Bring me her heart and I’ll erase your debts and consider your sentence fulfilled.
Freedom. That’s what drives me now. What drove me to say yes two weeks ago when the Spring Queen asked me to commit a vile act well beyond what is required of me. All I have to do is take one life, then my hundred-year sentence of servitude will be over, completed in just five years. Only then can I start earning money of my own. Only then will I have the chance to buy back the inheritance I so recklessly gambled away. I may have an immortal life span, but every minute I bear the weight of my shame is the purest agony. If I have to kill one murderous girl to reclaim what my father left me, I’ll do it.
It isn’t anything less than she deserves, considering the crime she committed, the unforgivable method she utilized to kill Edmund Snow. Her own father. I may bear the guilt of gambling away my deceased father’s fortune, but at least I know what I did was wrong. At least I now do whatever I can to honor his memory. Unlike Miss Snow, a girl whose guilt I confirmed within moments of finding her scent, a fragrance that told secrets I’m sure she thought no one would ever uncover. Besides, what I must do to her will be a mercy compared to whatever punishment her stepmother would design for her.
Sweat beads my brow as I cross Darton Street to the north end of the city. There I catch my first glimpse of the enormous structure perched at the far end of Nieman Avenue. The Seven Sins Hotel. It spans nearly the full length of the city behind a tall sandstone wall lined with palm trees. Rumor has it a portion of the hotel was once the palace of a fae queen before she had a new residence built following the war that united the humans and fae. Seeing the hotel for the first time now, I believe those rumors are likely true. Everything about the Seven Sins is palatial, from its construction of sandstone and white marble to the elegant towers glittering with sunlight.
The streets and sidewalks grow more crowded the closer I get to the hotel, the establishments far finer to compete with the high-priced vices that the Seven Sins offers. Here, pedestrians wear their finest daytime attire complete with straw hats or parasols to defend against the relentless heat. I feel somewhat out of place with my dressed-down evening wear, but no one pays me much heed.
I reach the wall outside the hotel and cross under yet another sunstone arch. Here it’s even busier with patrons coming and going or lounging by the palm-shaded pools flanking the red tile walkway that splits an enormous courtyard in two. The walkway leads to the main entrance—Department Pride. Adjoining Pride is Department Sloth, where all the suites are located. If the rumors are true, these two departments comprise what was once the original palace, while the remaining five buildings stand separate, divided by small alleyways. My fingers flinch as my gaze locks onto one particular building to the right, a marble behemoth of twelve floors topped with a gold-plated pyramid. Although I’ve never laid eyes on the building before now, Department Greed is well renowned as the largest, most extensive gambling house in all of Faerwyvae.
Shame mingles with a sharp yearning for quick wins, easy money, and the spike of euphoria that comes with both. Being so close to card tables, roulette wheels, and betting machines is all it takes to set my teeth on edge. It was bad enough having to follow the runaway princess’ scent through Lumenas, a city with its fair share of vice. But this…this is worse. Everything inside me begs to enter that building, to try my luck at dice before unleashing my true talents at the Poker and Doubt tables. Where one’s lies are whispered to me on the winds of scent fluctuations, where I can’t possibly lose—
No.
I stop myself midstep, realizing I’d already begun heading for Department Greed.
Even after everything I’ve lost, after everything I’ve done, the dark allure is still so strong. I should know better. And I do. I also know that Greed is unlike any other gambling hall. There are very few limits to what one can wager. Not only money but limbs, teeth, lives. So long as it is one’s own property, it can be placed on the table. The danger of such a gamble should turn my stomach. Instead, I can only think of the rewards I could receive if I bet everything left to my name—which is only my flesh, life, and blood—and won.
I clench my teeth so hard, pain pulses in my jaw.
I wonder if Queen Tris had any inkling as to where my mission would lead me. She knows why I lost Davenport Estate. She knows I gambled everything my father had left me in a bet that was supposed to be a sure win. If shedidknow I’d be forced to confront such temptations on my mission, then she’s a crueler woman than I thought. Then again, perhaps that’s why she offered me such a favorable bargain.
With a deep inhale, I reconnect to my target’s scent trail, the whiff of apple blossoms and dew stronger now, saturating this very walking path, circling around every building. I tear myself away from the lure of Department Greed and follow the faintest scents first, acquainting myself with the areas Miss Snow first frequented upon arriving at the hotel. I don’t enter any of the buildings yet. Instead, I put my hands in my pockets and stroll at a leisurely pace like the other visitors and guests, skirting around the enormous structure of the combined Pride and Sloth, then Gluttony. I weave around Department Envy with its four stories boasting the latest fashions and finest wares in every window. Then I pass the single story that is Department Wrath, rumored to host an underground fighting pit. Finally, I reach Department Lust. Here Miss Snow’s scent is condensed, trailing all the way back to the first time she arrived, with the freshest still hanging in the air from no less than an hour ago. I stop outside the main entrance and stare up at the six stories, each lined with crimson shutters.
