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“Who knows?” She shrugs and purses her lips. “And honestly who cares? I’m fighting to claim a throne, not a place in his bed.”
I slow my hurried pace as I realize she may be discussing the upcoming tournament to win the Heir of Fate’s hand.
“But I guess if he’s handsome, it won’t hurt anything,” she amends, and three of the girls around her giggle with anticipation.
“I bet he already knows the winner,” one suggests.
Another nods eagerly. “Yeah, he knows it’s you, Sera. That’s why he sent you such a personal letter.”
The woman with the invitation — Sera — sighs and clutches said letter to her chest. “His words are so eloquent.”
I itch at my throat, uncomfortable with the gossip.How did she go from wanting a throne and nothing to do with the Heir to practically drooling over the mere idea of him?I shake my head in disappointment, but I tell myself it’s likely a good thing I’m dealing with hypocrites in that arena. Sera may have skill — her firm muscle says as much — but mentally, she wouldn’t win a fight. Not against me.
Because I don’t want a throne or riches or a hot new husband. No. I want vengeance. I crave the heads of my parents’ murderers, and my ring finger picks up its incessant twitch.
“Can we help you?” Sera sneers toward me.
I stiffen, realizing I’d been staring. I match her sneer easily. “You’re competing in the tournament?”
Sera flips her braid over her shoulder. “What would someone likeyouknow about that?”
“I’m competing,” I admit and stand taller. My nails bite into my palms. I could wring her little neck and have her unconscious in less than a minute for her insult, but I force myself to save my blood lust for the arena. I don’t want to give away my strengths.
Sera’s nose scrunches in disgust. “Ugh, I guess they’ll let anybody in, girls. Maybe it’s not worth my time.”
Her friends snicker, and I crack my neck. “By all means, drop out,” I agree.
Sera squints at me with a look I believe is meant to be menacing, but really it just looks like she’s a blind old bat. “Why would Cristen Estal be at all interested in a street rat?”
I bristle but give her a nonchalant shrug, then turn away to effectively end the conversation. Clearly, she doesn’t have anything useful to offer me.
“So rude,” she tells her friends as I go. “I can’t believe I have to share the same air as trash like that.”
I grit my teeth and focus on getting to Gretta’s.Save your anger for the tournament, I promise myself,you’ll get your chance then.At least, I assume I’ll have to fight the other contestants. I frown, realizing just how little I know about the tournament and what will be required.Am I allowed weapons? Will I need to be quick or smart or both?I shove my hair behind my ears and wander around a corner, but I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Talis.
He leans against a building, one leg propped up, while he smokes out of a pipe. His eyes are hooded as he blows out small rings of smoke. He still wears his attire from last night, and the half of his face that isn’t burnt looks as tired as I feel.
“Talis,” I say, breaking the silence in the air.
He jumps at my voice and drops his pipe with a curse, his eyes flashing open in surprise. “Zora.” He scoops his pipe up and puts it out before he slides it into a satchel across his torso. “Before I met you yesterday, I’d never once run into you in Gronem. Now, it seems Fate wants us to be friends.” He offers me a small smile.
I glance around, expecting The Prince and The Princess to appear, my body slowly tightening in defense.
Talis chuckles. “We aren’t attached at the hip, but I can tell him you’re looking for him.”
I raise a brow and fold my arms. “What makes you think Iwantto see The Prince?”
Talis shrugs but smirks. “Just intuition.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I have other shit to deal with.” I huff and stride away, but Talis catches my elbow and forces me to stop. I spin to him with a snarl. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Talis raises his hands, his eyes wide. “I just wanted to ask if you needed something.”
“Do I need something?” I scoff and shake my head. “Ineedto track down my friend and get a dress back that is likely ruined, so I can trade it for a centimeter of a thread and buy myself a piece of bread. Then Ineedto visit my employer and trade him information about your Prince and Princess for the name of my parents’ murderers. Ineedto fucking get my head straight, and if you’ll notice,noneof those things include you.” I take a step toward him, and despite his considerable height, I know my stern expression makes me taller,louder,even as I lower my voice into a deadly growl. “So don’t talk to me like we’re friends. Don’t touch me like you have my permission when you never will. Don’t even fucking look at me, Talis. I don’t care what information you and your Bosses think you have about me, but Gronem and the Underground know not to fuck with me. It’s time you learn that lesson.”
Talis doesn’t back down. Instead, he stands firm, the half of his face ruptured in burn marks seeming to create darker and darker caverns. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”
I turn away instantly, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. “I’m not hungry anymore,” I lie and stroll away. I don’t care if he presented me with a damn feast. There’s no world where I would sit down and be buddy-buddy with him. He’s a crony for not one but two Bosses. Anything I say to him will never be confidential.
