Page 71 of White Raven

“Puppets?” he repeated.

“Yes, because the puppet was me!” I snapped back, then grew quieter. “Me and my father. They made us out to be these horribly vain people. My father a tyrant and me this stupid, spoiled, oblivious brat.”

“So far I’m not seeing what they got wrong.”

“Fuck you.” Irritation leaned me forward, not wanting to touch him, ready to take my chances out in the woods again. “I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. And if I’m spoiled, it was because of my circumstances. I was raised in the noble world as the White Raven. I had no say in that. Why am I hated for that when they don’t even know me?”

He stayed quiet for a long time, the town starting to build up around us, hinting we would soon be entering Blackwater again.

“It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “And you’re right, they don’t know you. But when you see someone have everything and you have nothing, it’s easy to single them out, to hate for the ease in which they live, while you fight to just have food on your table.”

I pressed my lips together, hearing his words.

“I don’t think they hate you for having privilege, but for the ignorance of not seeing their poverty.” Tears pricked my lids as he spoke, hitting deeper than the play had. “When someone has so much and can’t see others suffering right in front of them . . . resentment breeds into hate.”

My head bowed, staring down at the sweet little creature in my hand. It was true. I had been completely unaware of anyone suffering. I liked being in that bubble. I didn’t even try to see more or talk to the merchants at the market about their lives. It was comfortable to live in the space where they curtsied and bowed, stating what an honor my visit was. Did I take notice of their poor clothes and meager means? Yes, but I didn’t do anything about it. It was only kind words and applause for me and the king.

Fluffy trotted into the town, the streets as busy and boisterous with adults, kids, and animals. Even with the threat of thieves, murderers, swindlers and criminals, there was a community that threaded through the town. Even in hardship they had learned to carve out their existence. Find happiness in it.

Many didn’t understand the pressure of my role, the duty on my shoulders, but I’d never had to fight for food or where I’d sleep. I had the privilege of worrying about my hair and looks, being fitted for new dresses, to soak in a bath for hours before a gathering where I could gorge on food and drink.

Onyx dismounted the horse in front of the inn. My hand was still around Munch, so he gripped my hips, helping me slide off the enormous steed. I couldn’t find the strength to look fully at him; the intensity of this man had my neck and chest prickling.

Munch let out a sigh, snuggling deeper into my palm.

“I need you to get something for me.” I secured Munch in my cloak pocket, not wanting to wake him.

A guffaw broke from the Northerner’s throat. “After what happened, you are asking me for a favor?”

I lifted my head up, looking into his eyes.

“Yes.” I swallowed, not able to hold his gaze. “I need clippers to cut my hair.”

“What?” He blinked in startlement. “Cut your hair?”

I forced myself to nod.

“It has been used against me many times now. Gotten me caught when I’m trying to escape.”

“Braid it.”

“It’s still too long.” I motioned around to the women in the village. Their simple, hard life didn’t allow them time to wash and fuss over long manes. It took money to care for the length I had, reaching far past my ass. A status symbol of wealth, the leisure I had to spend, and the thralls who helped me. The women here kept their hair just below their shoulder blades, easier to braid and take care of. “I stand out. Only high-bred women have hair this long.” I faced him again. “I’m even more of a target. A prize for more scoundrels to kidnap and sell.”

His notice wandered over me, slowly and methodically. Every beat of my heart felt like it should pop out from my chest. It took everything to keep my chin up, and not bow to the force of his gaze.

Slowly, his head dipped. “Fine.” His hand pressed into my lower back, directing me inside the inn, staying close. My stomach dipped when Frida stopped mid-step in the middle of the room, her breath sucking in at the sight of Onyx. It was the effect he had on her, the effect he had on many.

“You’re still here.” A hopeful tone laced through, before her gaze went to me as if she remembered I was also there.

“One more night.” Onyx’s hand never left my back. The strain between us all was highly uncomfortable, which I would happily have taken myself out of.

“Can we get clippers, soap, a bowl of water, towels, and dinner brought to the room?” I spoke without thinking—demanded with the confidence of my station, who I was as at home, the authority to request whatever I wanted from the thralls, as I had my whole life. “And probably mead. We’ve had a rough day.”

Frida’s head wrenched to me, her mouth parting at my audacity. “Excuse me?” Her attention flew from me to Onyx, ready for him to put me in my place. To punish the thrall who spoke out of turn.

Onyx groaned under his breath, his knuckles digging into my spine, his jaw clenching. He reached into his pocket, dropping coins into her hand. “What you can get, Frida.” His fingers prodded me, driving me to the stairs with force.

“Fy faen.”