn smiled.
“Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome, miss.”
Suddenly smiling, the girl giggled. “My name’s Kyrie.”
“Then you’re welcome, Kyrie.”
She giggled again.
“I can get you a job. A good job. You won’t have to sell yourself.”
“You can? Where?”
Jaysynn replayed his run in his head, digging for any potential workplaces. “Isn’t there a bakery on Evergreen Street a few blocks from here? We could try there first.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, if you want.”
Kyrie’s jaw dropped. “I…I don’t know what to say. Why would you do this for me?”
Jaysynn hesitated to answer. Why am I doing this?
After a brief pause, he finally said, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Kyrie wiped away more tears. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to not be treated like I’m invisible. I just wish someone could do this for all the other women I know.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Emperor, that—” She mouthed a filthy profanity. “Doesn’t he know how many women have been widowed because of him and his constant wars and conquests? Some of them are only a few years older than me! Without husbands to take care of them, they’re desperate for food and money. Some of them have children to feed. They don’t know what to do.” She harrumphed. “I have friends who had to watch their husbands leave during his stupid parade for Prince Shar, afraid they won’t come home.”
Jaysynn felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. A righteous indignation welled up inside him. Father has truly sacrificed the people for his own glory.
Kyrie composed herself. “I need to get home,” she said, stepping forward and stumbling. She kicked off her high-heels and picked them up. “If only to get out of these horrible clothes.”
She ran past Jaysynn, but then stopped and looked back at him. “You never showed me your face.”
“I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Fair enough. But who are you?”
Jaysynn paused. “A friend.”
Kyrie looked disappointed, but smiled anyway. “I’ll see you around.” With that, she ran down the alley and into the street.
Jaysynn walked up to the street, peered around the corner, and watched Kyrie to make sure she was not attacked by any more would-be “customers.” Once she rounded a corner a few blocks away, he slipped back into the alley.
He leaned against the wall and hung his head. My father is poisoning Thyrion’s soul. If only I could stop his wars. He pounded the brick wall. I can’t sit by and let the people suffer. I’d be no better than my family. What glory is there in war when it does this? He buried his face in his hands. After a few seconds of tortured silence, he raised his head. His eyes were full of fire. I can’t stop the war, but I can and will help the people on the streets.
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