Page 17 of The Heart Trials

“He knows you?”

Of me. “Yes.”

He knows I smuggle, Lucent said. My tongue pokes my cheek. And yet he never turned me in…

The servant’s chin rises in challenge.

“What about you?” I ask. “You’re the happiest floor scrubber I’ve ever met. And I know plenty who scrub floors.”

“Things are very monotonous here. Your audacity is entertaining.” A smile plays at the corner of his lips. The natural curve of them is interesting. Almost satisfying to look at. They are bow-shaped, round, full, and blushed. The bottom lip is perfectly symmetrical with the top one, with no metal between them. The back of my neck heats suddenly, and he says something I miss.

“What was that?”

“I asked what brought you to Skyhaven today.”

“The less you know the better.”

“Right.” His mouth purses. He doesn’t wince in pain, and I have to stop myself from staring.

“This way.” He leads me past the throne room, where windows of smoked glass line the chamber, darkening the view of the world outside. Dark floors stretch out beneath granite pillars and a few decaying stone statues around the room. An ornamented chair sits on a raised dais shrouded in jagged shards of crystals. Above the seat is another portrait of the Benevolent framed in intricately carved wood. We hurry across the room to a narrow hall that dead-ends into a servant dining area, where a maid sits alone, finishing a cup of tea. We stick to the shadows and out of earshot, waiting for her to finish. Every few moments, he gazes around the corner at the woman drinking.

“What kind of work pays a Saltblood so well?” he whispers.

“Trade.”

“Mmm. If you’ve met the prince, you’ve met the Benevolent as well, then?”

“I never said I met the prince,” I say quietly. “I’ve met the prince’s cousin, Lucent.” It feels wrong saying his name, knowing what’s happened to him.

When the dining area is empty, we pad through it into the kitchens, which are thankfully empty. The servants must be between shifts.

“Just through there”—he points across the kitchen to a pair of double doors—“is the servants’ delivery entrance.” He opens his hand. I gather all the gold I have, trying to slow the thud of my heart. Everything I’ve saved. All I’ve worked for. Serafina’s medicine. The ship. All my plans. Gone. I glare at the double wooden doors, sunlight shining between its seams. All to save my life. And then there’s Lucent.

“I didn’t do what they think I did. I-I’m sorry about what happened to Lucent.”

He steps in front of me, cutting off my path to the exit. “What’s happened to him?” His mirth is gone.

My gut lurches. “Thank you for helping.” I offer him the gold. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“No. You will answer.” He glares, and it unsettles me with familiarity. He won’t take the gold, so I set it on a table before starting toward the doors, but he sidesteps, blocking my way. A silver signet ring I hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by the storm in his eyes, shines on his fourth left finger. A ring only the royal family wears.

His resemblance is uncannily familiar to the Benevolent…

“I should have given you my name. I’m Caelus Altair.”

The prince.

7

Iglare at the tall fellow in servant’s clothes standing over me, demanding an answer to his question.

The Benevolent’s son. The prince. Scrubbing the floors?

His clothes wouldn’t make sense either if I hadn’t seen the other servants. He is in a simple shirt and fitted pants, without fraying hems. His appear meticulously sewn by hand. His shoes are supple leather, and the ring on his finger gleams like real silver.

I stagger backward, putting distance between the prince and myself. Caelus Altair, the Son of Tragedy. They say his grandfather died mysteriously before he was born. Several years later his mother, the Beloved, died too. The books are full of stories about it. The Benevolent’s only son, who will take his father’s place, keeping the lowborn starving while the Skyborn sit in their steel fortress, well fed.

My fingers find the pointy metal in the back of my hair.