Page 16 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

From the goblins near the gutter to the ladies by the shops, everyone lowered their gaze. Men bowed and women performed deep curtsies. Lord Daydleman removed his hat as he bent low.

Only Farrow remained on her feet, watching the approach of the man she knew as Thorn.

Chapter 9

Blackthorn

Prince Blackthorn held the girl in his gaze.

She was an impudent thing, not falling to her knees in his presence. She didn’t so much as avert her eyes.

Of course, she had thought him lost and poor only yesterday. She had no reason to believe he was someone to kneel to. But the look on her face was more than ignorance.

Her green eyes blazed defiantly, and her fiery hair lifted slightly in the breeze, giving her an appearance that was more warrior than baker.

“Take that thing out of her mouth,” Blackthorn commanded, not taking his eyes off Farrow Barton.

One of the elves scurried over to her and ripped the rag away.

Blackthorn had been looking forward to seeing her sensual mouth again. He was not disappointed.

“You are obliged to me,” she yelled immediately, ruining the effect of her perfect pink lips with her insolence.

“Show respect when you address Prince Blackthorn,” one of the elves spat.

“Release her,” Blackthorn said, ignoring her unforgivable manners. She would learn how to behave. He relished being the one to teach her.

The elves cut her hands free.

“Our business is transacted,” he told her. “Be on your way.”

“Not so fast,” she said, marching closer to his horse, as if she planned to take it by the reins. “You still owe me.”

“I was obliged to you,” he said calmly. “You were about to be executed, and I set you free. Does that not satisfy my obligation?”

The fact she still wore the bracelet he’d pledged with told him she was right, but he was having too much fun to admit that.

“I didn’t ask you to set me free,” she protested.

There was color in her cheeks now, and a desperate gleam in her eyes. Whatever her reason, she wasn’t about to go away without a fight.

“Should they tie you up again, and proceed?” he offered in a velvety voice. “My favor will do you no good in the afterlife.”

“They can do as they like as soon as you fulfill your obligation to me,” she told him archly.

“I’ll bite,” he chuckled. “What do you want?”

His enjoyment was cut short by the unmistakable hoofbeats of the reindeer that pulled the royal carriage. His parents were coming, too. Fantastic.

“My friend is dying,” she said. “I want you to save him.”

“All of your friends are dying,” Blackthorn scoffed. “I am no mortal god, to extend one short life so that it may be slightly less brief.”

There was muted laughter in the square. Farrow ignored it, holding his gaze.

“Can you cure him of this?” she asked, opening the pouch around her waist to fish something out.

His guard strode toward her at the implied threat. But Blackthorn raised his hand to make the soldier stand down. He had no fear of this angry, desperate girl.

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