Fourteen Adriana
“D ID YOU HEAR ?”
The high-pitched screech that followed the statement drew my attention up from the limited selection of lantern oils. A small group of women jumped up and down, a newspaper held between them.
A sardonic smile curved my lips. I wasn’t certain, but the vampires living all the way down on Malice Isle probably heard their excited cries.
I went back to perusing the jars of oil, trying to find something I could afford this week. The entire circle had erupted into chaos after my special article went out this morning.
Each time I imagined how furious the prince was, I couldn’t help but grin. It was certainly time someone gave him a taste of his own high-handed behavior. I had no idea that “Stay scandalous!” would become the new phrase du jour and knew he’d positively loathe it.
Another squeal erupted, this one remarkably louder than the first.
I glanced around the market stall, half expecting small woodland creatures to have responded to the shrill noise, tails fuzzed and tiny claws at the ready, prepared to valiantly free their endangered brethren at any cost.
When no impending squirrel stampede occurred, I returned my focus to the group of three young women waving the paper around, my ears tuned for gossip as they chatted excitedly. Old habits perished a slow death, it seemed. There probably wouldn’t be a time when I wasn’t ready to report on some delectable scandal.
“The prince confirmed the Miss Match rumor! He’s looking for a bride. Anyone can enter the competition!” the first one squealed. “You simply add your name to the drawing.”
“Imagine being Prince Gluttony’s wife?” said the second, a dreamy tone in her voice.
“Let me see—” The third one swiped the paper away. “Where do you enter?”
Prince Gluttony clearly had tried to take back control of the situation, and it seemed his confirmation announcement was doing just that. Unsurprisingly, no one was heeding my advice.
I all but rolled my eyes. Not at them. They had every right to dream of their happily-ever-after. I was already over the damned prince’s stupid competition, and it hadn’t yet begun.
I could only hope to fall into a fugue state until it ended. Perhaps I’d visit a temple and make a sacrifice to the old gods on the way home.
Or maybe I’d stop by the witch’s apothecary to take a tonic. Though, humor aside, I had much more serious matters to focus on. I’d scoured my network of informants on the way back to the Wicked Daily this morning, and none were in their usual haunts.
I’d need to set out again later to see if I could locate any of them after dark. Until they came out of hiding, there wasn’t much more information I could glean on the ice dragon situation. Or if there were any more rumors circulating around Jackson’s death. No official report had been printed; all anyone was talking about was the stupid competition.
My stomach twisted. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he was dead.
Hopefully my informants would have more to report on than the prince’s news.
More than the details of the competition, I wondered who’d taken the position as his royal reporter. If we were in House Envy, I might be slightly jealous, knowing what I did of the hefty salary he’d offered.
“Will that be all?” Donovan, the vendor, asked, nodding to the small container of oil.
“It’s ten coins more than last week,” I pointed out. “And half the size.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Still cheaper than the rest.”
I sighed and handed over the coins.
There was no point in trying to haggle with Donovan. I’d done business with him for years and his prices were firm. I’d need to find a creative way to balance our budget this week. Hopefully I could find a better deal on vegetables. Meat was certainly out of the question thanks to Sophie’s demand for a new gown combined with the raised price of oil and my visit with Nyx.
Donovan jerked his chin at the growing crowd behind us. All the screaming had drawn curious shoppers, all jostling closer to hear the prince’s news.
Excitement ignited as if the market had been doused in the emotion, then lit, the news spreading like wildfire among the hardworking citizens of the realm.
My column was being whispered about right alongside the royal news—something my editor would be pleased by, despite my going rogue this morning.
Miss Match was now an authority on breaking all news relating to romance. I sincerely doubted Prince Gluttony had intended for that to happen.
I smiled to myself. Celebrating small victories was highly underrated.
“He’ll choose a wife from common families as well as nobles!” someone cried.
My triumphant smile faded as I glanced at the paraffin on the table.
I wondered if stuffing my ears with wax was more dangerous than being subjected to hearing more about the wonderful prince.
