Page 27 of Hearts Lost

I shake my head, then throw what’s left of my fruit in a wide arc over the river. It lands with a splash and drifts downstream in a swirl of foam.

“Princess Elanerill,” I say.

Aloserin’s hand drops. He’s staring at me like he really doesn’t want to believe what I’m saying.

“Grathgore sent you to kill his own granddaughter?” he asks.

I shrug again, then wipe my hands on my skirts.

“That’s what kings do,” I reply.

Aloserin’s still watching me with an expression of mingled disgust and disbelief, and it’s making me want to slap him. Of all people, the Acting Captain of the Royal Guard should understand what kings do. Didn’t his own king send him through the portal too? Wasn’t he also some sort of spy, or assassin, or sacrifice?

I pull myself to my feet and try to ignore the way Aloserin’s hand drops back to the hilt of his sword. A flicker of awareness tickles the back of my mind. I turn slowly, wary of startling whatever it is in the forest behind us.

There’s a hint of shadow, deep in the woods. As I watch, it drifts silently across the river and vanishes in the twisting trees. Just another animal going about its business, trying to avoid the strange and potentially dangerous creatures arguing on the black stone beach.

Oh! Oh, by the stars, that’s it. The idea leaps into my mind like a spark landing in a nest of dried tinder. I spin back to Aloserin, who’s still resting his fingers on the hilt of his sword, and give the poor man a grin.

“So,” I say, “are you going to kill me now?”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Now that you know why I was sent here,” I continue, spreading my arms wide. “Are you going to run me through with that sword?”

For just a heartbeat, Aloserin’s eyes drop from my face and seem to catch on the bodice of my dress. I remember unstrapping that sword from his hip, feeling the heat and strength of his body beneath my fingers as I peeled off his heavy cloak, and the air in the void is suddenly hotter.

“No,” Aloserin finally says. His hand leaves the hilt of his sword as he crosses his arms over his chest. “As you said earlier, you had ample opportunity to kill me when I was unconscious, and yet for some reason, you refrained. It would hardly be fair of me to repay that kindness by murdering you now.”

“Good,” I say. I’m smiling, although I can’t for the life of me imagine why. “How very thoughtful of you. And are you ready to just give up now that we’ve had lunch? Maybe walk into the river and try our best to drown?”

His lips twist in return, and once again he’s wearing that strange expression he wore my first night in the Lands Below when he offered me tea spiked with brandy. It’s a look that says he’s smiling despite himself, that he’s tried very hard not to be amused and still failed.

“I suppose we could delay suicide,” he replies.

“Wonderful,” I say. My own smile pulls wider, and I feel a strange, wild joy bubbling up inside my chest. I turn toward the forest and sweep my hands over the view, the river, the trees, and the hidden, invisible path that silent, secret creature followed.

“Because I think I know how to get out of here,” I tell him.