The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,5
yet…
“What’s your name?”
“Quintus,” he responded.
His name didn’t ring any bells, but I’d never seen him at any reputable vendor stand. It wasn’t overly surprising that Darrien had seedy connections outside of Cruor. What he did with his bits was on him, but if this dealer thought selling wares to Darrien would put him in good graces with me, he was sorely mistaken.
“Darrien is no longer with us.”
“Ah.” Weighted silence stretched between us, then he frowned. “I’m…sad to hear that.” If he held any warmer emotions for Darrien, I couldn’t tell. And I wasn’t eager to correct his misunderstanding. He shook his head once, and his expression cleared. “So, assassins, yes? I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of work.”
“You don’t have to kill if you don’t want to.” I shifted my weight onto my heels and stared at each one of them pointedly. “I won’t force that on any of you. There are other methods for earning your keep.”
“Do we have to stay?” The woman’s voice was surprisingly low.
“No, but I’d highly recommend it. No one else can teach you how to command the shadows like we can. And no one else will understand your predicament like we do. Here, you’re accepted. Out there”—I gestured in the direction of Wilheim—“you’re exiled.”
“Seems to me like we were better off dead,” Quintus scoffed.
I lifted a shoulder. “That can be arranged. If you’d rather return to death than lead this life, I’d understand. It would be quick. Painless.”
The couple gasped together, and the young man tucked the woman’s head into his chest. With a flicker of boldness, he met my gaze. “We never got the chance to live. Not together.”
“I know. That’s why you’re here—your families paid to have you raised. To give you that chance.” For a moment, my mind slipped away to the woman waiting for me in our room. Leena. I’d found her because of Cruor, and now this couple could find joy in each other too. As long as they never returned home. I cleared my throat. “That said, you won’t be welcome in your old town. They made it clear that your kinsmen wouldn’t know how to accept your new…life.”
The young man suppressed a shiver. With a tight grimace, he nodded once. “We’ll stay, then. But no killing.” He glanced down at the woman, and her watery brown eyes mirrored his sentiment. With an almost imperceptible nod, she agreed.
The spiky-haired woman shrugged. “I’ll kill if I have to. But I know for a fact no one paid to have me raised. So, what the hell am I doing alive?”
Her teakwood gaze burned with a fire I’d learned to recognize: resilience. She was a survivor. A fighter. And judging by her wiry frame and the pop of muscles along her arms, she wasn’t against throwing a punch or two.
The tension knotting in my shoulders faded, and I raised a brow. “Two guild members heard of your death and requested I raise you. Practically threatened murder if I didn’t. Iov and Emelia tend to get what they want.”
Her mouth fell open. “Iov and Emelia are assassins? Sign me the fuck up. Where are they?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “In due time.”
“I’m still not convinced.” Quintus glared at me and then my brothers, and my smile turned to a grimace. “Why am I here?”
“You were a by-product of a job. Someone wanted you dead and then raised so you could live with the knowledge of your demise.”
He paused for a brief moment, as if contemplating my response, and then angled his chin high. “And what, you’re our leader? I don’t even know you.”
Calem hissed and took an agitated step forward. “Watch your tone.” His nostrils flared wide, and the loose bun of blond hair threatened to topple over with the jolt of his movements. The mercury thread around his irises flared. Always ready for a fight. Ozias gripped his shoulder and held him in place while Kost subtly edged closer.
Maybe it was Calem’s sudden outburst, or Quintus’s obvious disdain, or perhaps even the reminder that Darrien could be working against us even in this. But whatever its cause, a dark impulse flooded me, and I extended my arm forward. My fingers itched to form a fist. To clench tight and command my blood in the trader’s system to come to a screeching halt. A phantom burn spasmed on my inner wrist.
Kost’s gaze riveted to me, wide and full of shock. That look sent a wave of panic and uncertainty