Her emotions were swelling inside of her, almost uncontrollably. All her life, she had wanted to be free. Only a Romani man could break the ring off of her. She knew she was violating the customs. She knew it could cost her her life. But if their quest was successful, they would remake their world, and it would be a world without the Romani curse. If what Tyrus had said was true, many Romani would be removing their earrings.
He looked at her sternly. “You said you did not know what would happen to you if you removed the earring. Was that a lie?”
“Of course it was a lie,” she answered impatiently, wanting to choke him. “You do not fully understand how good I am at lying. But this is the truth. This is the truth now. I wanted to tell you, Paedrin. I wanted to confide in you. I was not sure if I could trust you. I was not sure I could trust Tyrus. I knew I could trust Annon because he is my brother, but he’s not strong enough to save me from a man like Kiranrao.”
Paedrin nodded slowly. “What you are saying is the girl I thought I knew is a lie.”
She let out a pent-up breath and then stared him hard in the eyes. “The best of me was real. The rest was a lie. I was playing a role, Paedrin. He who pays the piper calls the tune. Kiranrao called the tune. I was dancing for my freedom. But I have been offered an opportunity to spend the rest of my life living in Silvandom. Freedom, at long last. I will snatch it! That’s the one place where the Romani cannot find me. Now break this earring. I don’t want to wear it a moment longer.”
She stared into his eyes, willing him to obey her. Words would not persuade him to trust her again, only actions would. And this act, something he had admonished her to do when they first met was one she hoped would begin to soften his heart to her.
Hettie turned her cheek toward him and smoothed the dark hair away from her neck. She thought she saw him swallow, but she kept her eyes locked on his.
“What will Kiranrao do to you for this? I need to know the consequence.”
“I don’t know what he will do for sure. He may do nothing.”
“I doubt it.”
She sighed. “The punishment for disobedience among the Romani is poison. There is a cruel poison called monkshood. Only Romani men and only a few of them are taught the antidote. When I was a child, I saw one of my sisters poisoned for disobedience. They let her suffer a long time before administering the cure. The symptoms are horrible and painful. Break this earring, Paedrin. The Romani will be the Arch-Rike’s next victims.”
Paedrin touched the earring as if it were a slug or a disgusting insect. His finger brushed her earlobe. He used both hands to find the spot where the ring had been welded together. Looking her in the eye, he snapped it.
“You are free,” he whispered.
Hettie bent the hoop wider and unattached it from her ear. She studied it in her hand, noticing the dull gleam from the tarnished gold. The feeling of nakedness on her ear was startling. She touched her skin gingerly.
Then she stared Paedrin in the eye. “I will never lie to you again,” she promised, crushing the hoop in her hand and throwing it down on the ground.
His gaze narrowed. “Someone just entered the alley behind us.”
Hettie turned and saw the Preachán immediately. He saw them, turned, and ran.
Paedrin started to go after him, but Hettie grabbed the front of his tunic. “We don’t have enough time. You said you needed to see Master Shivu to learn where the Shatalin temple is. This may be our only chance.”
His look turned to anger and he shook his head with frustration. “How I despise it when you are right.”
Paedrin had been raised in the city of Kenatos and he knew the streets and byways. He wore the traditional tunic and sandals of a Bhikhu that made him an ordinary sight in the city. Even escorting Hettie would not seem that odd, since the Bhikhu were known for their charity and integrity and she looked more like someone raised in the woods than a Romani girl. He glanced back at her for a fraction of a moment, unable to stop the pain in his heart every time he saw her.
He had been fighting his growing affection for her for some time. He had buried it beneath the layers of his duty, but still felt it squirming to break free. It was her betrayal that had finally forced him to come to terms with how he truly felt about her. When she was Tyrus’s abandoned niece, struggling against the odds to find a treasure to buy her freedom, she had been nearly irresistible to his sensibilities. That she was Aeduan by race had caused him some concern, but having grown up amidst all the races in Kenatos, it was not that unusual. She was beautiful in a natural way, not as the painted faces in the city in their expensive gowns. And her Romani accent had grown on him, along with all its witty sayings. Now that she was unmasked as Kiranrao’s tool, the entire facade crumbled. The basis of his feelings was as shattered as the Paracelsus Towers they had just left.