Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

7. The Scorpia Assassin

The Guilds drove me to stealing, I swear! Six out of six merchants I talked to—the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, the jeweler, the tailor and even the stinky tanner—told me to run double-quick and pay the Guild's apprenticeship fees. Once I brought back the token, they would be happy to hire me. But that didn't work for me at all!

Guilds proved to be the same as the Gala's Temple—once they sank their teeth into me, once my name was on their roster, my fate would be sealed for eternity. I wasn't going to sell myself for eternity, only for a few weeks until the Deadhead Company returned.

My remaining option was to walk far out of the City of Palmyr, outside even the tanners' shops and find a farm. Maybe someone in the countryside needed a hand with rustic labors. Simple enough plan, but there was a hitch too. I imagined myself as I would become by the summer's end working on a farm.

I'd be stick-thin, barefooted and browned by the sun, my hair full of straw knocking at the city gates.

"Did the Deadhead company return yet?" I'd ask the Watch. My voice would be hoarse from dust and sleeping in some barn.

The City Watch I already hated from my vagrant nights, would scowl. They would chase me away instead of trying to apprehend me.

So, I resorted to thievery as one bad choice among the worse ones. Just once, I had decided, just this once, I'd lift a purse and have a meal and a safe bed to sleep in for the night.

Then, the next morning, I would go to the docks to see if the boat captains were as fastidious in their dealings with the Sea Guild as the merchants of the Old Market. A boat would be a bit like a farm, but inside the city at least.

I stole in the theater.

It proved as easy as plucking a lemon from a tree. I reached out, sliced, grabbed, pulled and stuffed the plump bounty into my belt. Then I made it between the revelers to the exit, flushed with my success.

A hand squeezed my elbow—and I had felt a more delicate touch of these fingers before.

"In here," Parneres whispered into my ear, stirring me to one of the many curtained alcoves. "Young Mistress, I don't know who you are or what quarrel you've had with your mother—"

My chin jerked up all by itself. "I'm my own mistress."

"Your dress lies then," he said. "You have a princess-in-disguise air about you."

My chest inflated. He thought I was a princess! And, my tunic and pants held out despite washing them daily. I needed to keep my clothes decent until the Deadhead Company returned, but I didn't share this aspiration with Parneres.

"If you don't have a powerful lady protecting you, it's even more important that you return the purse and scoot," he said. His throat pebble bobbed. His words came out quiet and urgent. He seemed genuinely worried about my trespassing, but I wasn't born yesterday. Accusing myself would only make matters worse.

"I stole nothing!" I exclaimed. "Unhand me!"

He winced. "We don't have the time for denials, Mistress. It's one thing to watch a play for free, however many times in a row. Come again if you want to. But don't steal from the patrons, I beg you."

I pulled in the air furiously, determined to argue the second charge too.

He rolled his eyes.

"I really love Naktymyana," I said instead.

He rolled his eyes again, far more demonstratively this time. Ah, what lovely eyes he had!

Anastasia could fill the scrolls with praise to orbs like polished gems, sapphire and emeralds, all she wanted. I loved Parneres' eyes because they were human eyes. His irises smelted into pupils, close in color, but not quite. It contrasted with the purest white and his long lashes. And the evasiveness of his gaze egged me on to fight for his sole attention. I wanted him to look at me for an hour. Two hours... three!