Page 10 of The Bull's Beauty
Ulric taps a claw against his chin, pretending to think. “Gold. Let’s say…fifty pieces.”
“Fifty?” My voice comes out like a snarl. “For information you already have?”
“For arescue mission,big guy.” He flashes those teeth again. “I won’t just tell you where she is, I’ll sneak in, help get her out, and maybe keep your horns from decorating an Orc tent.”
“You could just lead me into a trap.”
“I could. But why would I kill my own payday? You’re worth more to me breathing than rotting. Dead men don’t hand over coin, and I’m not in the business of working for free.”
I hate him.
But, I hate the thought of Beatrice being hurt even more.
“Fine.” I spit the word. “You get me in. You help me get her out. Alive. You get your coin after.”
“Half up front.”
“No.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care either way. “Then, no deal.”
Every second I waste with him, she gets further away.
I reach into my belt pouch and count out twenty-five gold pieces, tossing them at his feet. “That’s your down payment. The rest when she’s safe.”
He crouches, scooping them up without shame. “Now we’re talking.”
“Show me where they took her.Now.”
Chapter Eight
Beatrice
The Orc dragging me has a split lip—my gift to him—and yet he continues to grin like I’m the prize hog at the harvest festival. “She’s still kickin’,” he bellows over his shoulder, and the others hoot in response.
The walk to their village feels endless. My boots catch on roots, mud splashes up my skirts, and the brute yanks me along like I’m a stubborn mule. Every step I take is laced with rage. My wrists ache from straining against his grip, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me stumble. If I’m going down, it’ll be with my chin high and my teeth bared.
Theirvillage, if you can even call it that, spreads out before me, and it’s worse than I imagined. Huts are slapped together from mud and animal hides, sagging and steaming in the swampy heat. Smoke curls lazily from fire pits, carrying with it the greasy stench of burning meat. Bones hang from strings like wind chimes, clattering in the breeze. A barefoot child darts past, chewing something that might have been a frog.
It’s a mess.
A hot, humid, stinking, Orc-infested mess.
“You touch me again,” I growl, thrashing as the brute lifts me like I weigh nothing, “and I swear I’ll—”
He just laughs, the sound vibrating right through his chest, and tosses me into a cage made of logs lashed together with rough twine. I crash to the floor in an ungraceful heap. My braid is coming undone, my hair sticking to my sweaty face.
“Oof,” someone says from the corner. “New roomie?”
I whip around, ready to rip into whoever dares speak to me, and find a human girl lounging in the corner of the cage.
She looks around my age, maybe, though she’s got one of those faces that makes you second-guess. Fair skin, coppery-blonde hair, and small, sharp features that make her look…sly. Dainty, sure, but in that tricky way where you just know she’s smarter than she seems.
“Name’s Cassia,” she says, “Welcome to the hellhole. You’ll love it. Great amenities. Five-star kidnapping.”
I blink. “Are you joking?”
“Unless you’ve got a blade stuffed in that cleavage, then yeah. Humor helps.”
