Page 29 of Bounty Hunter

“How do you usually protect yourself on these bounty hunts?” I ask, as I continue to turn the meat. “I would think maybe you would have adopted something… bigger, for protection.” I eye the bird.

She pours the leftover seeds in her hand back into the small leather pouch, still not looking at me. “Rupi is the perfect companion.” Her voice is borderline defensive.

The bird turns its head slightly, like it understood my comment, and seems to give me a side eye of disdain, but the effect falls flat with the fluff surrounding its face.

She continues. “I accept contracts for work.” She pulls twostrings, and the bag cinches up, then she wraps her hands around the bag and looks up, her forearms resting on her knees and her eyes meeting mine for the first time since this afternoon. “I workwithbounty hunters, but am not officially one of them. As part of the contract, it is their job to offer me protection for the duration of the job, and in return, I offer them lucent magic. It’s always worked well enough—until now.” The emotion in her eyes is a mixture of guilt and independent attitude. I realize then that maybe she avoids making eye contact because her eyes reveal more than she likes.

“Why did you arrest me without a hunter?”

“I suppose I owe you that much, since I’ve put you in a bit of danger.” She bites the edge of her lip, and there’s that guilty flash in her eyes again before she directs her gaze to her fingers fiddling with the strings that tie the pouch of birdseed.

So, the womandoeshave a heart.

“I was supposed to go back to meet him. I was correct in assuming you’d follow me, and I thought I’d lead you right to him, but I didn’t account for the trap. You know the story from there.” Her nose wrinkles like she can still smell the sour of the goblins. I knowIcan.

“So, you’re a rule breaker.” I state the fact with a smug smirk. I can’t help it, the way she’s labeled me a criminal still irks.

Her eyes shoot up to meet mine, her brows rising in surprised denial and her mouth opening as if she’s about to defend herself. Then she realizes I’m right, and her lips press together with a frown. I cast her a knowing glance with an accusatory brow raise, but find myself enjoying the open emotion I see in her gaze and immediately shut down the desire to find more ways to initiate eye contact. This isn’t a game or a friendship.

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly.

“There’s a good chance we’ll both die out here if you keep me cuffed,” I say bluntly. She knows it as well as I.

“Almost done?” She gestures toward the rabbit with a jerk of her chin.

I decide to let the cuff situation drop for now. I know if I push her too hard, it’ll make it worse, so I simply nod. “What other types of contracts do you take?”

She fiddles with the small strings of her bag. “Healers and hunters, usually. Sometimes potion makers.”

“You don’t work with other Originators?” I ask, more curious than I should be about the woman across the fire.

Her eyes turn guarded. “No.”

I can tell she will not divulge anything further along that line of questioning. Why would an Originator not want to work with other Originators? I tuck the question away for later.

I decide to test the waters without directly inquiring. Now isn’t the time for me to offer her a contract, but I can still gather information.

“What about official kingdom contracts or permanent positions? Or working with armies, small missions, that type of thing?” I keep an innocent expression on my face. She has no need to know my position at this point.

Her gray eyes fill with ice, and the tense muscles that must have tightened in her shoulders have Rupi readjusting against the warmth of her neck. “I would never accept contracts for any official capacity. And I’m notnoble, so it’s impossible to find a permanent position anyway.”

Now, it’smybrows rising. What is the source of her disgust for official capacity jobs? They pay well. Many Originators compete for them, though I can understand her frustration about the limitations for lower class Originators. I’m not surewhen that started, years before my time, but something about being here with her has me wanting to look into it when I return.

“Why would you, who apparently loves to live life by the rules, have an issue with officials?” I ask lightly, like her answer won’t affect me, but my chest grows tight. If she refuses to work with me, I have to spend precious time finding another Originator. Time I don’t have, especially after being cuffed and lost for days. I don’t care if she’s noble or not. She appears to be powerful no matter her class.

She raises her gaze to mine. “You’re a mercenary, so I assume you don’t like officials—or shall we be clear and say it’s thekings—either, or you’d be working as an honorable soldier in one of the low or high royal armies. Right?” She looks at me, waiting. It smarts, but I choose not to be offended that she views me as less-than-honorable.

I lift my shoulders noncommittally, unwilling to outright lie. I’m not so sure now that I am prepared for her opinion when I see the ice in her eyes melt and fill with flames of fire.

“High Kings and almost all low kings are violent, selfish, wealthy, entitled, spoiled men who take and take from their people and are in constant search for more power. They allow needless murder and the poor to be mistreated and ignored. Look at the suffering of the kingdoms. What is there to like? Tell me one place that is thriving.” She hardly pauses for a breath before she continues, “Why should nobility refuse to take on a low-class Originator for a permanent position? It’s not just Originators, either. The lower class suffers across all forms of magic, and the kings have done nothing to help them or change it.”

I feel like she punched me in the chest. I want to argue with her. Many parts of the kingdom are doing relatively well,considering the circumstances of lucent and gloam, but can I say they are thriving? Probably not. The one thing I can’t argue at all is the fact that the suffering of the kingdomismy fault.

“I believe most kings are doing their best,” I respond carefully.

“Have you worked for one?” She sounds doubtful.

“I’ve been around a few,” I say vaguely. She doesn’t need to know that I know the other four kings personally. Or that I am, in fact, the High King she hates. “Have you met one, seen one, even?”

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