So she’s a courtesan now.
Excitement bubbles in my chest. For one glorious moment, it feels too easy. I picture myself entering the building, requesting a night with Miss Snow, and completing my mission in the privacy of a pillowed room, where any shouts of alarm can be muffled by the sounds of pleasure emanating from behind adjoining walls.
It would be over so quickly. Quick enough that I won’t have time to lament. To dread. To hate myself for the gruesome act I must commit.
Logic invades my mind, sending my hope fleeing as I realize it won’t be as simple as I imagined. The girl won’t be going by her true name here. And if I don’t have her name, I can’t request her at all, for I have no physical description of her to give.
It didn’t take long for me to understand why no one was able to find Astrid Snow before Queen Tris called on my services. The princess’ scent was faint by the time I arrived at Fairweather Palace to investigate, but thank the All of All it hadn’t disappeared completely. Had I simply followed the queen’s description of her runaway stepdaughter, I never would have found her.
Skin like the eldest of trees. Hair like the first pink blossom of spring. Lips like the reddest poppy.
I was confused over why the queen would describe her stepdaughter’s appearance so much like her own when Miss Snow is only a princess through marriage, not blood. Even stranger was the fact that the princess was the daughter of a renowned painter-turned-king yet had never had her likeness captured in portrait. The princess’ maid, a human girl named Marybeth, was the only person who offered anything helpful at all. I’d requested interviews with the palace staff who’d been closest to the princess, and none had given me anything useful. Not until I spoke to Marybeth.
“You will not know her by sight,” the human girl said during our private interview. The way she kept her voice to a whisper, eyes darting wildly about as she spoke, told me such intel was known by few. Perhaps not even by the queen. “She will look different to you than she does to the queen, or anyone else for that matter.”
Based on that, I’ve determined Miss Snow must be a glamourist. And if she has any wits at all, she’ll most certainly be using a new glamour by now. Just like she did in Lumenas. While there, I followed her scent to a matchmaker’s office, where a fae female claimed to have employed a young woman for two weeks. All she remembered of my target’s appearance was the striking purple of her irises—the same shade as her own. Everything else she said revolved around what a swindling thief the girl was, which was why she dismissed her from her employ with a threat to turn her over to the city patrol officers as well. I find it rather odd that the woman only remembered one physical feature about Miss Snow—the feature the woman herself possessed—while everything else she described were personality traits. Perhaps the fugitive knows how to weave a forgettable glamour.
Regardless, I’ll need to catch a glimpse of the princess’ newest disguise if I am to request her company.
Keeping my attention fixed firmly on my target’s scent, I round the building, leaving the main walkway to pass through the alley between Lust and Wrath. It lets out to an expansive garden brimming with fragrant roses, lilies, trailing jasmine, and other plants not often seen in the desert. The floral aroma is so heady that it overpowers Miss Snow’s scent—and sends a throbbing to my skull in the process. I exhale, releasing my hold on the scent trail as I hurry past the noxious garden and enter the alley on the opposite side of the building between Lust and the towering perimeter wall. Breathing in again, I pick up the scent, surprised to find it startlingly potent.
I know she’s there, even before I see her.
My heart thuds heavily in my chest as one of the alleyway doors opens to reveal a petite figure. I freeze as she steps into the alley and kneels beside a waste bin. She’s facing away from me, so I can’t make out her features, nor can I see what she’s doing. My fingers flinch at my sides, my pulse hammering as I consider thatthismight be the time to act.Thismight be my best chance to fulfill the bargain I made. But no matter how many times I’ve reasoned that it must be done, it’s one thing to commit to it and another to actually do it, especially when faced with my target for the first time. She’s so much smaller than I expected her to be. And her scent…it’s…changed. Or perhaps it’s only grown more complex now that we’re so close. There’s something sweeter in the bouquet. Something softer.
I shake the notion from my mind and remind myself why I’m here.
Bring me her heart and you’ll be free.
I curl my fingers into fists and start down the alley, my steps even. Casual. Silent. She keeps her back to me as she sets something on the ground. I take another step closer. Another. My next step brings us only a sparse few feet away. Just then, she rises to her feet and turns halfway around. Now I can glimpse her profile, but all my eyes seem to register is her posture. Her shoulders are relaxed, her arms cradled around a white bundle of fluff. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a kitten. There are three more mewling around her ankles, plus a too-thin mother cat eating from a bowl Miss Snow must have placed on the ground. I try to study my target’s face, but all I can make out is the curve of her jaw, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she brings the kitten to her cheek and nuzzles it.
I halt again, noting another strange shift in her fragrance. No, not a shift. A…scent memory. A familiarity. I shake my head. Of course her scent is familiar. I’ve been following it for two damn weeks. And yet, there’s something different about it. Something I can’t quite—