Donovan wrapped my purchase in brown paper and handed me the package.
I tucked the glass jar into my satchel, mindful of any accidental elbows swinging my way as the small pathway between stalls grew even tighter. If any of my supplies broke, my family would be in dire straits this week.
“You entering that competition, Ad? Might win yourself a prince.”
Donovan waggled his brows in a move meant to be suggestive but unfortunately made him look spasmodic. I offered him a polite smile. I had a masked stranger who was already causing me enough romantic distractions without adding sadism to my list.
“I would rather gouge my eyes out with a dull spoon.”
“Really? Only a dull spoon?” a familiar irksome voice drawled much too close.
I stiffened as the male of the hour circled me, his features hidden under a dark cloak.
Axton looked like the sort of male mothers warned their daughters about. The bad, tempting ones who were terribly exciting for all the wrong reasons.
“After your little stunt this morning, I was hoping for something a bit more creative from the exquisite mind of Miss Match. Or perhaps I expected you to stay scandalous. ”
He angled his face toward mine, his hood shifting enough to grant me my first good look at him. Oh, the prince was indeed furious. He loomed over me, eyes flashing.
Axton was formidable when he chose to be—dark, dangerous, his gaze penetrating deep enough to pierce your soul. His expression was colder than steel and just as hard. Here stood the demon often hidden behind the roguish prince.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
That bladelike gaze suddenly swept over me, darkening further before he flicked it back up, pinning me with it once again. Whatever he’d been searching for, he hadn’t found.
But I’d finally found my senses.
I looked Axton up and down, knowing he loathed when I did it, my expression perfectly unimpressed with his temper. “Why are you dressed like a grandmother in the dead of winter?”
His lips twitched, not quite forming a smile. Which put me on alert again. I had a feeling he’d hunted me down and this marketplace meeting was no coincidence.
I considered darting into the crowd, running as far and fast as I could. If he put this much effort into finding me, whatever message he’d come to deliver wouldn’t be good.
He seemed to read the thought before I’d finished it. The prince took another step in my direction, his body much, much too close to mine now. He didn’t have to utter a single word or threat. I knew if I ran, he’d chase me. There was one truth even I couldn’t deny: Gabriel Axton was legendary for being ruthless when it came to the hunt. I did not want to end up his prey.
A little shiver went through me at his proximity.
One he noticed, given the knowing smirk.
“I like to hear what residents of my circle really think of me. Even the minor few who’d prefer to be maimed rather than wed me.”
Much as I would have loved to offer a cutting remark, the continued squeals and giggles surrounding us proved I was alone in my loathing. Even married women and grandmothers were getting swept up in the fantasy of catching Gabriel Axton’s attention.
I pressed my lips into a firm line, unable to retort as his fan club grew riotous. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes said he knew I was outnumbered too.
“Well. I can see you’re very busy. Enjoy your afternoon of spying and ego stroking.”
“Not so fast, Miss Match.” There was no longer any amusement in his tone. “You and I need to have a little discussion.”
“I’ll be happy to schedule something in. Have your staff contact the Wicked Daily. ”
He gave me an incredulous look.
I turned on my heel, ready to make a dramatic exit, and promptly collided with a giant of a man. Glass shattered in my satchel, the scent of oil stinging my nose and eyes as I bounced backward, my fall broken only by the several other bodies pressed close.
I glanced down at the liquid staining the canvas bag and leaching onto my best day dress, wondering at the sudden dizziness taking over. I’d never been one prone to fainting spells, but the smell mixed with the crowd suddenly made my knees weak.
In the next breath I was hauled off my feet, carried to the safety of an empty alley.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that my hero wasn’t my nemesis.
“You smell atrocious.”
I cursed the old gods. Prayers were for saints, not sinners, apparently. I drew in a few deep breaths, then glowered at the shadow of my savior as he towered over me.
“This is all your fault.”
“The part where I told you to storm into the pathway was rather rude of me.”
