A scowl marred her chapped lips. “What kind of interrogation is this?” she snapped. “Of course, I can read!”
That would be one less thing he would need to worry about.
Despite her outraged protest, the pieces locked into place. He considered every risk, every consequence, and the inevitable disaster this mad plan could lead to if a single wrong step were made. It was most likely to fail.
Although, what other options did he have? In weeks to come, royals from around the world would be visiting the palace, and their kingdom couldn’t afford to have the princess injured or killed as the main event. The crown did not need a tragedy to unfold before their tentative allies.
If he was going to protect the princess and the safety of their kingdom’s borders, he couldn’t allow this opportunity to slip by.
Cedricstepped back, his arm falling to his side, but he side-stepped to block the only exit. The woman gingerly peeled herself away from the wall and picked up the cap from the ground.
“Look, if it’s your coins you want, you can have them—”
“I actually wish to talk,” he cut in with a brusque edge.
Nin laughed, a strained sound, and guilt flashed through him at the red mark he left on her neck. “Men like you don’t want to justtalk.”
“Fortunately for you, I’m not like most men,” he nodded toward her person. “Keep the coins. There will be more if you stay and listen to my proposition.”
She eyed him warily, stealing a glance at the exit behind him. If he didn’t make his case soon, he might lose the opportunity altogether if she bolted. It would be unwise to delay.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back. “I require a substitute for Her Highness, Princess Marianne.”
They regarded each other in stark silence.
Cedric knew this was an impulsive offer—desperate even to consider a stranger he had just met, but perhaps madness was the answer.
“A what?” She gave an owlish blink.
“I need you to take the princess’s place,” he explained. “Your resemblance is near exact, and you will assume her likeness and serve as her counterpart.”
The thief barked out a howling laugh. Gradually, the chuckling transformed into chortles as she threw her head back andslapped her knee. Cedric bit back the urge to snap at her for mocking him and maintained his composure.
When she finally ceased snickering, Nin peered up at him, meeting his grave, unamused expression. She straightened. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Regrettably,” he admitted tightly, already questioning his choice. “This is no laughing matter, either. The princess is in danger, and you would serve as the perfect stand-in.”
The thief’s mouth parted, her eyes blinking in rapid succession. “You want me to… play princess?” She scoffed and waved her dirty sleeve between them. “Are you blind? Do I look like princess material to you?”
“Your clothing can be easily replaced,” he answered, unfazed. Her clothing would be the least of his concerns.
“Look, Monsieur, I don’t make deals with crazy people—”
Cedric exhaled an impatient breath. It appeared something more persuasive was required. He withdrew another, heavier bag from within his coat pockets. The coins clinked within the drawstring purse, and her head snapped to the sound almost comically, like a stray dog catching the scent of meat on the wind.
“It seems you do not understand the gravity of the situation. I am the Captain of the Princess’s Guard, and if you accept,” he said, rattling the coins, “you would be given more than this bag could ever hold: food, clothing, and a home to call your own. Her Highness will reward you graciously.”
Nin took a hesitant step forward, her eyes glazing with a hungry glint. Cedric sensed an imminent victory until she tore herself away with a vehementshake of her head.
“No… I can’t accept whateverthisis,” she said, stepping back and lifting her chin. She folded her arms across her chest, “I’m not a puppet for whatever mess you nobles created. I’m no princess, and I never will be.”
Disappointment flashed within him. He withdrew the bag and placed it back where it belonged in his coat. Then, tilted his head, dissecting the determination etched on her features.
Her refusal struck him harder than he wished to admit. The Maker seemed to have handed him a miracle on a platter, only for the girl to have the sense of a kicked alley cat. For once, he had found a real plan, the one sliver of hope he’d seen in this forsaken place, and she was destroying it with one word.
However, he had learned long ago not to rely on the fragility of ideas. Another could be made, but he wasn’t going to give up on this one so easily.
“Very well,” he said.
