My eyes flash. “Don’t call me that,” I whisper fiercely.
He studies my face closely, leaning in to discern more clearly in the phosphorescent gloom. “What should I call you then?”
“I don’t care. Just…not that.” Unable to hold his gaze, I letmy eyes drop to his mouth instead. His full lips are slightly parted. And far closer to mine than they have any right to be. “I’m not a princess. I’m not who they think I am.”
His expression darkens. “You are.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. And now men are dead. Because of me. Because of some belief about me that couldn’t possibly be true.”
“You are Princess Roselle Pandracor.” The words are hard with conviction.
“And how would you know?” I snap, drawing back a pace. “How would any of them know? I’ve been Rosie Harpwood all my life, and that’s the only version of me I know. So far, they’ve not produced one shred of evidence that I have any connection to this fabled Dragon Princess of theirs.”
I feel his gaze, hot as summoned hellfire, studying me. For a long moment, he simply stands there, saying nothing, and I wonder if I can find the courage to push past him and flee into the passage. Then: “Your eyes.”
“What?” I blink. “Oh, you mean because I can see in the dark? That’s hardly evidence. Those with elf or dwarf blood can see just as well as I. Any number of Utherfolk boast night-sight, all of them much more likely to breed with humans than a dragon. So what?”
But Valtar shakes his head, as though this isn’t what he meant at all. Before he can say anything more, I glimpse movement in the passage. Finally my guards seem to have noticed that all is not well between me and my champion. They don’t barge onto the balcony, but they make their presence known. My confidence rises at their proximity, and I lift my chin defiantly. “You would be wise not to waste your efforts on the upcoming trials, Prince. It’s not worth it.I’mnot worth it.”
With those words, I make as though to step around him and escape. But his voice rumbles close to my ear, “How do you know?”
“I told you, I’m not the—”
“How do you know what you are worth?”
I open my mouth but stop. No words will come. Not now. Not caught in the focus of that black-eyed stare.
Valtar moves nearer, so near I could very easily close the space between us, lunge up on my toes, and plant my mouth on his. If I wanted to. Which I absolutely do not.
And yet, why does my gaze, entirely against my will, keep drifting back to his lips?
“You do not get to dictate your worth in my eyes,” he says. His voice is low like a threat, yet somehow warms me straight to my core with sparks of tingling electricity. “If I deem the risk worth the reward, that is my business, not yours.”
I grimace. “Thereisno reward. Don’t you understand? You’ve all been summoned here under false pretenses, and—”
I break off as, in that very instant, a high-pitched screaming fills the air, followed by a deluge of dust and debris straight into my eyes.
13
Rosie
Spreading lichen obscures my view of whatever is making the racket. I leap back to the balcony rail, wiping dust from my eyes, and turn to peer up the wall, searching for the source of that ceaseless, earsplitting scream. “Light!” I command, and thescintilsilluminate once more, momentarily dazzling my eyes. But when the initial flare fades, and my blinking vision clarifies, I see it: a small gremler caught by its tail in the sticky web of a cave spider high overhead.
“Oh!” I cry. “How horrible!”
Valtar joins me at the rail and looks where I point. “It’s a gremler,” he says.
“I know! And it’s going to be killed if I don’t get to it before the spider does!”
He glances sideways at me. “That’s…a good thing. Gremlers are pests. They’re destructive to magic stores. A brood of gremlers can wipe out an entire winter’s supply of magic in a few weeks.”
“This isn’t a brood of gremlers.” I snap. “It’s one gremler. And a baby at that!” Tipping my head, I stare up at the struggling creature again, trying to gauge the height from the balcony to where it swings helplessly, caught in those sticky cords. “I’m going to get it,” I declare firmly, even as my fingers move to unfasten the ties securing my skirts in place.
I’ve just pulled the ties free and dropped the heavy outer skirt to the ground, when there’s a sudden eruption of movement. Three guards spill out onto the balcony, led by Captain Norlan. Only then do I stop to consider what an odd sight it must seem to them: me standing there in my petticoats, having ripped my clothes off in broad view of all and sundry, while Valtar pointedly backs away, his eyebrows raised, hands up and palms out in silent protest. I look at the guards and blink, stumped for an explanation. “Um…”
Captain Norlan clears his throat, taking care not to look at my lacy undergarments. “May I be of any assistance, Princess?”
“Um,” I try again, then point. “It’s a gremler.”
