The Prince and the Poisoner - Helena Rookwood Page 0,2

the kohl she had ringed them with.

Even though she was slick with mud and moss, she looked captivatingly at the men, running a damp hand through her black curls and tilting her head to one side. The men all looked back, and from the looks on their faces, it seemed they liked what they saw.

Lira couldn't help feeling irritated. She, like most of the travelers, was scrawny and thin from not enough food, her tawny skin clinging to her bones. It wasn't fair that Elysia still had curves in all the right places, even after such a long winter. Lira ran a hand through her own wild curls, threaded with beads and braids, the chestnut lightening to gold at the ends where she had dyed it. She lowered her lashes, turning her pale green eyes to the villagers, but her efforts elicited little reaction from any of them.

“I don’t usually give such intimate performances,” Elysia purred, moving subtly away from Inir, “but perhaps you’d like to see what I can do in close quarters?”

The villagers muttered uneasily. They crowded closer together, the circle faltering.

“Or this one's a potion maker.” Kiernan gestured to Lira. “Anything you need, she can make for you. She's the best around. People ask for her potions all over Eldamar, and no one has ever been unsatisfied.”

Lira fought the urge to preen, gratification fighting with outrage that her talents should be promised away like party favors. It was true. She was the best.

“We don't need any of your witchcraft here,” the reedy man whined, but he stopped as the bearded man held up a hand.

“I'm curious,” he said, looking back at Kiernan. Something in his tone made Lira stiffen and grab for Elysia, as though she could protect her by holding on to her. “You promise much from these two girls, but the two of you offer nothing yourselves. Does your circus depend solely on its women?”

Lira began inching back, toward a slight gap in the circle. Elysia didn't resist as she pulled her along with her.

“If you want a show, we'll give you one,” Inir said slowly. “We can win any fight. We'll put a wager on it.”

Elysia's gaze shot to him, her mouth opening to protest. But Lira dug her fingers into her friend’s arm so hard that Elysia let out a whimper and turned her eyes to Lira.

“Be careful, boy,” the bearded man warned. “There are eight of us and two of you.”

“Even so, in a fair fight, we would win.” Inir looked pointedly at the knife in the bearded man's hand.

His face twisted into a cold smile. “The thing is, lad, you're not the first to try and take what little we have. Or to try and buy your way out of it with false promises—”

He didn't get a chance to finish. In a practiced move that came from years of training together, Inir and Kiernan raced straight for the villagers, fists swinging, taking out two with swift uppercuts to their jaws before spinning back around to face the rest of them.

Lira didn't miss a beat. Keeping a tight grip on Elysia's arm, she lurched away from the fight, toward the hills. But Elysia pulled out of her grasp.

“No!” she moaned, stumbling back toward Inir.

“Don't be stupid!” Lira gritted her teeth and grabbed at Elysia again, hauling her away.

Then there was the flash of a knife, the sickening sound of a blunt blade sinking into flesh.

Inir roared.

Lira gripped Elysia's shoulders, twisting her around so she couldn't see. Her friend went limp in her grasp.

“His hand,” Elysia bleated. “What if he's lost a hand? He can't perform if he's lost a hand.”

Lira took Elysia's own hand, cold and wrinkled from being submerged in the bog, and squeezed it gently. But Lira couldn’t disguise the shake in her limbs, her stomach clenching as she pictured what might have happened. The circus masters would be furious.

They wouldn’t care about them stealing, but they would care that they had been caught, that the circus would now have to move on quickly before the villagers chased them away. And they’d be enraged if one of their best performers could no longer work.

Lira shivered and pulled Elysia into a run, dragging her toward the line of distant hills where the circus wagons waited. Whatever had happened to Inir, there was nothing they could do. At least until they made it back. Lira’s mind ran through what medicines she had prepared, what would staunch the flow of blood and fight