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Authors: Marie Rutkoski
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because Kestrel heard the breathless silence that came
just before Verex kissed her.
His lips were dry. Polite.
She had known it was coming, it was all planned, and
she had done her best to be as far away from herself as pos-
sible when it happened. But her mind couldn’t stay asleep
forever. It told her to stay put, don’t shrivel away, this is not
so bad, the kiss is a thing, an empty thing, a scrap of blank
paper. Yet Kestrel was awake, and she knew the taste of her
own lies.
“I’m sorry,” Verex said quietly when he pulled away.
And then they were dancing before everybody.
The kiss had numbed her. Verex’s words didn’t register
at fi rst. When they did, they seemed like her own words,
like she’d been saying them to her old self, the one who had
given up Arin. I’m sorry, she told herself. Forgive me, she’d
said. Kestrel had thought she’d known what her choices
had cost her, but when the prince had kissed her she sharply
-1—
understood that she was going to pay for this for the rest of
0—
68
her life.
+1—
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 68
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9/25/14 2:52 PM
“Kestrel?”
“Sorry,” Kestrel repeated as they spun across the ball-
CRIME
room fl oor. The prince’s feet had no natural talent, but he
’S
was grimly capable, the way someone might be if his danc-
ing master came to lessons armed with a switch.
“I’ve been unforgivable,” Verex said. “Is that why you
THE WINNER
look so miserable?”
Kestrel studied the piping on his jacket.
Verex said, “Maybe there’s one fi nal reason you are de-
termined to marry me.”
The violinists’ bows sank down across the strings.
“My father is holding something over you,” Verex said.
Kestrel glanced up, then away again. Verex drew their
clasped hands to his chest. The crowd murmured and
sighed.
He shrugged. “It’s how my father is. But what does
he—?”
“Verex, am I so bad a choice for a wife?”
He smiled a little. The dance was ending. “Not so bad.”
“Let’s agree, then, to make the best of things,” Kestrel
said.
Verex bowed, and before Kestrel could decide whether
this was his yes or simply meant to mark the dance’s end,
he passed her hand to a senator’s. Then there was another
dance, and another senator, and she was whirled into the
exchequer’s arms.
After that, faces and titles no longer held much mean-
ing.
Finally, she stepped deliberately wrong so that some-
—-1
one trod on her toes. She soothed her partner’s horrifi ed
69
—0
—+1
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apologies, but begged for a rest and made certain she
SKI
O
limped a little as she went to sit in the corner of gamers.
Kestrel chose a gilt chair set apart from the others, but
it wouldn’t be long before someone pulled a chair near, and
she would have to talk and smile even though the muscles
MARIE RUTK
in her cheeks felt as if someone had pinched them.
She needn’t have worried. All eyes were focused on the
crown prince, who sat across a Borderlands table, facing a
highly ranked lieutenant of the city guard.
The game was careening toward a humiliating end for
the prince. The lieutenant had already captured many of
Verex’s key game pieces, lining up the green fi gures in a
row. Verex’s general was isolated from his troops and fl anked
by the lieutenant’s. The marble pieces tapped out their
paths, knocked each other down.
Verex’s eyes lifted to meet hers across the room. He set
a tentative fi nger on his green infantry.
It was just a game. What did it matter if Verex made
the wrong move, and lost?
Yet Kestrel thought of Arin, who hadn’t answered the
emperor’s summons, and wondered what he would lose be-
cause of it.
She thought of the possibility of peace with Verex.
She held the prince’s gaze and shook her head— the
slightest of gestures, a mere tip of her
just before Verex kissed her.
His lips were dry. Polite.
She had known it was coming, it was all planned, and
she had done her best to be as far away from herself as pos-
sible when it happened. But her mind couldn’t stay asleep
forever. It told her to stay put, don’t shrivel away, this is not
so bad, the kiss is a thing, an empty thing, a scrap of blank
paper. Yet Kestrel was awake, and she knew the taste of her
own lies.
“I’m sorry,” Verex said quietly when he pulled away.
And then they were dancing before everybody.
The kiss had numbed her. Verex’s words didn’t register
at fi rst. When they did, they seemed like her own words,
like she’d been saying them to her old self, the one who had
given up Arin. I’m sorry, she told herself. Forgive me, she’d
said. Kestrel had thought she’d known what her choices
had cost her, but when the prince had kissed her she sharply
-1—
understood that she was going to pay for this for the rest of
0—
68
her life.
+1—
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 68
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 68
9/25/14 2:52 PM
9/25/14 2:52 PM
“Kestrel?”
“Sorry,” Kestrel repeated as they spun across the ball-
CRIME
room fl oor. The prince’s feet had no natural talent, but he
’S
was grimly capable, the way someone might be if his danc-
ing master came to lessons armed with a switch.
“I’ve been unforgivable,” Verex said. “Is that why you
THE WINNER
look so miserable?”
Kestrel studied the piping on his jacket.
Verex said, “Maybe there’s one fi nal reason you are de-
termined to marry me.”
The violinists’ bows sank down across the strings.
“My father is holding something over you,” Verex said.
Kestrel glanced up, then away again. Verex drew their
clasped hands to his chest. The crowd murmured and
sighed.
He shrugged. “It’s how my father is. But what does
he—?”
“Verex, am I so bad a choice for a wife?”
He smiled a little. The dance was ending. “Not so bad.”
“Let’s agree, then, to make the best of things,” Kestrel
said.
Verex bowed, and before Kestrel could decide whether
this was his yes or simply meant to mark the dance’s end,
he passed her hand to a senator’s. Then there was another
dance, and another senator, and she was whirled into the
exchequer’s arms.
After that, faces and titles no longer held much mean-
ing.
Finally, she stepped deliberately wrong so that some-
—-1
one trod on her toes. She soothed her partner’s horrifi ed
69
—0
—+1
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 69
135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 69
9/25/14 2:52 PM
9/25/14 2:52 PM
apologies, but begged for a rest and made certain she
SKI
O
limped a little as she went to sit in the corner of gamers.
Kestrel chose a gilt chair set apart from the others, but
it wouldn’t be long before someone pulled a chair near, and
she would have to talk and smile even though the muscles
MARIE RUTK
in her cheeks felt as if someone had pinched them.
She needn’t have worried. All eyes were focused on the
crown prince, who sat across a Borderlands table, facing a
highly ranked lieutenant of the city guard.
The game was careening toward a humiliating end for
the prince. The lieutenant had already captured many of
Verex’s key game pieces, lining up the green fi gures in a
row. Verex’s general was isolated from his troops and fl anked
by the lieutenant’s. The marble pieces tapped out their
paths, knocked each other down.
Verex’s eyes lifted to meet hers across the room. He set
a tentative fi nger on his green infantry.
It was just a game. What did it matter if Verex made
the wrong move, and lost?
Yet Kestrel thought of Arin, who hadn’t answered the
emperor’s summons, and wondered what he would lose be-
cause of it.
She thought of the possibility of peace with Verex.
She held the prince’s gaze and shook her head— the
slightest of gestures, a mere tip of her
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