“Oh yes, Fire. I waited. But no matter. I’m here now.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe you’d give me something that valuable for free?”
His smile is sharp and smoldering. “Not for free.” He plants a hand on either side of my head, caging me in. “I would’ve traded for it.”
I swallow hard. “What, another dance?” My heart races, and I lean back more, desperate to get away—but all it does is press me deeper into the shelves. I can feel the bumps of each individual binding. Fire swelters beneath my skin.
He shakes his head. “No, not a dance.”
My throat tightens. “What, then?”
“A kiss.”
Panic flares. My heart thunders against my ribs. “A kiss?” I echo, my voice thinner than I intend. My fingers clench tighter around the book against my chest, but it isn’t enough to hide the heat rising beneath my skin.
He nods once, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. The touch is featherlight—dangerous not because it burns but because it soothes. And I hate how my body betrays me, leaning into his touch.
“I…” I start—and then falter. A flicker of memory surges in my mind.
Splinters of hay against my back. The pressure of rough hands. A horse’s scream shattering the night.
My stomach churns. I can’t breathe.
Frowning, the king draws back, to my surprise and relief.
“Fire…” His voice is tender. “Are you—”
But I cut him off. “What makes you think I want or need your help?” I hiss through gritted teeth, choosing anger over whatever feelings these are.
“I think,” he says, voice curling like smoke, “that you’ll find it’s a bargain, given how unlikely you are to win the Trial without it.”
“I don’t want to win. I just want to survive.”
He nods in silent understanding. A few beats pass. Then, “I’ve observed this Trial almost three hundred times. So trust me, it’s better to hear what I have to say.”
Three hundred years—well, technically, six hundred years—of waiting, of being cursed, of getting your hopes up every two years that your torment finally might end. I can’t imagine how awful that must be.
Wait,am I feeling sorry for him?No, I refuse to. And I refuse to accept his help. But he’s offering me a way to survive. He wants to help me.
Or he’s full of shit and just trying to sample the goods before the dragon has another chance to devour us.
But the way he’s looking at me hints at something more. And if what I’ve read about making deals in enchanted places is true, there’s always room to bargain for more. He steps forward again, slower this time.
Is a kiss the price of my dignity? Is it worth whatever secret he’s going to share?
Marb said the first Trial was the easiest. Could I pass it without his help?
“Am I forbidden from sharing this secret?” I ask, eyeing him. Whatever it is, that information could very well help the others, too. I could always hear him out first and then determine if it’s worth a kiss—and risk his wrath if I decide it isn’t. Either way, I’ll most likely be dead soon, so what’s the point of sparing my pride?
“This secret will be yours to keep or share, as you see fit.”
His lips are inches away from mine now, so close that I can feel his hot breath and smell the sweet scent of leather,smoke,and mint.
“Tell me the secret first,” I say, “and then I’ll decide if it’s worth a kiss.”
He grins roguishly. “Tricky little fox. That’s not how deals work. Unless you’re implying your kisses can kill?”
I clutch the book closer. He’s better at wordplay than I am, but the longing in his eyes tells me I could push him to give me what I need—and then some.
