“Quiet, girl.”
The jailer’s voice. In the darkness, I hadn’t seen him coming. He was apparently just outside my cell though. I heard the jingle of keys.
“What is happening?” I asked, my heart exploding into a mad scatter of beats.
Was this it? Had Pharis told his father? Would I be led to the gallows now?
The jailer grunted. “Don’t ask me. All I know is you have some kind of mysterious appeal to princes.”
What?
He entered the enclosure and unlocked my ankle restraint then jerked my arm, dragging me toward the cell door.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded to no avail. Was it possible he was taking me to Stellon?
A mysterious appeal to princes.What did that mean?
As we drew closer to the dungeon entrance, I saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing there, silhouetted in the candlelight.
My heart leapt with hope but crashed to the filthy stone floor a moment later when the man’s face came into view.
Pharis gave me a cocky grin accompanied by a facetious bow.
“My esteem falls upon you, my lady.”
Drawing up to my full height—which was a foot or more shorter than his—I tilted my chin up in defiance and glared at him.
“Come to do the deed yourself, have you?”
Pharis’ eyes roamed over my body then returned to my face.
“Whatdeedis that, exactly?” he drawled in a provocative tone. I ignored his insolence.
“Executing me of course.”
Pharis’ grin widened. He turned to the jailer, depositing a heavy-looking bag in his palm. He must have been the richest man in the kingdom by this point, excluding the royal family, of course.
“Not a word to anyone or you won’t get the chance to spend a coin of it,” Pharis warned him.
“I understand, Your Highness.” The man nodded, a sober expression on his face.
“One more thing,” Pharis said. “I’ll need you to tie her hands.”
My head jerked up toward him. “Why? What is happening? Where are you taking me?”
He ignored my rapid-fire questions, simply watching as the jailer did as he instructed, pulling my arms behind my back and securing my wrists with a cord of some kind.
Draping a cloak over me, Pharis gripped my upper arm. “Come on then,” he said.
As if I had a choice in the matter.
It was a struggle to keep up with his long stride. I stumbled along beside him, firing questions at him all the way up the long, winding staircase to the main floor of the Fae palace.
“Does the king know? Have I been sentenced to death? Where is Stellon? Is he okay?”
“Be quiet,” Pharis said as we reached the top of the staircase.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you want to keep your pretty little head on that pretty little neck of yours, you’ll keep your mouth shut until we’re away from the palace.”
