Remind myself…
That there’s no one left to be angry with.
Because he’s dead.
I nearly sag against my captor, but his firm grip on my cuffed hand manages to steady me. “He was going to send me away,” I explain, voice quavering. “I confess I did not react with dignity. I said horrible things to him.”
“Like what?” There’s no judgment in his voice. Not even curiosity. His tone is so even, so dry and neutral, that it somehow soothes my mood. Slightly.
“I…I accused him of changing since marrying Queen Tris. I said he didn’t defend me anymore. Didn’t protect me. I stormed away from him, but I immediately regretted everything I said. That’s why I made the pie.”
Tears well in my eyes as I recall my hideous, horrendous, handmade pie. I thought the palace baker would sever my head when I insisted I be allowed to make it myself.
“Why, though, did you make it? What’s the reason behind the reason?”
If I didn’t hate my captor, I’d be impressed. He asks questions the same way I watch my targets when I’m matchmaking. Seeking beneath the surface. “I made it because I thought it would remind him of how things were before Tris came into our lives. Before they married three years earlier, I was the only cook in our home. Father was too busy to cook, always working odd hours. He’d have worked straight through every meal if it hadn’t been for my awful cooking. My father was a painter, you see.”
The nameless bounty hunter nods. “Yes, that is how he gained Queen Tris’ favor. He painted her portrait.”
“He did,” I say, not mentioning that I had a hand in that very portrait. It was one of the last times Father and I worked as a team. Thanks to my magic, he was able to highlight the three things Tris liked most about her appearance—her hair, her skin, and her lips—as well as working in the other qualities she favored. Beauty, charm, and lovability. Queen Tris was so enamored with the end product that she made him one of her prized artisans and gave us rooms at the palace. Not long after, she and Father fell in love. She made him her husband, then her king—a true honor, considering royal titles are not automatically given to the husbands and wives of the isle’s ruling monarchs. Tris loved Father so much, she wasn’t willing to let him remain merely her consort. However, he wouldn’t accept the honor unless I was named princess as well. Tris grudgingly complied.
We approach the rear entrance to Department Sloth, and two doormen open the set of double doors. They don’t bother looking our way, not even at our still-clasped hands as we step over the threshold. Panic climbs into my throat as he guides us down a plush, purple-carpeted hall, silver sconces glowing with orbs of light illuminating our way. Depending on where his suite is located, we could be mere seconds away from the end of our journey. The end of how long he promised to listen to me.
We bypass the corridor that leads to my tiny room and proceed to a silver gate. Next to it stands a muscular fae. His legs end in wide hooves, and his head sprouts curved horns. The sight of large hooves always makes me anxious, eliciting almost the same level of panic I get around horses, but what stands beside the fae is nearly as dreadful. The elevator. I’ve only ridden in it once, but that was enough for me. “Can’t we take the stairs?” I whisper.
“Not to the top floor.”
I blink at him in surprise. The top floor hosts the finest rooms. I’m given only a moment to gawk before the horned fae opens the gate and nods at my captor, who in turn leads me into the narrow boxlike alcove. The muscular fae closes the gate as we turn to face it, then steps out of view. I hear him turn the crank just as the floor begins to lift. Against my will, I cling to the bounty hunter. He, on the other hand, leans against the back wall as if riding in a moving box is the most normal thing in the world.
Urgency thrums through me, reminding me my time is running out. If I’m going to convince him not to take me back to Spring, I need to do it now. I must get him to trust me.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my voice unsteady as my stomach lurches with every inch the lift climbs.
“You don’t need to know my name.”
“But I want to.” I try to add something sweet in my tone, but I think it comes off more frightened.
I glance up at him in time to see his jaw shift side to side. He refuses to meet my eyes but manages to give me an answer. “The Huntsman.”
“Your name is Huntsman?”
“That’s what you can call me.”
“All right, Huntsman. I implore you to believe me. I didn’t kill my father. I would never do such a thing. I loved him more than anyone in this whole world and love him still with every beat of my heart.”
He turns his gaze to mine, expression full of surprise. The single light in the lift illuminates the honey tones of his eyes, the fiery copper in his hair.
My breath catches in my throat. Only now do I realize how close we’re standing. Despite our lack of audience, our palms remain clasped. My free hand, having reached for him when the lift began to move, is still clenched around his arm. I stare down at my hand, painfully aware of the hard muscle beneath my palm. He might not be as muscular as the elevator operator, but the firm bicep under my hand…
With a lurch, I pull my hand off his arm and step as far from the Huntsman as my bonds will let me go. Our palms are no longer clasped, but my skin tingles in the absence of his heat. We ride the rest of the way up in silence while I try to come up with something that will make him see that I’m innocent.
When the lift comes to a stop, the silver gate opens to a dimly lit hall with white marble walls lined with elegant paintings and gold sconces. The floors are fiery pink and orange sunstone. I’ve never been to the top floor of Sloth, but it certainly puts the first level wing I live on to shame.
The Huntsman leads us down a quiet corridor, his steps too quick for my liking. I have to rush to keep up with him lest I be dragged by my cuff. Clearly, he’s eager to get to his suite. What did he say about it? That there’s something there that will allow us to get to Spring quickly? I try my appeal one last time. “Please don’t take me back to her. She’ll kill me.”
“I know,” he says, tone dark. “I was sent to do that very thing. I made a binding bargain to bring her your heart.”
“But I didn’t—”
