Page 29 of Gilded

“That’s about as likely as me being the son of a duke, don’t you think?” He swept an arm down his plain clothes, practically undergarments, to prove his point. “And if it isn’t a family heirloom, then it must not be all that precious. Surely not as precious as your life. This is a bargain I’m offering you. My help for an apple and an egg.”

“A bit pricier than that,” she muttered. But her heart was sinking. She knew he had already won the argument.

He must have known, too, as a smug smile crossed his mouth. He rocked back on his heels. “What’ll it be? Do you want my help or not?”

She looked down at the locket, lightly tracing the golden clasp with the pad of her finger. It was almost heartbreaking to part with it, but she knew that was silly. This boy seemed convinced that he could help her. She didn’t know what he could do, but clearly he had some bit of magic, and besides—she didn’t exactly have a lot of options. His appearance was miraculous enough for one night.

Scowling, she lifted the chain from around her throat. She held it out to him, hoping he wasn’t about to laugh at her gullibility,again. He could easily grab the offering, cackle, and disappear as fast as he’d come.

But he did not.

In fact, he took the chain with the utmost care, a hint of deference on his face. And in that moment, it was as if the air around them pulsed. Pressing in against Serilda, muffling her ears, squeezing her chest.

Magic.

Then the moment passed, the magic evaporating.

Serilda inhaled deeply, as if it were the first real breath she’d taken all night.

The boy slipped the necklace over his head and jutted his chin toward her. “Move.”

Serilda tensed, startled by his abruptness. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in the way,” he said, gesturing at the spinning wheel. “I need space to work.”

“Would it hurt to ask politely?”

He fixed her with a look so openly annoyed, she wondered if his irritation might rival her own. “I’m helping you.”

“And I’ve paid you for the honor,” she said, indicating the necklace at his throat. “I don’t think a shred of civility is unwarranted.”

He opened his mouth, but hesitated. His brow furrowed. “Would you like me to give the necklace back and leave you to your fate?”

“Of course not. But you still haven’t told me how, exactly, you plan to help me.”

He sighed, a bit dramatically. “Suit yourself. After all, why be accommodating when one can be difficult?”

He stepped toward her—and kept coming, as if he might trample her like an errant mule cart if she didn’t get out of the way. Teeth gritted, Serilda planted her feet.

She did not move.

He did not stop.

He collided into her, his chin smacking her forehead, his chest knocking Serilda back with such force she stumbled and fell onto the straw with a surprisedoof.

“Ow!” she yelped, resisting the urge to rub the sore spot on her rump where the straw had only barely softened her fall. “What is wrong with you?” She glared up at him, both infuriated and baffled. If he thought she was going to let him intimidate her—!

But something in his expression stopped her tirade before it had really gotten started.

He was staring at her, but this was different from when he’d studied her before. His lips hung open. Eyes full of blatant disbelief, while one hand idly rubbed his shoulder where it had hit the wall when he, too, had stumbled back from their collision.

“Well?” shouted Serilda, climbing to her feet and picking stray bits of straw from her skirt. “What did you do that for?”

Planting her hands on her hips, she waited.

After a moment, he did approach her again, but with more hesitation. His expression was not as chagrined as it should have been, but more—curious. Something about the way he was studying her clouded Serilda’s ire. She was tempted to back away from him, not that there was anywhere for her to go. And if she hadn’t budged before, she most certainly wasn’t going to now. So she held her ground, tilting her chin up with a lifetime’s worth of stubbornness.

No apology came.