The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(39)

Men and women bustled about with steaming mugs and buttered confections. Gerard walked to the counter.

A portly woman with a wrap around her head greeted him. “Hello, dear, what can I get you?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gerard leaned over the shiny wood and checked the line of customers waiting for their tea.

“Aren’t we all?” The older woman winked. “For now, can I interest you in a cup of our chai and a pumpkin cookie?”

Gerard opened his mouth to say “no.”

“Yes.” A petite blonde sidled up to the bar. “Make it two cups and three cookies. I’m hungry.”

“Of course, love.” The barmaid bumbled away, leaving Gerard alone with his favorite blonde.

“Hello, Ellie.”

“Hello, Gerard.” In the daylight filtering through wavy glass windows, Ellie beamed. Here she didn’t wear a hood, cape, or a mask. Spots of natural rouge highlighted her cheekbones and a perky grin lifted her mouth. “What’re you doing here?”

He cleared his throat. “Looking for you.”

***

Ellie melted.

Not at his tone—bitter and tired—but at the glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of her. She fought the urge to preen. It’d taken her one second to recognize his frame as he walked into Meera’s shop. Her heart beat fast.

“What do you want?” Ellie accepted the tray of treats from Meera and passed over a few coins.

“I can pay,” Gerard interjected, digging in his pocket.

“Nonsense,” Ellie began.

Gerard waved off her protests and handed money over to Meera who returned Ellie’s coins.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” Gerard asked.

“Yes, go snag us a booth. I’ll carry this over.” Ellie grabbed the tray.

“Like hell you will.” Gerard took it from her and nodded for her to lead the way.

She plopped into the booth and took a hearty swig of the heavily creamed tea. Spicy, nutmeg-y, with the tiniest hint of cinnamon—a moan slipped past her lips.

Gerard cleared his throat.

She blushed. “Why the house call?”

“Something you said last night is bothering me.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his brew with an appreciative nod.

Ellie sank low in her seat, warm mug in her hands.

“You claimed you didn’t want the throne.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you in the Tournament?” He folded his arms.

She fidgeted. Thick curtains blocked sight and sound, privatizing the Tea Emporium’s many booths.

“Ellie.” Stern, Gerard cocked a brow. “Answer the question.”

She gave in, knowing he’d just as soon order her to tell him.

“I’m in the Tournament because—” she swallowed, mouth dry “—I know who’s behind the hex and I want to stop them.”

“Who?” Gerard leaned forward. Eyes alight with curiosity.

Ellie quickly relayed her suspicions about Dame Lange and Lady Olivia.

She inhaled the sandalwood scent of him, a trace of forest too—earthy, elemental. Primal. She tilted her head, so at odds with his station. “I was hoping you might be able to help me. I need proof.”

“Did I hear you correctly?” His grin turned feral.

“Yes.” She gritted her teeth, silencing her pithy retort.

“The Great and Powerful Ellie, my Cinder Girl, is asking for my aid.” Gerard sat back, arms draped over the plush cushions of the booth. “And what shall I ask in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Why nothing?”

“Because, as the crown prince of this country, it’s your sworn duty to come to the aid of your people. I’m the only way to save them. However, I don’t have to. Not like you do.” She lifted her chin, winning the upper hand, and the crease in Gerard’s brow proved he knew it. “Either you play nice, or I go straight back to my comfortable life, away from the court, the Citadel, and the lethal hex.”

“You wouldn’t sentence those women to death,” Gerard growled.

“No, I wouldn’t. But it’s not up to me if they’re cured or not. I can only counteract the hex for a little while, sustain their life, not save it.”

Meera had confirmed that Veronica and Marie still suffered fevers.

Gerard nodded. “You’re correct. I do need you.”

“We need to find the source, the contaminant,” she explained.

He only nodded, his gaze pinched and faraway. The tea cooled and no longer offered the comfort she craved.

“That’s why you’re so determined to stay in the Tournament,” he said, suddenly seeming to deflate.

Had he hoped she was participating for another reason?

Her heart fluttered. It wasn’t as if he wanted her to compete because she wished to win…was it? Did he want her as his bride? She shifted in the booth, convincing herself she’d read too much into his change in demeanor.

“Yes, I want to stay in to figure out how and why the women are getting infected.” She tapped her bottom lip, replaying the last competition. “Only a specific few fell under the spell. I can’t figure out how they’re hexing the infected.”