I ignored the sarcasm dripping from his tone. I had worse problems to contend with.
I bent down and peeled my satchel open, wincing at the broken glass that grazed my fingertips. I let out a shaky breath, my worst fears coming true. Oil coated everything.
I stared for a few moments, trying to collect myself as my world came crumbling down around me in a sudden, violent heap.
My parchment and new quill were ruined, along with the bit of ribbon I’d purchased for Eden. I couldn’t afford to replace the items and get enough food for the week.
I’d already gone through my allotment of paper from the Wicked Daily, and no matter that my Miss Match article was popular, Mr. Gray wouldn’t hand out another sheet. Without the parchment, I wouldn’t be able to draft my next column.
Which meant we’d go hungry for another week. And if I couldn’t scrape together more coins soon, I’d miss a second column.
Tears pricked my eyes.
Axton swore and knelt beside me, pulling the bag from my grasp. “Are you hurt?”
Only emotionally. I gave a slight shake of my head, unable to speak without giving away the full extent of my despair. My eyes remained locked on the cursed satchel.
“Adriana.”
Axton’s voice was soft as he peered inside the bag. Wonderful. I was now being pitied by the worst possible male in the realm.
I straightened, willing myself to not show any weakness.
“I really must go.”
“Adriana, I—”
I spun on my heel and fled, only realizing as I pushed my way through the crowd that I’d forgotten to curtsy. And I’d left the remnants of my satchel behind.
But as the tears finally came hard and fast, I couldn’t find the will to drag myself back and face the prince. He’d already seen me cry once, and it was something I’d vowed he’d never witness again.
“Ad! Look! ”
Eden’s cherubic face was alight with excitement when I walked through the door a few hours later, defeated and spent. I’d tried to barter with the shopkeeper who sold parchment to no avail. I’d even begged to work for them, if only for one piece of parchment.
“Can you believe it?” Eden said, tugging on my arm.
I shook myself out of my despair and looked up, halting at the sight.
There were at least half a dozen people swarming around our small front room. Bolts of fabric hung over the settee, the colors lavish and beautiful.
My attention swept from the silks and cottons to the stacks of parchment being delivered. I went on alert at once.
“What’s going on?”
“This good here, miss?” A young male pointed to the weathered table, his arms filled with paper.
When I couldn’t find the words, my sister swept in. “That’s perfect, thank you.”
I blinked at the abundance of goods, unsure if I was hallucinating. “What is all this?”
My sister rushed to my side, hugging me close. “The prince! He sent a note. Whatever did you do to him?”
I must have gone into the fugue state after all. Or perhaps inhaling the oil did something nefarious to my brain. It was hard to escape the noxious scent, as it had soaked through the bodice of my dress. Surely that was the only reasonable explanation for this show of excess.
“Pardon? Did you say the prince? As in Axton?”
“Of course I mean Prince Gabriel. Here!” Eden handed me the cobalt-and-silver note.
It was indeed stamped with the House Gluttony crest.
My heart pounded as I broke the dragon seal and flipped it open, suspicious of what his motive for this stunt was. He clearly had some angle he was working. I’d been reporting on him long enough to know that Axton never did anything out of the goodness of his wicked heart.
He’d taken the time to track me down in the marketplace; he’d had a reason. One he wouldn’t simply drop just because I’d run off.
Dearest, insufferable Miss Saint Lucent,
Consider the gown a gift to those who’d otherwise suffer your stench with the spilled oil. It’s most certainly not an apology for ruining your parchment. Or your day.
His most charming royal highness, unrepentant rake and rogue, who I assure you has no issue with staying scandalous, Gabriel Axton, Prince Gluttony
“Oh!” Eden sighed dreamily from over my shoulder. “He is as generous as he is charming, wouldn’t you agree?”
I flashed my sister a dubious look as I folded the paper back up.
“Yes,” I said dryly, “whenever a gentleman calls you insufferable, then comments on saving others from your clothing’s stench, it most certainly points to generosity and charm.”
