Page 21 of Flirting with Darkness

I’d been in such a rush to leave that I hadn’t been picky about what I took with me. I had just thrown everything into my pack. My instruments. Useless to these men—they wouldn’t even know where to sell them—but everything to me.

“There’s nothing you can eat or sell in there,” I said.

But they snatched the bag away anyway, rummaging through it. I cringed at the sound of carelessly clinking glass, punctuated by a few cracking shatters.

My heartbeat throbbed in my ears.

“Please,” I said. “Please. It’s worthless to you. I’ll give you—”

Gods, what could I offer them? I had nothing of value to give them in exchange. I had no money on me. Little at home, either. I didn’t even think to pack food, not that I thought these men would be satisfied with a single woman’s scraps of bread.

The boy, the one who held the knife to my throat, winced again. Guilt? Was that guilt? I so wished I was better at reading people.

“Keep that knife to her fucking throat, Filip,” the man snapped, then smiled at me—a horrible expression, like a snarling wolf. “What? What will you give us instead?”

“I—”

My mind wouldn’t work. The gears were sticky and slow with exhaustion. He reached for the bag again, and I said, “No. Please. I’ll give you double what it’s worth once I’m home.”

“Once you’re home?” the man scoffed. “Oh, I trust you.”

The other men laughed. Filip looked pained. My gaze flicked to his, though he avoided looking at me.

Mina would try to connect with him. She’d know what to say to make him let me go.

“Filip?”

His eyes lifted to mine, reluctantly.

I should have had some moving plea, some emotional words for him. But emotions and sentimentality had never been my strong suit. Instead I told him the truth.

“I’m not lying to you,” I said. “I will double what that bag is worth. I promise you.”

And I did, I really did, mean it.

But the older man’s smile curdled to a sneer. “Do you think we’re stupid, girl?”

I bit back a surge of frustration.

Why were humans so illogical? I was offering them a good deal. A good trade. More money. And yet I couldn’t make them believe me.

“We’ll take your dress instead,” the man said.

Filip’s grip on the knife loosened again. His head whipped to the man, like he was going to say something and then stopped himself.

I was confused. I looked down at myself. My dress might have been worth something a decade ago. Now it was old and stained, the hem tattered from my journey.

“The dress is worth nothing,” I said, annoyed. “I’m offering you a better deal.”

“I’ll take something I can have now over your empty promises.”

“But it’s—”

The man snatched the knife away from Filip, thrusting it against my throat. A shock of pain that seemed distant slithered over my skin. Something warm and wet ran down my throat. “I don’t need your fucking arguments,” the man hissed. “Take it off or I cut it off you.”

I was grateful for my irritation, because it dimmed my fear.

“I can’t take it off if you don’t give me room,” I said, attempting to move my hands to my buttons to demonstrate—he was in the way.

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