“I hadn’t guessed.”He’d seemed amused.“Happy hunting, little lioness.”
He’s silent now, thankfully.
“You don’t want to speak with Rhykus,” the Mouse assures me, turning toward the stairs. “He’s none too happy with you.”
“Wait!” I rush the bars, fingers curling into my palm as I force myself not to be too desperate. “I could… I could make it worth your while. Please. Don’t leave me here. Not withhim.”
I cast a stricken look toward the enormous stranger in the cell beside me.
A stranger who is grinning unrepentantly as he rests his elbows on his knees.
I shoot a glare at him, where the Mouse can’t see it.If you thwart my escape attempt, I’ll return your knife, alright. I’ll shove it down your throat.
Bael laughs as if I spoke the words out loud.
“Listen.” The Mouse scrubs at his mouth. “Rhykus has plans for you. They’re not nice plans. He’s still upset about that knife you threw. Give it a few days, perhaps wait for his temper to settle. He’ll be well pleased after this afternoon’s auction.”
“I just want a chance to apologise to him. I’ve changed my mind. I could be a bride. He could sell me off. I can dance. And a man like you… I know you’ll speak for me. I heard you last night, stopping that evil man from hurting me. You were so brave.”
I vaguely remember the swaying of my mother’s people, the bells at their wrists and ankles, the undulation of their hips when they lit the fires and danced to the Blood Moon. It was a gift for the Gods, meant to distract them from their mayhem when the moon burned bloody.
My mother died before I was taught the moves, but I remember watching as Aylin laughed and tried to curve her fingers in the air the way mother did—and failed miserably.
She had no rhythm.
But I do.
“Watch.”
The Mouse turns, his expression resolute as I began to dance.
My eyes lock on him, wrists circling in the air above me, hips undulating in a sinuous rhythm only I can hear…
A sharp intake of breath comes from the left, from Bael.
But it’s the Mouse who is caught in my trap, his suspicion fading as I wrap a hand around the bars and lift myself in the air, one leg striking directly up so that my gauzy skirts fall around my thighs.
Locking gazes with him, I let myself slide to the ground, wilting forward, one palm splaying flat over the floor as I arch my back and lift my ass in a sinuous cat-curve and crawl toward him.
I have him.
I can see it in his eyes.
“Do you think I could be a bride?” I whisper.
“You make it worth my while,” he says, unbuckling his belt with one hand as he fumbles with the keys with his other hand, “and I’ll take you to Rhykus.”
“Of course,” I agree, sitting up, knees parting slightly as I entreat him to enter my cell.
Leather shifts in the cell beside me as if Bael leans forward, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the Mouse.
Eyes on me, little man.
“They don’t let you touch the girls, do they?” I whisper as he unlocks the cells. “You should get some reward for all the work you do down here. First dibs, perhaps?” I tug at a lace, revealing a little more slope of my breast. “Nobody has to know.”
The cell door creaks open.
The Mouse enters hesitantly, but I bite my lip, tugging the edge of my neckline lower, revealing the lace of my corset. His doubts fade as his eyes lock on the hint of rosy nipple there, and his breeches hit the floor.
