There was blood on the coins.
Not all of them, but enough for me to know it likely came from the shopkeeper at Thrift while he piled gold into that little leather pouch.
I simply remedied the situation.
Flipping the blade high, I snatch it by the pointy end, eyes narrowed on the shard of my reflection displayed on the buffed silver …
I don’t know who I am anymore, and I barely recognizedhim.It wasn’t just the extra facial hair roughing up his appearance, or the way he looked at me like he was some ravenous beast chowing down on every second. It was something deeper. Something that made me feel seen in a way that coaxed my cowering fear.
Why is he looking now, when I’ve goteverythingto hide?
With a snarl, I flick the blade with such gusto, it whistles through the air and sinks into my corner post, pinning the gossamer curtain in place like the lucid wings of a butterfly.
A door clicks open in the lobby, and my head swivels at the sound of footsteps echoing off the walls. There’s a light knock, then the rusty voice of the guard who stands in for Kolden sometimes. “Are you okay, Mistress?”
“I’m fine.”
Fuck off.
I pull the dagger free, then slip off the bed and walk to the balcony door, spinning when I reach the opening. I lift my arm and aim for the same damaged divot—
A cool rush swirls across the back of my neck, pulling my eyes shut, and I shiver all over, heart lurching so hard I’m struck with a sense of vertigo. I grasp the doorframe for support, slowly opening my eyes, and look to the stone bench on the balcony to my right, just below my window.
A small, leather sheath sits upon it.
My breath shudders free.
I stalk to each corner, looking down at the palace grounds, then up toward the roof, before snatching the sheath by the strap. Prying the small scroll from where it’s nesting in the hollow, I unroll it, studyhisslanted script—three small words that plant sizzling embers in my chest.
I’d completely forgotten about that. Guess it was spent on a ship, wrapped in a storm, suffocating on nightmares of Rhordyn putting a talon through my chest.
I pocket the note and shove the blade straight in.
Perfect fit.
Shaking my head, I grind my molars, hand crushing the leather strap. I’m certain he gave me the pickaxe, the bluebells,this. Perhaps he was even the one to paint the wisteria on my wooden sword. But it doesn’t change the fact that he hid me from myself.
Lied to me foryears.
Doesn’t change the fact that he locked me in his fucking den after kissing me like there was no beginning, no middle, no end.Just that one catastrophic moment blazing like a single star in an otherwise empty sky.
I wrestle down the thought and cast another look around the balcony, then lug the doors shut, slamming the lock into place before backing toward the bed one slow step at a time.
The big, heavy glass doors … they suddenly look so fragile.A pathetic, frail barrier he could shatter in a heartbeat.
Ripping my hair out of its low bun, I breathe deep, trying to tamp the shameful surge of thrill I’m struck with at the thought.
Sitting on the bed with my back to the balcony, I toss the dagger aside and reach for the large woven satchel I purchased to pile all my stuff into, pulling out two thick, velvet cloaks and spreading them across the sheets—the larger for me, smaller for Zane. Smiling when I think about the lovely merchant I found tucked in the corner of the market square. How she helped me choose the perfect sizes and explained the Bahari coin system when it became obvious I had no idea what I was doing.
I paid her double for her kindness.
I neatly fold Zane’s cloak, then wrap it in some cloth, smiling as I imagine his face lighting up when he opens it. Legs crossed beneath me, I drape mine across my shoulders and flick up the hood.
Reaching back into the woven satchel, I retrieve a paper bag filled with the honey-bun knockoffs and dust my lap and fingers in powdered sugar as I take a bite so large my cheeks bulge, a glob of pure honey oozing from the center.
I close my eyes, savoring the way the fluffy dough and honeyed cream harmonize together, more flavor bursting with each slow chew.
Not as good as Cook’s, but delicious nonetheless.
