Page 18 of Ruthless Scoundrel
I scoff. “You think I’m stupid?”
“Yes,” she says, taking a seat on a nearby rock. “I think you’d be stupid trying to go on with your fingers like that.”
“I’d be stupid to let you out of your bonds. I know your magic, princess.” At least some of it. She can create fire, and heat. I don’t want to get burned.
She lifts her chin. “I’m not going to kill you.”
I laugh. “Right! And the gods have a palace for me in the afterlife.”
Her lips purse in frustration and she looks away. Heavy breaths pant through her nose and she crosses her bound arms. “I can’t kill you because then I’ll die too,” she says, quietly. “And I very much need to live.”
“You don’t think someone will come looking for you?” I ask, more sarcasm that I intend coming out in my tone.
Her head snaps toward me and she shoots to her feet. “Yes, someone will. And if she finds me, all could be lost.”
“So dramatic,” I huff.
“Fuck you and your quest for money! I have somethingrealto live for.” She clenches her fists and blue fire crawls beneath her skin. “And unfortunately, I haven’t been trained foranythingexcept how to be a good, obedient princess.
“How to sit up straight, keep my body beautiful, have good manners at the table, write and speak eloquent Fynish, but nothing of anyuse. I don’t know how to navigate the seas, how to forage or fish, find fresh water, or barter, nor do I have anything to barter with,” she exclaims, gesturing to her threadbare clothing.
Her gaze goes hard again. “Where are my clothes and things?”
“If I tried to smuggle you in all your finery, someone would’ve surely questioned me, or tried to steal you for themselves,” I say.
Blood swells in her cheeks and colors the tips of her ears. “You changed my clothes.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t answer.
“Did you violate me?”
“I may be a thief, but I am not a rapist,” I say, then scoff. “You’re not even my type.”
She’s quiet for a long time.
“Yes, I changed your clothes. No, I did not look at you or touch you inappropriately while I did.”
She sighs, some of it sounding like relief, but mostly annoyance. “Take off my binds so I can heal you.”
“No.” I bite the corner of my shirt and rip a strip off. The meat of my fingers is visible through the tears in my flesh in some areas. Blood slips down my arm and drips off my elbow. It’s a grisly sight.
“I’m incapable of surviving this ordeal alone. I can’t even swim,” she admits in frustration.
“I noticed.”
“Oh, fuck off,” she snaps.
I try to clean some of the grit from my wounds in the water. “Despite your lack of real world knowledge, I think you’ll still try your chances alone. The binds stay on.”
The princess huffs again, and blue pulses beneath her skin, illuminating more of the shallow cave. “I can’t read Illyan, or Wolish, or Seterian. I can’t speak more than common phrases in any language other than Fynish.”
“I don’t think it’ll stop you from learning.” Pain splits up my hand as I wrap my fingers in the less-than-ideal bandage.
“You’re not listening to me.” She paces, her skin pulsing even brighter. “I don’t know how to make a trap, or wield a sword, or even a dagger for that matter! I can’t ride a horse or draw a bow. I can’t kill you here because I’ll be stranded, and the queenwillfind me. I’m sure we’re not far from the wreck.”
“We’re not,” I say.
“See! If I’m going to kill you, it’ll be when we get to a reasonably sized settlement.”
