We both kind of stared at each other over the other mercenary's body. I kicked off the body moving side from the slowly rotting corpse. She eyed my restraints now freed from my grasp, probably wondering if I should be tied up again.
"You just saved my life," not quite the question or statement, but it held true.
I tried to give her a shy smile. "Maybe then you will release me then."
She seemed to think it over, but then she shook off the thought. "Nope, you're still a dangerous fugitive."
I started to protest, but then it dawned on me nothing she said was not true. I am a dangerous fugitive. I am a killer. But I was not a kidnapper. "I didn't kidnap the princess."
She turned, giving me an acquisitive look, arching an eyebrow. "We didn't take you because you took the princess. Everybody knows that she is a rebellious kid. If anything, I'm pretty sure she talked you into this."
Disbelief whips through my body. I not expect this much of the truth to go through gossip. Usually truths were bent out of shape in court life. You had to pick out lives and lies to find the truth.
Hearing from a stranger the uncensored truth of it was shocking.
She shrugged as if it's no trouble. "I don't care what sort of mess you planned before whatever coup the butcher had done." Suddenly, darkness filled her eyes, drawn in with painful memory. She shook her head as if some sort of dark memory pulled her away. "No matter what the truth is, the money for your head will give me the freedom I need."
She moves to me to change me again, but I jerk away my hands. "What if I give you a better offer?"
The mercenary stills. I take it as a confirmation to keep going. "I'm going to find the princess. She has way more money than you can imagine. She will pay for me. Help me find her."
She chuckled, and the sound scratched from the bottom of her throat. "Bullshit, no princess cares about a slave boy. No matter how much of a good fuck he is."
I try to keep my breath steady. It's not the fact that she referred to me as a sex worker. And not the fact that she doesn't believe me, just like I do, that Helena will save me, because yes, I'm bluffing. But the word: "slave boy."
I never considered the other crime I committed only hours ago. since I burned the ship full of slave traders.
She narrows her eyes, and I am quick to smooth out my expression. "Clearly hate this Myasnik, butcher. Why give what he wants?"
I tried to seem nonchalant, my thoughts are quick to strike. She's not going to buy this.
She purses her lips and crosses her arms. "What makes you think that?
I roll my eyes as if obvious, but I always had the gift for reading people. "The expression you had when you talked about him was one of undiluted fear, and you only get that when you're running away from something. And by the armor you're carrying around, I'm assuming that you hail from the same country he does, so I can only assume that you were a soldier in his army." She gapes at me, then closes her mouth.
She seems to go through. Every emotion she has followed up there, but she lands on frustration. She huffs, "Fine. That's a deal. She had to lift me up from the ground, and we shook hands.