Page 40 of Heartbreak Prince

“Nothing too expensive,” I caution, but he’s already prancing away.

While he’s amusing himself, I pick out black pants and jackets for both of us, along with a bodysuit that I can wear under the jacket. I also grab a tight-fitting brown dress with slits up to my thighs, ideal for fighting. The halter-style top of the dress leaves my back bare, so I can also wear it to more elegant events like dinners or parties, should the occasion arise. My current pauldron and leather chest-piece will fit over it nicely.

With the cold climate in mind, I drape two heavy cloaks over my arm and select a couple pairs of fingerless gloves. Then I search the cluttered floors of the shop, hunting for Vawn again.

He’s easy to spot, with his head swathed in a Xarsian-style wrap. When I wave to him, he heads my way, his eyes shining over the fold of fabric across his mouth.

As soon as he’s within speaking distance, he starts exclaiming over what he has found. “Look at these chokers. Cheap but badass. Silver spikes for me, studs for you. A few extra belts—you can never have too many belts. I need this shirt, and this one. Love these necklaces, chains, and bracelets. Not as fine as my other jewelry, but I like the style. Look at this one! It fits over the whole hand, four rings connected by chains. Good protection for the finger joints, good for punching, and there are even some simple glyphs to boost energy.” His eyes finally meet mine again, and he must read the disapproval in my gaze, because he adds defensively, “The jewelry will help us blend in here. Everyone in this city accessorizes. If we don’t, we’ll stand out.”

“You’re not wrong.” I sigh, tallying up the cost in my head. “Fine, we’ll get them. And we’ll need a couple of satchels, too, big ones for traveling. And a carrying case for the carpet. And a better pair of boots for you.”

Somehow, in the process of selecting those last few items, I also end up with a pink corset top and a set of spiked puff sleeves for my upper arms—chosen by the prince, of course. As we’re paying for our vast quantity of merchandise, he snatches two boxes of charna cigarettes from the stand next to the counter and throws those in as well.

We’re the last customers, and even though I can tell the owner is eager to close up shop, he graciously lets us have a few minutes to pack our purchases into our satchels and put the carpet into its case. Like most of our items, the carpet case was previously used, and one of the three clasps is broken, but two should be enough to keep it secure, and the straps will make it easy to carry.

I’m tempted to ask the shop owner for inn recommendations, but if anyone traces our steps, I don’t want to leave a trail for them. Instead I tow Vawn along the windy, crowded streets of Zeletas, up stairs and down slopes, through windy arches and between stone buildings, until I locate a modest-looking inn off a quiet square. There’s a bakery across the way, and the shops of a seamstress and laundress nearby as well. The high-profile tourists won’t come here, but it’s not a collection of hovels, either. It is perfectly non-descript.

“Have you finally found a place that satisfies you?” Vawn says wearily.

“I have. Come along, boy.” I take him by one of his new necklaces, a black chain, and pull him toward the inn door.

“I’m not a boy, nor am I a pet to be led around on a leash,” he protests.

“Spoken with the petulance of a toddler,” I say, just to pique him.

We step into the foyer of the inn, a dimly lit room cluttered with overshoes, shawls, and wraps. Beyond the gloomy foyer, through the arch, lies a warm, firelight common room, with pleasant voices engaged in conversation.

Before I can proceed into the common area, the prince drops what he’s carrying, grabs my arm, and shoves me back against the shawls and coats. He leans in, one hand planted against the wall by my head, his pale eyes glittering. With his free hand, he tugs down the edge of the black cloth over his lower face, revealing his mouth and nose.

“I am not the worthless idiot you think I am.” His low tone is bitter and menacing. “My father considered me a waste of space, an eternal child with air for brains. I will not accept that treatment from you.”

He told me that he carried a lot of anger, and even though instinctive caution courses through my body, I’m not truly afraid of him. This fury isn’t really directed at me or my teasing; it’s part of the complicated storm of his emotions for his family.

Still, the contrast between his earlier delight and his current mood unsettles me a little, and the fingers of my right hand twitch against the hilt of my knife.

“I’m not your father,” I say.

“Trust me, I am very fucking aware of that fact.” He’s breathing hard against my mouth. A subtle thrill courses over the entire surface of my body, tightening my breasts to peaks and turning my core liquid.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask hoarsely. “That you’re smart? That you’ve done well today? Do you need praise?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I would simply like to be consulted about decisions now and then, instead of constantly feeling as if I need to ask permission from someone I’ve known such a short time.”

I shut my eyes briefly, if only to give myself respite from the blaze of his furious beauty. “That’s fair.”

“It really is.”

“But I have consulted you about things.”

“Have you? Or have you merely talked them through aloud in front of me, and then made the decisions yourself?”

“It’s my job to protect you—”

“I know, I know. I’m a burden to you, and I’m a nuisance to everyone else. Maybe I should have jumped from the bridge tonight. That would have freed you from your tiresome duties and saved the assassins the trouble of tracking me down and slitting my throat. A handful of people might miss me, but a good dick and a pretty face are easily replaced.”

Each phrase cuts far deeper than it should, carving itself into a raw, sensitive place on my heart. When I imagine the brilliance of him being snuffed out, I can’t bear it.

“Vawn!” I grasp his shirt convulsively with one hand. “Don’t. Please.” I slant my gaze away from his, fighting the sting of tears.