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Chapter Three

T rust the pretty boy , I’d thought. Take gifts from a stranger, what could go wrong!

I jingled the shackles on my wrists, realizing that iron wasn’t really my color either. A fitful night’s sleep on a stone-cold floor had been enough to make my head feel better, but now the rest of me was aching from head to toe.

I paced around the cell as far as my chains would let me wander. The heavy shackles were bolted into the wall, right next to another shackled friend of mine who was looking a little on the thin side, mostly because he was made up of only bones.

The dusty skeleton sat in silence, reminding me of Jean.

..but without skin. I sank down against the wall.

“So, been here long?” I tilted my head toward my cell mate, accepting his silence as an unspoken backstory filled with adventure, trauma, and a whirlwind romance.

“Goodness, that’s pretty wild, Jim. Can I call you Jim? ”

Again, no response. I think he liked it.

“Perfect, Jim Reaper it is, then.” I shook his hand, wincing when it popped right off. I set it back down, close enough to the joint that it looked like he was just really flexible. “Let me guess, did a pretty face get you locked up, too?”

Poor Jim. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak of it.

“Yeah, I thought so.” I nodded. “Such a shame. I bet you were a great-looking guy when you still had a face.”

“That’s a woman.” A low voice echoed from the prison entrance, scaring me enough that I jumped to my feet and knocked over Jim in the process. “This is a women’s prison.”

Jimerella fell to the floor, breaking into pieces and scattering across the cell.

Her skull rolled to the edge of the prison bars, clicking against the iron right in front of the approaching pair of feet.

I followed my gaze up from his polished boots, noticing the expensive black silk that made up his clothes and the gaudy rings on his smooth hands.

When I finally found his face, I felt like my jaw was going to drop on the floor next.

Deep-set eyes found me in the darkness, piercing through me with an almost hungry look.

Raven-black hair curled around his forehead, doing little to soften his glare but doing plenty for his strong jawline and straight nose.

His tall, muscular build made me feel small, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to explore the shadow he cast rather than hide from it.

“Oh?” I cleared my throat before I could be caught drooling, then looked down at Jimerella’s scattered remains.

“A pretty boy got her into this mess. That adds up.” I kicked at what might have been a collar bone, trying to nudge it back into a more flattering position for my fallen friend.

The alluring jailkeeper raised a brow at me but didn’t grace me with his deep voice again.

His silence was jarring, and I felt a lump bob up in my throat.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, then? Have you come to finish me off? Or am I destined to blend into the décor like my friend here?”

He stepped further into the light, the stark shadows accenting the almost golden gleam in his eyes.

He studied me for a moment, tracing his eyes over my filthy attire and frizzy braid before finally settling them on my eyes.

His gaze lingered there, making my shackles feel heavier, like I couldn’t escape that look even if I wanted to.

“That’s entirely up to you.” He broke the silence, his husky voice echoing around the stone walls.

He wrapped his hands around the bars, his rings clinking against the metal with a melodic tune.

“I’m not one to pull friends apart.” He flicked his eyes down to the fallen skull.

“But if you’re not interested in joining the scenery, I may have a job for you beyond this cell. ”

I nibbled the edge of my lip, feeling a little extra cautious of good-looking men after yesterday’s events.

“Job?” I crossed my arms, tangling my chains in the process. “You mean like community service? To repent for my crimes?”

“Close.” His lips curled upward. “But there’s no need for repentance. Not when I’m in need of your more sinful skill set.”

I jerked my chains, only tangling them more until I felt claustrophobic. Something wasn’t right here. Unlike Adir, this man was no servant. His attire alone was enough to promenade wealth and status. Was he even supposed to be down here?

“What do you want from me?” I shifted back a step.

“I want your help,” he said bluntly. “You are a thief, are you not?”

Someone as rich as him wants something stolen?

“It depends on who’s asking.” I tried to sound brave, but I wasn’t really good at facing threats. I was more of the run, hide, and laugh it off with my bird type of person.

“You’re already in the sultan’s prison,” the man said with a half-hearted laugh.

“Confessing to your talents won’t get you anywhere worse.

You might as well make use of your skills while there’s still a chance to save your skin, unless you enjoy the dungeon’s current fashions.

” He flicked his eyes to the scattered bones.

I frowned. I wasn’t sure how good I would look with my hip bone three feet away from my spine. He had a point. It wasn’t as if anyone else had come around offering me a job. “What’s the job?” I asked hesitantly.

“I’m glad you asked.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a rusted key to dangle in the dim light. “I’m in need of someone expendable who can retrieve something priceless.”

“Goodness, you really know how to flatter a girl,” I said with a sour pout.

“Find me what I want, and I’ll do much more than flatter you,” he said with a wicked smile.

He dipped his hand into his pocket again, producing a very familiar collection of bracelets.

My eyes widened as I recognized the gold bangles and the bejeweled bracelet Adir had gifted me.

“And there’s more where this came from. Take these, for example. ..”

He slid his hand through the bars, flashing me two oversized diamond rings. I inched closer, the glittering stones luring me in. They were beautiful, and easily expensive enough to buy me a proper home.

Well, at least one of them was.. .

“I hope you don’t plan to pay me entirely with fake jewels.” I nodded toward the bigger ring. The stone was breathtaking, but the clarity and cut gave it away as a cheap crystal that had only been polished to masquerade as a priceless gem.

“I beg your pardon?” The man curled his fingers.

“It’s a fake,” I said. “A convincing one, but a fake nonetheless. I’ve seen better frauds in the back alleys of the bazaar.”

He slowly pulled his hands back through the bars, and to my surprise, his eyes lit up. He placed the key in the lock, twisting it open with a deafening screech of metal.

“You’ll do nicely,” he said in a pleased voice. “Now are you coming or not?”