The Prince and the Poisoner - Helena Rookwood Page 0,1

windowsill, as well as apples she had pulled from a tree, their waxy skins soft.

If she were caught, the pie and the apples would be lost, too. Not to mention that she didn't have the strength to pull Elysia out on her own.

But Inir and his friend, Kiernan, were only a short distance behind her…

Lira's eyes narrowed. Inir. He was the reason they were in this mess. Lira scrambled toward them, and the boys’ eyes widened as she flung herself into their path. She gasped as she felt their legs connect with hers, knocking all three to the soft ground.

Kiernan was back on his feet in an instant. “Daidi!” he swore, his face red and eyes glittering with rage. “What the hell's wrong with you, Lira?”

She lurched forward again, grabbing him around the waist to prevent him running off.

“You're a freak,” he said, wrenching her off him. “An absolute freak.”

Inir staggered to his feet beside them, staring at Lira as though she had lost her mind. He glanced nervously back at Elysia, then turned to Kiernan, as though waiting for a cue to leave.

Lira pointed an accusing finger straight at him. “You asked her to come with you.” She glared at him, forcing herself up onto wobbling legs and spreading her arms. “And now what? You're going to run off and leave her here? Will you tell her ma you're the reason she lost a hand, or shall I?”

Inir’s face paled.

“I wonder what the other girls will make of it when they hear what they can expect from a first date with you.”

Kiernan grabbed Inir by the sleeve and started to haul him away, but he shrugged his friend off, flushing. “I wasn't going to leave her.”

Lira bit back the furious retort waiting to fly from her lips—as if he'd been going to help her—as she glanced back at where the villagers bolted toward them, shouting.

“We haven't time to argue about this!” She dragged Inir behind her, stumbling over the freezing marshes until they reached Elysia.

“You dindo,” Lira said, glaring at her, hands on her hips.

Elysia turned red-rimmed, watery eyes to Lira.

“All right, Elysia,” Inir said in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Arms up now, okay?”

Her face pale, Elysia lifted her arms into the air. Inir hurried around to her left side, while Kiernan hastened to grab hold under her right arm. Kiernan glanced behind them again, his face turning ashen.

Lira followed his gaze and felt her stomach roil. The villagers were close enough now that she could make out their features.

“Hurry up,” she snapped.

The boys heaved upward.

Elysia let out a plaintive cry as she was hauled from the earth, her skin and clothes slick with wet, green moss.

“Hurry up,” Lira groaned again as the shouts behind them grew louder. Her aching body trembled as she grabbed her friend by her water-soaked sleeve and pulled her to her feet.

But it was too late.

Feet thudded against the soft earth as the villagers surrounded them, their eyes gleaming with the promise of violence. Kiernan glared at Lira, evidently convinced this was all her fault. Inir clung to Elysia, who clung back, panic written across her face.

Typical. Lira had to force these dindos to help, yet Elysia no doubt now thought of Inir as her hero. She knew she should have kept running.

She looked around wildly, desperate for any way they might escape from this.

One of the villagers stepped forward, his mouth a thin line beneath a thick, brown beard. “Well, we might not have captured all of you, but the four of you will do.” He pulled a blunt knife from within a dirty waistcoat.

“Bleeding us dry with your poor circus tricks and overpriced potions not enough for you?” a tall, reedy villager asked.

Lira recognized him from the previous night. He'd wanted a remedy for which it was difficult to source the ingredients, time-consuming to make, and produced very small quantities in the end. She hadn't overcharged him. If anything, Lira regretted having sold it to him for so little.

She was suddenly glad she'd come back to rob these wretches. She lifted her chin high.

“Come now, lads,” Kiernan said in the lilting sing-song voice typical of all the travelers. “I'm sure we can come to some arrangement.” He gestured to Elysia. “Our girl here is a contortionist. I bet you’d love to see what shapes she can bend herself into.”

The bearded man leered at pretty Elysia. He slowly took in her dark, freckled skin, ample curves, and wide eyes made even wider by