Eden’s smile wouldn’t be dimmed as she looped her arm through mine, steering me toward the obscene abundance of fabrics. “Say what you like, dear sister, but he is an absolute dream. He’s even purchasing new gowns for me and Mamma!”
My suspicion grew.
The prince was definitely up to something. He’d been furious when he’d cornered me earlier. There was no way he was rewarding me after I’d broken the news of his competition first.
Whatever his plan, I’d bet money I didn’t have that it furthered his cause somehow.
I kept my thoughts to myself.
“He is?”
“Indeed.” Eden motioned to the bedroom she and my stepmother shared. Her voice was filled with hero worship. Wonderful. Another Axton fan was living in our home now. “Well. He doesn’t necessarily know they’re for us personally. He instructed the modiste to measure everyone in the household for new attire. Mamma is getting fitted now.”
My sister’s smile appeared frozen in place at that part. Which meant my stepmother was using her usual charm on the dressmaker.
Before I could excuse myself to rescue the woman, another knock came at the door.
Eden clapped her hands, then darted over to answer the door to whoever was calling on us now. I’d never seen her so animated before, and despite my growing alarm at the prince’s obvious plot, I refused to ruin her fun.
A parade of servants wearing House Gluttony’s livery deposited satchels of groceries on the kitchen table. Fresh fruit and vegetables and bread that smelled divine. Along with cured meats and hard cheese. It was more food than we’d had at one time in a decade.
The surprises weren’t nearly close to being over. The next knock brought another set of servants, this group carrying jugs of oil and new lanterns.
I dropped onto the small settee, completely at a loss for words.
Axton might believe he was simply needling me over the market incident, but no matter his motives, this one act would save my family from any more hardship for the next several weeks.
The good feelings for Axton were of course short-lived when the modiste swept into the small main room and began clucking at my attire, demanding I stand at once, then not so subtly encouraged me to burn my entire wardrobe. Perhaps she was my punishment.
Hours later, and several bolts of fabric lighter, the modiste and her assistants finally left our home. I collapsed onto the settee next to Eden, completely spent from the afternoon’s marathon fitting. Axton certainly had ulterior motives, but it would have been foolish to refuse the goods for my family, especially after I’d turned down that obscene salary.
In a week’s time I’d have a new cloak, shoes, short boots, unmentionables, and five new dresses. Axton had proven once again that he indulged others to fuel his sin. I knew it was only a matter of time before he let me in on this nefarious move. For now, though, I’d let my sister prattle on with stars in her eyes, waxing poetic on the generosity of the handsome prince.
My stepmother swept out of the bedroom, a cunning gleam in her gaze as she waved today’s paper around like a victory flag.
I didn’t need to see the headline to know it was regarding the realm’s biggest news.
“Your sister is going to become a princess,” she declared, cold eyes on me. “I entered Eden’s name earlier this afternoon.”
Sophie raised one impertinent brow, daring me to object.
It didn’t matter that I had no designs on marrying the prince; it was the cruel way my stepmother glared like I needed to be reminded that I’d failed so spectacularly at winning his heart. As if I’d ever forget that fateful night ten years ago when I’d been made into the laughingstock of the circle by the very prince lavishing our household with gifts.
Sophie had been positively livid when I’d come home from the All-Sinners Ball. She’d called me a stain upon our family and refused to find me a suitable match after that. In all honesty, she hadn’t tried very hard before then either.
My stepmother held the paper up, jabbing her finger at it. “This is the match of the century. And our family will win his throne.”
How foolish of me to think it was supposed to be more about winning his heart.
Eden looked at me, her expression a mixture of worry and… hope as she bit her lower lip.
After today’s extravagant showing, she had a crush on the prince.
Any protestations I might have voiced died in my throat.
I would certainly not be entering my name for the silly competition, but if Eden had a chance at true happiness, far from Sophie’s toxic reach, I’d choke down my own feelings for Prince Gluttony.
Foul tasting, wretched, and all.