Page 11 of Heartbreak Prince

So… we have no money. We could try to pawn one of his rings, I suppose, but they’re of exquisite quality, engraved with personalized symbols to slightly elongate the effect of his glyphs. Any pawn shop owner would be immediately suspicious, and it wouldn’t take them long to figure out Vawn’s identity. Same thing for the fine necklaces and bracelets he’s wearing. They scream royalty. Considering the speed at which news travels in Kyr, the capital city of Belavrin, that jewelry will already be too hot for any broker to touch.

The prince is an artificient, which means he possesses the rare and lucrative ability to paint effective glyphs on his own nails or those of other people. When I witnessed him painting the enhancements on the hooves of the carriage horses, he appeared to be quite skilled. But in order to practice artifiency in Belavrin, one must have an active license and seals of reference from previous clients, and he has neither. The documents can be faked, of course, but we have no time to procure false seals and find prospective clients. Besides, he would have to reveal his face. No one in their right mind would allow a masked person to paint a glyph set on their fingertips.

“Do you have money?” the prince asks. “Whatever you spend to secure my protection, I’ll see that you’re reimbursed.”

“I don’t have money. I was counting on getting paid tonight so I could make rent.”

He frowns. “You must have some resources. Your boots are custom-made, are they not? And your glyph set is a little worn, but it’s a pricey one. How did you get the money for it?”

“I earned it.”

“I thought you just graduated from the Academy. That program is rigorous. You couldn’t possibly have paid your tuition, earned top marks in your classes, and simultaneously held a job that would pay for a nail set like that.”

My pride wants to conceal the truth, but if his life is in danger, we’re going to need to get away from Kyr as soon as possible, which means making fast money, discreetly, the only way I know how. At the Pink Lycan Peep Show.

3

As we walk through the forest, Vawn pulls a slim box of charna cigarettes and a silver lighter from his pocket. He lights one of the cigarettes and takes a drag, exhaling pink smoke that turns blue and purple as it twines higher into the chilly gloom. “Are you going to confess?”

“Confess?” I scoff a little. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in the clearing, I asked how you paid for a glyph set and tuition if you’re so impoverished. Since then, you’ve been very quiet.”

“I’m usually quiet. Bodyguards are trained to be unobtrusive and silent.”

Vawn inhales from the cigarette again and shakes his head. “This is a different kind of silence. It’s a sorting-things-out, ashamed-of-yourself, not-sure-how-to-tell-me-the-truth silence. Were you a prostitute? An escort for dirty old noblemen? You could do better, lovely.”

“I wasn’t a prostitute.”

“But?”

“But… I did things that wouldn’t look good on my bodyguard application.”

“Do tell.” He sidles closer, peering into my face. “Were you an assassin for hire, darling? Did you run emthal or zigash for the gangs? Cheat in the gambling dens?”

I don’t want to tell him, even though I’m not ashamed of the choices I’ve made to get where I am. Well… maybe there’s a little shame, but it mostly stems from the way that members of the higher classes look down on sex work, in spite of the fact that they tend to be our best customers.

“You were a pirate,” suggests Vawn. “A smuggler. An enforcer for a loan group.”

Just to shut him up, I blurt it out. “I was a peep show dancer at the Pink Lycan.”

“The Pink Lycan? I’ve heard that name before. Where is it?”

“In the Vermilion Quarter, on the edge of the Brasspool District.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right near the river?”

I squirm. “Yes.” Please don’t say you’ve been there…

“I’ve never patronized that particular establishment, but Loxley loves it. Racy and affordable, he says. I do believe he pays a monthly membership to enjoy all the offerings there. And to think you were one of them!” He crows a loud laugh. “So when the two of you met tonight, neither of you realized that he has probably seen your cun—”

I drop the carpet and slam my hand across his mouth, walking him backward until he hits a tree trunk. He’s almost a head taller than me, but I feel dominant in this moment, towering with fury.

He doesn’t push me off, and for a frozen instant, I glare at him, feeling his soft lips against my palm, trying to ignore the warmth of his breath.

When I take my hand away, the prince swallows hard. “That was uncalled for, I’m sorry. I understand why you did it. The fates gave you a beautiful body. You’d be a fool not to use all your assets to get the things you want in life.”

“To get a chance.” My heart is thundering, and my voice fractures. “You have no idea where I come from or what I’ve had to do. You were born with every resource, every advantage. You’ve never had to risk your health, your sanity, and your body for the opportunities that seem to come so easily to others.”