more, I despised making tactical mistakes.
But what bothered me the most was that I genuinely wanted to know. I, who had never cared about anything but myself, now wanted to know more about this strange man who was neither a Bludman nor royalty. It was a troubling impulse, and I straightened my back with renewed purpose. Use him for my goals and then keep my promise regarding his head on a platter—that was the plan. And if he was lucky, let him play the royal harpsichord, just once, in the most beautiful palace in the world. Just enough to make good on our agreement. Just enough to hear the beauty he could coax from its ancient, magical keys.
He turned to me with a scowl, hands on slim hips. “Most of the ships are full. Keen’s found us a metal-cladder, but I have to make the final arrangements. You two wait here. I’ll only be a moment.” He pinned Keen with a sharp glare. “If anything happens to her, it’s over.”
Keen wrinkled her nose and nodded sullenly as shesat beside me on the trunk with an unladylike slump. I watched Casper disappear into the milling crowd of tourists and sailors and hawk-eyed vendors. With a sudden thump, Keen collapsed, curled up on the trunk like a puppy, and began to snore softly. Confused by the behavior but glad to be free of her company, I closed my eyes and let the scents of hundreds of Pinkies invade me, noting the foreign spices and overlying stink of the ignorant herd and, somewhere nearby, just a whiff of magic.
“Strange, isn’t it?”
The voice was cultured, cool, and amused, and I looked up into the face of the first real Bludman I’d seen in Sangland.
My heart leaped to see sharp features and a cloudy gaze, to know that I wasn’t alone in playacting among the prey. And my heart stayed right where it was, heavy in my throat, when I saw what an attractive Bludman he was. Spare but powerful, with shadowy gray eyes dancing with excitement and smooth black hair pulled back under his hat. He could have been a prince, with a face like that. Oddly, a Pinky clung tightly to his arm, and her smell hung over him like a second skin.
“I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the stink of rabble, my lady. And to think that they aren’t even aware of two foxes in the henhouse. Or two snow foxes among the bludlemmings, perhaps.” His mouth quirked up, and he winked.
I went on alert immediately and barely stopped myself from hissing as I stood to face him. Was I that easy to recognize? Was he an assassin? Would I have to kill him right here?
“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, my accent making my words all the colder.
“Honestly, Crim. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” The Pinky smiled at me in an oddly kindfashion and stroked one gloved hand down his arm in the same manner I would use to calm an overexcited bludmare.
“Forgive me, then, princess. My name is Criminy Stain, and I’m at your service.” He swept a practiced bow and rose with a bouquet of snow-white flowers in hand. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I glanced around. The crowd was oblivious, as if they couldn’t even see us. My eyes narrowed at him, but his smile was bright, and I couldn’t sense a bit of aggression. Still, I didn’t take the flowers.
“How did you guess?”
“I’m the proprietor of a traveling caravan, and my wife is a fortune-teller. Our train is stopped just outside of Dover, and a glance last night informed her that we would find you here. I couldn’t miss a chance to meet you, my dear. I wish you only the best.”
“What do you want? Money?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “What is money to me? No, pet. I wanted only to see you myself and give you a gift.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Flowers?”
He shook his head and clapped his hands together. The bouquet of white blooms exploded in a shower of glittering snow. With a sudden jolt of homesickness, I reached out to catch the falling flakes, but they were neither cold nor wet and simply
But what bothered me the most was that I genuinely wanted to know. I, who had never cared about anything but myself, now wanted to know more about this strange man who was neither a Bludman nor royalty. It was a troubling impulse, and I straightened my back with renewed purpose. Use him for my goals and then keep my promise regarding his head on a platter—that was the plan. And if he was lucky, let him play the royal harpsichord, just once, in the most beautiful palace in the world. Just enough to make good on our agreement. Just enough to hear the beauty he could coax from its ancient, magical keys.
He turned to me with a scowl, hands on slim hips. “Most of the ships are full. Keen’s found us a metal-cladder, but I have to make the final arrangements. You two wait here. I’ll only be a moment.” He pinned Keen with a sharp glare. “If anything happens to her, it’s over.”
Keen wrinkled her nose and nodded sullenly as shesat beside me on the trunk with an unladylike slump. I watched Casper disappear into the milling crowd of tourists and sailors and hawk-eyed vendors. With a sudden thump, Keen collapsed, curled up on the trunk like a puppy, and began to snore softly. Confused by the behavior but glad to be free of her company, I closed my eyes and let the scents of hundreds of Pinkies invade me, noting the foreign spices and overlying stink of the ignorant herd and, somewhere nearby, just a whiff of magic.
“Strange, isn’t it?”
The voice was cultured, cool, and amused, and I looked up into the face of the first real Bludman I’d seen in Sangland.
My heart leaped to see sharp features and a cloudy gaze, to know that I wasn’t alone in playacting among the prey. And my heart stayed right where it was, heavy in my throat, when I saw what an attractive Bludman he was. Spare but powerful, with shadowy gray eyes dancing with excitement and smooth black hair pulled back under his hat. He could have been a prince, with a face like that. Oddly, a Pinky clung tightly to his arm, and her smell hung over him like a second skin.
“I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the stink of rabble, my lady. And to think that they aren’t even aware of two foxes in the henhouse. Or two snow foxes among the bludlemmings, perhaps.” His mouth quirked up, and he winked.
I went on alert immediately and barely stopped myself from hissing as I stood to face him. Was I that easy to recognize? Was he an assassin? Would I have to kill him right here?
“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, my accent making my words all the colder.
“Honestly, Crim. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” The Pinky smiled at me in an oddly kindfashion and stroked one gloved hand down his arm in the same manner I would use to calm an overexcited bludmare.
“Forgive me, then, princess. My name is Criminy Stain, and I’m at your service.” He swept a practiced bow and rose with a bouquet of snow-white flowers in hand. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I glanced around. The crowd was oblivious, as if they couldn’t even see us. My eyes narrowed at him, but his smile was bright, and I couldn’t sense a bit of aggression. Still, I didn’t take the flowers.
“How did you guess?”
“I’m the proprietor of a traveling caravan, and my wife is a fortune-teller. Our train is stopped just outside of Dover, and a glance last night informed her that we would find you here. I couldn’t miss a chance to meet you, my dear. I wish you only the best.”
“What do you want? Money?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “What is money to me? No, pet. I wanted only to see you myself and give you a gift.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Flowers?”
He shook his head and clapped his hands together. The bouquet of white blooms exploded in a shower of glittering snow. With a sudden jolt of homesickness, I reached out to catch the falling flakes, but they were neither cold nor wet and simply
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