Page 16 of The Heart Trials

He stands, towering over me, unnaturally tall, toned, and strong. He dries his hands on his pants. White hair cascades down his broad shoulders, shimmering like spun silver down his back. His tunic is made well but ripped at the shoulder, torn like his fitted pants. His shoes are fine leather boots with gold laces tied in an odd pattern. But it is his stare, glinting with scrutiny, that holds my attention.

“And why should I help you?” He messes with the hem of his tunic, staring at me intensely.

“I will pay you.”

He eyes my gloved hands, then my mouth, before crossing his arms. “How much do you have?”

“Those two coins and two dozen more.” Almost all I have. “But you have to escort me to an exit.”

“Show me.”

I remove the gold from my socks and the bottoms of my shoes until my cupped hands are full of all I salvaged from being arrested.

There’s a drawn-out silence before he says, “That’s a lot of gold for Saltblood.”

“How’d you know?”

“I smell it on you.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Amusement curves his pink lips. “I hoped you would.”

“Do we have a deal?”

He braids a small section of his very long hair, reclined against the wall. He eyes the gold before his gaze falls to the silver ornament at one end of the chastity chain across my mouth. A soft divot forms between his brows. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” As if I would tell him if it did.

He stares at it a beat longer before pinning his crystal eyes on me. This time, I notice flecks of green in them, catching the warm light.

“This way.” He leads me down the corridor and slows our pace when he hears voices. I follow at arm’s reach distance. He reroutes us up several flights of stairs, down a long hall, and through a collection of small, empty rooms with tidy beds. Servant quarters, I’d guess, with everyone working now. We descend on the far end of the hall, down the palace’s sunset side. When we reach the ground floor, we enter a large room with a raised dais and stop.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he says.

“And I won’t.”

His eyes narrow. He strokes his cheek before inhaling sharply through his nostrils. “Well, we should hurry, stranger.”

A throng of people enters the throne room, and he urges me to follow him out into the shaded corner of the corridor. He reaches across the distance I’m determined to keep between us as he takes my gloved hand and wraps it around the handle on his bucket. I stiffen at his touch—even through my gloves it’s startling.

“Look occupied.”

I drag the rag down the walls, pretending to wash it, dunking it back in the bucket once and wringing it out, reminding myself that this will work. I will get out of this place. My nerves are frayed as the crowd’s voices grow louder. One look at me directly, one question face-to-face, and I am ruined. Someone in the palace knows the girl being dragged to the cells got away. And if they don’t know yet, they will know soon. To my relief, the crowd passes, their voices growing quieter in the distance. We step out of the shaded corner, and I can breathe again.

“What kind of trouble are you in?”

“Who said I was in trouble?”

He laughs, creases wrinkling around his eyes.

I create more distance between us. But I can’t help but look at him. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I can’t say. But the prince knows what I’m up to, and he’s fine with it.”

That commandeers his attention, his brow quirked. “The prince?”

“Yes.”