Dead Suitors Tell No Tales

10: A Deal With the Devil

Amara gazed defiantly up at the men staring down at her, her expression hostile and unnerving. A hand suddenly appeared in her line of vision. She followed it up to its owner, a suitor looking at her with an apologetic look on his face.

"Here," the suitor offered. "Allow me to help you up." Amara rolled her eyes and scoffed. As if she needed assistance! She didn't know who this imbecile thought he was, as there were too many of these useless idiots to keep track of, but it didn't matter. She ignored his hand and peeled herself off the ground, not bothering to smooth her skirts.

Turning demonstratively to him, she spoke very clearly. "I'm perfectly capable of helping myself up, thanks," she said, and crossed her arms over her chest, molding her face into a mask of stone.

The suitor retracted his hand, but instead of looking put off by her attitude as she expected, he stood back and watched her. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the thoughtful features of his face as he studied her, his curious eyes never leaving her. She shivered, suddenly itching to be out of all the scrutiny of these petty men, and went to walk out of their midst, but then she remembered.

"You," she hissed, whirling around to find Elric smiling innocently behind her. "Give. Me. My. Book."

"Pardon me, Your Highness," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I just wanted to take a look at what you were reading, that's all. Sagewick Laws and Customs, I see, a very interesting choice; does it hold much interest for you?"

"That's none of your concern, I believe, Lord Elric."

"It's a simple question. Surely it would merit a simple answer."

"Not quite," Amara snapped, and lunged again for her book. Her increasing anger rose as Elric somehow managed to spin out of reach, the book still captive in his grip.

"Now, now, Your Highness," he said with the barest trace of mocking in his voice, "there's no need to be so violent."

Violent! I'll show him violent, all right!

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, a different voice interrupted her.

"Princess Amarantha." She was so startled at the use of her formal name that she forgot the insult she was about to throw at Elric. No one used her formal name except her father, or if she was being announced to a crowd.

She turned to the voice and found the redhead grinning back at her. He had the same carefree persona that Elric exuded, only it seemed that he put it to use for more practical means. His vibrant hair was like fire thanks to the sunlight that streamed through the library windows, and served to make him look like a mischievous sprite from a children's storybook, ready to play tricks on unsuspecting passerby.

"Yes?" Amara asked. "Lord...." She paused, not knowing his name. He'd think her rude---which, she thought, smiling inwardly, was exactly what she wanted.

"Foster Holloway, m'lady," the redhead replied, giving no indication of his thoughts. He merely tipped her a nod and gestured toward the book in Elric's hand. "Is that really what you're reading? Seems a bit unconventional to me. Thought you noble ladies liked needlepoint or something."

"You thought wrong," Amara said icily.

Foster shrugged, his expression still cheerful. "Forgive me," he said, although he didn't sound sorry at all. "My sister reads silly stuff. Wasn't sure if you'd be any different."

Amara merely glared in response to prove her point, and was about to turn back to Elric when another suitor suddenly seized his chance to chat her up.

"Well of course she's different," a stocky youth pointed out to her left. "She's a Princess. What did you expect her to read?"

Foster shrugged again. "I didn't expect her to read much of anything," he said. "I was just curious."