“I swear I didn’t use magic.”
“Regardless of whether you did or didn’t, scazza, I want the king to hear how you chose a pest over your fellow man.AndI demand two gold pieces to replace the upholstery and fix the damaged hull.”
I blanch because I don’t have that sort of money. Oh, Gods, what have I gotten myself into?
I scan the darkened houses and cobbled streets for the burnt face with the milky eyes.Please, Bronwen, be behind this. Please, help.
But aside from Cato, who has started to haggle with the nobleman over the price of repairs, dragging the amount down to one gold piece, no blind soothsayer sweeps in to save the night.
After the amount is settled, Cato steers his boat toward me and gestures for me to embark.
“I can walk—”
“Get innow, Fallon.” His jaw is stone, his tone, too.
Timeus watches me, arms folded in front of his expensive clothes that reveal so much of his chest that he looks like a harlot. I’m surprised he’s not rubbing his palms together.
The day I’ll be your queen . . .
Firing off a look that I hope carries every last ounce of my contempt, I take Cato’s proffered hand and hop into his boat. “Where are we going? To the palace or to my home? You know what? Let’s head to the palace.” I’d much prefer to face the king than my grandmother.
One corner of Cato’s mouth tugs up.
“Smile away. I know she terrifies you, too,” I mutter.
Cato snorts.
Terrifies and fascinates him.
I wonder for a moment what life would be like with a man in the house. Not just a man . . . Cato.
Nice, I decide.
If only Cato had the courage to ask her out, but between his much younger age and his station, I doubt Nonna would accept his advances.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I start hoping she’s fed my gifted gown to the ocean so that I have an ace to play when she blows up at me. Because shewillblow up. Hopefully, her anger won’t make the wisteria vines strangle the walls of our house because, however much I love seeing the sky, I do love having a roof over my head.
Thinking of crumbling houses makes me think of Timeus, which in turn makes me think of Catriona and the going rate of maidenheads.
“Did the marquess specify the amount of time I have to pay my debt?”
“I took the liberty to negotiate monthly payments.”
“Of . . .”
“Of ten silvers.”
My eyes bulge. “Ten silverspermonth? I maketwoat the tavern.” And one of those is used for food. The other goes into an emergency pot that covers home repairs, clothes, and shoes.
Speaking of shoes . . . I stare down at my bare toes, realizing the slippers I lost tonight were my only pair.
Catriona’s words tumble through my mind, both alluring and revolting. In the end, the revulsion of reddening some stranger’s sheet wins over the allure. I didn’t refuse Antoni to end up spreading my legs for someone who isn’t Dante.
What if the highest bidder is Dante, though?
On the heel of that thought comes a sobering one: what if the highest bidder turns out to be the commander? Oh, the joy that man would take in hurting and humiliating me.
I cannot take the risk. Not to mention, I cannot bear the idea of Dante paying me for sex. How can I become someone fit to be queen,hisqueen, if I act like a tramp?
