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“Maybe I’m bored.”
“You’re so bored you followed me here and finagled your way into the House of Bounty?”
“Maybe I’ve always worked here.”
“You said you don’t like hard work, and you’re a Half-Elf.” Her brown eyes pierce mine shrewdly. “No, you’re here under an assumed name, pretending to be someone you’re not. Did you kill the real Rupert?”
“No. He’s quite comfortable, enjoying a charmed sleep while I use his identity.”
“So you don’t really look like this?” She gestures to my face and body, disappointment shadowing her gaze.
“Aww, Juliette… you like the look of me.” I grin at her.
She bristles and blushes. “No, I just—I wondered—”
“This is my true face. The spell only makes me look like Rupert to those who would recognize him. He and I are similar in build and coloring, which makes the ruse easier.”
“If your name isn’t Rupert, what is it?”
I hold my smile in place, even as a chill thrums through my body.
My real name is a chain. A weapon. Shackles and slavery.
“Telling you my name isn’t part of our bargain.” My voice sounds cold and hard, even to me. As if my father is speaking through my throat.
Juliette’s pretty face tightens with confusion. “I was only asking. It’s a normal thing to ask, you know, when you first meet someone.”
“You didn’t ask me last night.”
“Last night I didn’t care to know,” she retorts. “You were an intruder in my bedroom. One doesn’t usually ask burglars and brigands their names.”
“I’m still a burglar and a brigand. A thief, a wanderer, a rogue, and a trickster. You can’t trust me.”
“So you’ve said. And yet.” She holds her arms out, palms up, indicating the room around us.
It’s empty.
I’m spinning the last bit of straw. And I still have a little energy left.
“We’ve done it.” I reel off the last of the golden thread and order the spell to cease as I snatch the full bobbin from its spoke, rise from the bench, and hold the shining thread high. “We’ve done it!”
Juliette laughs and claps her hands, bouncing on her heels. Her excited smile transforms her face. She’s beautiful always, but when she smiles… fuck. My stomach flips over, thrills racing through my chest.
No one has ever affected me like this. What magic does she possess?
“What was in that muffin you gave me?” I demand abruptly. “Are you a potion-crafter?”
Her brows furrow. “No.”
She could be lying. The muffin might have contained a love potion. I was a fool to accept food from a stranger—a human. Elves may be tricksters, but humans are downright treacherous.
A love potion or an attraction charm would explain the way I’ve been feeling about her—the way I was compelled to follow her to the palace. It would explain why I’m breaking my usual patterns, behaving irrationally, and obsessing over what it would be like to fuck this girl.
“I’m going to get food,” I tell her in clipped tones. “I’ll have to say it’s for you and bring it back here. Don’t let anyone know that we’re already done with the task, understand? Don’t call out to the guards or speak to anyone.”
“I offended you somehow,” she says forlornly. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful, believe me.”
“This wasn’t a favor,” I reply. “You paid for it with the necklace.”
