Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
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I THINK BACK TO EARLIER THAT morning when I believed that death was the worst fate I could come to. As the man's hungry gaze moves from my face to the rest of my body, I know that I would gladly spend the rest of my life in the dungeons. Drawing and quartering is a better fate than having his hot wine breath on me.
You are naught but a street whore ... and I am a gentleman.
Who will they believe if I complain? I hold back my scoff. If I tell the queen? She might execute me for the inconvenience. If I tell Giovanni, will he believe a thief or a gentleman of the court? My scorn makes me laugh.
"There." The old man smiles an ugly sneer. "We both know you want it."
I cringe as his lips graze my neck.
His grasp lessens, for he thinks I have resigned to my fate. But I have not. I do not care if anyone believes me or not. I will not let this behemoth treat me so. He sees the re-newed spark in my eyes and mistakes it for interest; his own glassy eyes flare with the heat of desire.
I lean in closer to him, my hands through his tangled hair.
"Signore ..." I pout, one hand moving from his hair to unbutton his doublet. I swallow the distaste that rises in my mouth.
Right when I feel he is relaxed, I knee him between the legs - hard and satisfying. He crumbles to the floor with a horrid shriek and rolls around with a painful groan.
"You whore!"
I kick him in the ribs, then I fumble with the balcony door. I do not look back but run away from him, down the first hall I see, only to run into the last person I want to.
"Signora!" Giovanni de Luca grabs my arm and spins me to him. At first he does not recognize me, but as I look up into his eyes, annoyed recognition masks his initial concern. "Oh. It is only you," he says. "I thought you were a maiden in need of aid."
I have no energy to play this game between us. I feel disgusting and shamed. I want to bathe and runaway.
"Let me go!"
But Giovanni's quick eyes do not leave anything amiss. I can feel his eyes move from my messed up hair, tear stained face and ruined dress. And although I can feel his steely eyes upon me, I do not feel the same disgust. I look away before he can come up with any conclusions. I do not want to see him blame me.
