“Don’t got none,” he said simply and began to carry his load down an alley and turned to look over at me and pointed. “It’s that way. I’m making a delivery to there now. You can follow me. If you’d like.”
An orphan. Like me. It struck me how similar we both were, and I felt a moment of kinship.
“Yes.” I rapped on the top of the transport, and the driver leaned down, fear radiating off him in waves.
“Change of plans. Go to the Broken Heart tavern.”
Another head bob and the transport dragged forward as a plan began to form in my head. Just make it to the ball, get the prince to notice me, and get chosen to stay on. Then I will have my chance for revenge. Simple, yes, but for someone who had never flirted or had a true kiss, maybe impossible.
Madam Pantalonnes looked like it was a cesspool for thieves, rakes, and ladies of the night. An enchanted street sign hung over the door and would flicker to show a heart. Then the second flicker would reveal a glowing knife stabbing the heart. I paused to take in the ingenuity of the spell. It was a form of a flickering glamour on a timer.
“Fascinating.” I smiled and stepped through the door, the driver hot on my heels with my small case.
A tall, thin woman with a pink candy-colored wig, which hung low over her ears, greeted me as I walked through the doors on the heels of the boy. “Welcome to the Broken Heart, where you can unburden your heart or drown your sorrows.” Madam Pantalonne grinned. “Are you here for a drink or room?”
The front sitting room was a macabre atmosphere of black and purple velvet décor. Overly stuffed chairs surrounded dark wooden gaming tables, and purple velvet curtains kept out the light and prying eyes. Strong incense wafted across my nose, and I recognized the scent of magic and a hint of frankincense. Most of the tables were occupied with men either playing tricks or blood stones, which consisted of flipping black and red stones and cornering your opponent.
The serving ladies wore bells around their hips, bright-colored lace across their face, and silk skirts. Some of the tables were nestled in dark corners with more curtains that provided the occupants privacy.
“A room,” I said, watching a serving tray with a glass of dark swirling liquid and smoke billowing from the top go past me and be served to a table of one. It was similar to one of the potions we brewed, and I wondered what exactly was in the drink.
Madam looked me over and glanced at my driver behind me. “By the hour or—”
“N-No, nothing like that,” I blurted out, feeling my cheeks flush red. “For a few days at least.”
Her painted lips pursed, and she gave me a sly look. “Hmm, I see. Hoping to snag the prince, are you? Many have tried to capture his heart, but let me warn you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The prince is incapable of love.”
I swallowed nervously at the way her voice dropped. What did she know that I didn’t?
“Which is why I presume that the king is tired of waiting and forcing him to pick a bride by the end of the week,” she added flippantly. With a finger, Madam Pantalonne beckoned me to follow her through the front room toward the back stairs. As I maneuvered around the tables, long legs suddenly barred my path, trapping me between two tables.
“Pardon me,” I snapped impatiently. There was no room to go around. He had obviously stopped me on purpose as Madam had passed only seconds before.
“You are very much pardoned,” the man said and crossed his legs at his ankles. Still not moving. The way the room was dimly lit and the position of his chair had him sitting in the shadows. The candles at his table had been blown out. So, I was left with addressing his silhouette.
“I wish to pass, and you are blocking my way.”
“Then do so. Just lift your skirts and step over my legs.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, and it sounded like he was smiling.
“That is improper,” I seethed.
“For a lady, yes.” He leaned forward, his face coming into the light. “But you are not a lady. For ladies do not stay in an establishment like this, where secrets are sold and bought for a kiss.”
I sucked in my breath, one at the insult and second because the candlelight accented his strong jawline and a day’s worth of growth, which gave him a rakish look. Tousled dark hair hung low over his ears, as if a woman had run her hands through it instead of a comb. The color of his cold, hard eyes was indiscernible to me in the low light. There was something otherworldly and beautiful about him, and it fascinated me.
“I assure you I have no secrets,” I said, spinning on my heel to find a different way around those long, alluring legs.
His hand shot out and gripped my wrist, his thumb rubbing ever so slightly across my skin. The touch was so electrifying, it sent prickles of excitement up my arm, and I shivered.
“That is a lie. Everyone has secrets. Secrets are currency in this world, and I am the trove, the guardian of all that is whispered in the night. And, therefore, by nature, I am very rich indeed.” He brought my hand up, brushing his lips across the underside of my wrist, and I felt a flicker of a feathery kiss. “What would it cost to gain one of yours?”
“You will have to go elsewhere to pry for gossip. For any secrets I have are buried deep,” I answered, pulling my wrist away, his lips having left a burning sensation behind. A warmth spread uncomfortably through my stomach.
“Then I shall get a shovel.” He laughed, the corners of his mischievous eyes lifting.
During this exchange, the man had stood up and pulled me even closer to his side. I was entranced by the poetry that flowed from his mouth like sweet candy, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to those lips. He was a seducer. No doubt and I was his prey, and I was trapped within his gaze, unwilling to pull away.
“Dorian, stop playing with my guest,” Madam Pantalonne snapped impatiently, her slipper tapping on the rug. “She is of no concern to you and will be gone in a few days once the prince finds a bride.”
With her words, the spell that Dorian had woven over me broke, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. Shaking my head, I stepped back, and he was reluctant to release me, but I didn’t understand why.
“Then even more so that I set my eyes on you. For you would be wasting your time at the ball. Hundreds of girls will be bedecked with generations of their family’s wealth flaunted around their necks. You, my dear sparrow, will be surrounded by swans. Save yourself the embarrassment and stay here with me. I can guarantee you that I am a far better dancer then the prince.”
Was he insinuating that I was ugly? Yes, my looks were by far plain compared to my sister Rosalie, the stunning beauty that she was. Would I waste my time by going and for sure not pass the criteria needed to stay? I had to stay and find out what happened to my mother, and the answers were in the palace.
My eyes narrowed, and my anger rose at his insult. My lip curled in disgust. “And you are nothing more than a mongrel.”
A deep, manly chuckled followed. “A bastard mongrel that steals things that belong to others to scrape by. You are correct.”
“What do you want?” I said irritably.
“You.” Dorian’s eyes had locked onto mine, and I could see that they were a startling gray blue. Like ice.
“Never going to happen,” I snarled.