The Heartsmith's Daughter

Chapter 4.

Much to my dismay, Oliver did in fact raise a thin eyebrow. "Assassination? Really?"

"Indeed," I answered solemnly, although I was surprised to find that he laughed again. This fellow is certainly in good spirits for his predicament. I huffed in mild annoyance.

"I'm sorry. It's just the very notion of you. The girl who failed to murder me, who shaking the whole time she tried to wield a knife, going after someone for a piece of their heart." He laughed again.

"I'll have you know I was not shaking. I easily could have ended your life there. After all, if you were so certain that I was afraid, why bother to beg me to spare you?"

He simply shrugged. "I'm not beneath groveling. No harm in begging for my life and slimming the chances of that nasty piece o' work being in my neck even more."

I peered down at him over the bridge of my nose. "You're pathetic."

"Maybe so, but not as pathetic as you'll be when you're trying to end someone all knotted up in your own clothes, and quivering like a leaf. You'll be caught for sure." He stretched his bony hand in front of me again, his broken nails glinting in the moonlight. "Come on. You know I'm right. Let me come with you."

"Why should I? All I had to do before was collect my own pieces. Finding another girl's on top of that will only slow me down, and I don't have that much time left to begin with." It's not that I was apathetic to her predicament, but I only had two months until my birthday, and if my heart ceased to wind, that would be the end.

"Oh I don't know..." Oliver stalled, beginning to recline in his creaky, wooden chair. "Perhaps because I know how to conceal myself. Because I am well aware of what kinds of security Goldhearts surround themselves with. What?" he suddenly asked, staring at my now-shocked face. "You didn't believe they would let you just kindly walk in and let you take their hearts, did you?"

"No... it's not that. How did you know I was a Goldheart?" Heart pieces were only compatible with their own metal and from there, shape, so it was clear to myself who I would be required to go after, but for him to know as well... I looked down to check that my key was still neatly tucked beneath my bodice, and it was, without a trace of its signature gold peeping out.

He tapped the side of his neck impatiently. "Your keyhole is out for the world to see. I'll see about finding you some bandages tomorrow." I once again took note of the layers of wrapping around his scrawny neck. So it's no injury at all. How mysterious. It made me uncomfortable to think that he knew so much of myself, with me unable to see even the kind of metal trim that rimmed his own keyhole. "But for now," he started again, his silvery voice dissipating my thoughts. "It's late. Come on. I can make a spot for you in my room."

Share a room with a boy? What did he take me for? "Absolutely not!" I cried out, trying hard not to blush at his risque suggestion. "I will require my own quarters."

"Oh sure," he answered with a sly smile. "And where would that be?" He swept his arms grandly around him, gesturing to the unswept floor and grime-ridden walls. "If my fair lady likes, she could sleep on the floor. Or, she could take the extra bed in my room. It's your choice." With that, he turned and made his way to the half-fallen door on the right, opening and shutting it behind him.

Fine. I guess the floor it is. How rude. I was about to sit down, when I believed I heard a squeak. What if it should be a rat? I had read books on how ships could get them, and how they would gnaw off the captain's ears by morning. "Wait!" I called after Oliver. "Did you mention a spare bed?"

The room was dusty, but at least better kept than the rest of the hovel. I realized with sinking feeling that I had no clothes to dress down in for the night, having had no time to grab any before I fled. I sat on the edge of the bed, straight across from Oliver's own, when it all came rushing back to me, too much to handle. How had it come to this? With my sitting in this filthy, rundown shack, putting all my trust in some ruffian that I barely knew, all the while my father locked up, who knew where? Tears pricked at my eyes, then ran down my face, at first one slow drop at a time, then another, until it flowed as steady as the Mississippi River.