No.
No, it couldn’t be.
Instinct howled warnings to the pulse beneath her skin.
This was the man who’d chased her last night.
Calliope’s breath trapped between her heart and her lips. She forced her face into what she hoped was her carefully crafted shop owner’s smile, trying her best to keep her tone as unruffled as possible. “Can I help you, sir?”
He took a step inside, his sharp gaze sweeping over her shelves with a detachment that almost raised her hackles. The door shutting behind him sent another shudder through her, and she shot a quick glance at Prince, but the hound merely lifted his head at the man and dropped his muzzle back onto his paws.
Some help you are, you big traitor.
“A candle shop.” His dark eyes circled back to meet hers. “Interesting.”
Er, what could possibly be so interesting about a candle shop? Unless he suspected she was the person from last night? But how? Had they glimpsed her enter here and allowed her a false sense of victory? Questions flooded her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.
No, Calliope.
She couldn’t lose her nerve. Not before the axe fell on her neck. Only then.
“Indeed,” she murmured. She could feel the strain around the corners of her smile, so she moved behind the counter to distract herself, placing a rather obvious amount of distance between them. He seemed unbothered, but she sensed amusement from him, though she couldn’t be sure. Humor certainly didn’t show on his face. Or his eyes. “Would you perhaps like to purchase a batch of candles?”
Not even a twitch. “I’m not here as a customer.”
Lord, oh, lord.
“Oh?” Prince, seeming to pick up on her discomfort, rose to his feet, staring the man with ears pricked.Good boy.“Then what brings you to my humblecandleshop?”
The dark devil didn’t waste any time in reaching into his coat, and a jolt of fear dashed through her. How could it not? The man was... something else. A being of his own. Would he pull out a pistol? A dagger? But instead of a weapon, he withdrew something small and delicate, holding the object up between his fingers.
A slipper.
Herslipper.
But not justanyslipper. The satin footwear was the only item she still owned from that house. A symbol of the girl who had escaped a nightmare. The girl who dreamed. The girl who claimed her freedom. The sight hit her like a stone to the chest, and she nearly snatched her shoe from him in horror.
Fortunately, she caught herself just in time.
Do not reveal yourself!
The man’s gaze sharpened nonetheless.
Urgh. She couldn’t be sure for he said not a word. Just stared.
And stared.
No.Studied.
She cleared her throat.Get hold of yourself, Calliope.“Why are you showing me a shoe?”
“It’s my hope that you might recognize who the slipper belongs to and point me to its owner.”
How casually framed. And stars, she hated the way the roughness of his voice threaded along her nerves.
Focus!
How had her shoe ended up in his hand in the first place?
