Page 13 of The Heart Trials

“Right. Thanks.” I’m overcome with a strange sensation. A lightness I’ve never felt, an urge to run, fast and far. He studies the yellow Heartfiller that is still in his hand before tying up the bag and opening the transport’s door. He is halfway out when his mischievous smirk returns. He pulls the collar of his shirt down to expose his chest.

“What are you doing?” I say quickly.

He shrugs. “You said it’s good. I just want to be sure.”

“Lucent, how many have you already—”

But his hands are too quick. A gleam of madness glints in his eyes as he presses the yellow glass into his chest. It melts against his flesh, and his torso flickers with a strong glow. He moans groggily with pleasure, and I feel sick. This is bad. This is very bad.

His smile swells as large as his eyes. I watch him, desperately hoping he’s steady on his feet. Standing outside the transport, he grabs the bag of fillers to heave over his shoulder. But suddenly his mouth sags. He sputters words as his throat purples. Frothing foam pours from his lips.

Then, he drops dead.

The next thing I hear are guards shouting for my arrest.

6

There are Mercyenforcers armed with stingers in every direction.

They’re going to take me.

I have seconds to figure out an escape plan.

I tuck my blade back into my bun, concealing it carefully before grabbing as much gold as I can, slipping more into my shoes and as many as I can fit inside my socks beside the skinny backup blade I keep there. As I step out of the transport, my stomach knots at the army of gold I’m leaving behind.

Lucent’s body is obviously lifeless on the ground. Beside him is the sack of Heartfillers—as good as a weapon. My heart thuds in my chest as I kneel, pretending to feel his body for a pulse. As my arms fall back to my sides, I ease a hand inside the bag, grab a fistful of fillers, and shove them down my shirt. I will get back to the orphanage. Whatever it takes.

When I stand, there’s a stinger against the back of my head. Its sharp pinchers scrape at my skin, threatening their deadly shock.

“Identification.”

“Axira Merreri. Saltblood.”

“Axira Merreri of the Saltblood district, you are arrested for the murder of a member of the royal family.”

That isn’t what happened. But I was guilty the minute I was born.

He snatches the blue tag off my arm. “Ethyria law allows you to make a plea to the Benevolent for mercy. If you resist arrest, you forfeit that right and accept guilt. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

He snatches my head back by the hair, forcing me to look at him as he glares into my eyes.

“Heartfiller-negative,” he says as the blade hidden in my bun comes out between his fingers. He admires the driftwood handle. I can still remember the lines etched into my father’s forehead as he worked over it, carving its shape. My father made sure I knew how to hold a knife before I was school aged. To prepare fish, he said.

“Clever, aren’t you?” The guard tucks my father’s blade into his pocket.

“I will get that back,” I say without thinking.

“For a good price.” The guard licks his stained teeth and puckers his lips, grabbing me by the jaw, his disgusting bare hands on my skin. “Love is just another currency.”

I imagine pulling out the blade at my ankle and shoving it between his eyes. I’d be dead before I hit the ground from a dozen stingers shocking me at once.

“Orderly, enough.” The Mercyenforcer examining Lucent’s body steps between us, checking me again. His matte-black uniform is like the others; veins of deep violet run through its seams, but his collar is raised. The others look at him. He must be a leader among them. If I’m talking my way out of this, he’s the one I’ll need to convince. The other guard lets me go.

“Sir—” I start.

“Speak only when spoken to.” He tugs at my wrists sharply, and I urge my mind far away, trying to picture my mother, but it won’t materialize. Then I recall Serafina’s tiny face. Miss Omon. The others. I want to scream. I can get more gold. I can steal more Heartfillers. I can start again.