I don’t understand what I’ve done to offend him. I looked at him the way Darius taught me to and I tried to show my interest by sitting on his lap. Yes, I’ve earned a reward in the form of a piece of cheese, but I feel like I’ve done the wrong thing, all the same.
“As lovely as you are, I prefer to keep this… arrangement professional, for the time being.”
Professional?
“You really should eat,” he continues. “You’re dreadfully pale.”
At last, a genuine smile stretches my lips, even as I’m offended by his words. “Eating won't help that, I’m afraid. I’m as pale as a fucking shade and always have been.”
He chuckles at this. “Good thing a Shepherd hasn’t come for you yet.”
I’m fairly sure Darius would beat off any Shepherd or Shepherdess that came to the door with their gilded lantern hung from a crook, priest in tow, with the intent to take my soul. The bastard would still try to sell me even if I died. But I’m not counting on meeting my end with the grim-faced reapers of souls just yet.
I should be so lucky.
“Darius wouldn’t even let a Shepherd take me without paying.”
The man snorts once in amusement and pops a grape into his mouth, chewing to disguise the distinct sound of his laughter. I take a tentative nibble on my piece of cheese and close my eyes when the sharp bite of cheddar washes across my tongue.
Gods above, it’s been so long since I had a decent meal.
We sit in silence for another minute or so.
I’m most of the way through the wedge of cheese when he finally speaks again.
“My name is Herrick. Herrick Vorst.” He watches my face for any flicker of recognition, as if he’s accustomed to people knowing who he is. I bob my head once, hoping he’s not going to grow angry when he realizes just how ignorant I really am. But I haven’t heard much other than whispers of gossip and rumors at the tavern since I came to live here at sixteen.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say honestly, even if I’m surprised and confused he hasn’t even tried to touch me yet. But I’m also grateful. Even if I end up fucking him at the end of the night (which is assuredly going to happen, considering he paid for me), this meal is still a kindness I hadn’t expected to enjoy.
Herrick cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing on me again. I honestly don’t understand what he’s trying to puzzle out when he looks at me like that.
“What’s your name?” he asks, finally.
“Snow,” I start, figuring that’s the answer he wants—the thrill of hearing it repeated to him—that he will be the first man, outside of Darius, to bed the famous Snow White. As that realization hits me, I can’t hide the anxiety that flows through me.
What if I disappoint him? What if I’m as terrible at fucking as Darius tells me? What if I get yet another beating at this man’s hands?
“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Don’t give me your stage name, please.”
“I don’t understand,” I start. What does this man want from me? Every time I try to give him what I think he’s asking of me, I’m wrong!
“Some of those simpletons might believe you’re really called Snow White, but we both know better.” He takes a breath as my heart starts pounding. “What’s your name?”
I swallow the last of the cheese thickly. I don’t know why he’s asking me this?
It’s just your name! I think to myself.
But, somehow, telling him my name feels more intimate than having sex with him. Thousands of men have seen me in the last few years, but only one of them knows my given name. Darius. If I tell this man my name, it would make him privy to a secret only Darius knows.
And it’s that last thought that spurs me to give Herrick Vorst an honest answer, because I dislike the thought of dying one day with only Darius knowing my true name.
“Neva Valkoinen.”
“Neva,” he repeats, wrapping his tongue around the contours of my name as though it tastes sweet. Then he laughs a little to himself. “So, perhaps I’m the simpleton, eh?”
“Simpleton?” I ask, frowning at him.
He nods. “Your name really does mean White Snow.”
I grin, despite my trepidation. This man is far smarter than a casual observer would be led to believe. “Yes.”
“How did you arrive with a name like that?”
“Well, my parents came up with it,” I answer.
“I meant how did you get your stage name?”
“Oh,” I answer. “Darius spent days poring over books, trying to come up with a stage name for me that sounded appropriate. He thought it would be clever to play off my actual name.”
“A clever thought for an idiot,” Herrick responds.
I immediately feel the smile on my lips. “You should watch what you say,” I whisper to him, confidentially. “You never know who could be listening.”
He nods and smiles fully, making me realize he has a dimple on one side of his mouth.
“Point taken,” he says.
I drop my gaze to the plate of food as my stomach growls again. He motions to it and this time, I stand up and help myself to each type of fruit, five crackers and another few wedges of cheese.
I return to the chair he set me in and face him again, only to find his eyes already focused on me. “You must be very well-traveled to know what my name meant.”
His eyes grow a touch more guarded, though his amused smile doesn’t fade. “You could say that, I suppose. I’m a merchant, after all.”
