“Come on, Saf,” he said, stepping toward her. “You haven’t been able to rest since Dax promoted you.”
Safire hadn’t rested since long before that. She couldn’t afford to rest.
“Come with us,” urged Torwin, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he smiled that half smile of his. “Have a little faith in your soldats. Letthemcatch this Death Dancer while we’re in the Star Isles. I’m sure when we return, she’ll be waiting for you in a cell.”
Not likely, thought Safire as her fingertips tapped each hilt of her throwing knives. The feel of them, there at her hip, calmed her a little. And as she did, Asha’s question echoed through her mind.
What is the cockiest, most valuable thing she could possibly steal from you?
Suddenly, Safire knew the perfect thing to bait a trap for the Death Dancer.
“I should get back,” said Safire, already thinking of a plan. Sighing loudly, Torwin dropped his arm. Safire looked from him to her cousin. “Be safe, all right? No flying in bad weather.”
Asha nodded, then pulled her into a hug. Safire squeezed her back.
When Asha let go, Safire turned to Sorrow.
“And you be good,” she told the dragon.
Sorrow only tilted his head, watching Safire back away through sad, silent eyes.
“Good luck with that thief of yours!” Torwin called after her.
Safire nodded, waving. The dried pine needles crunchedbeneath her feet as she headed for the hunting path. But as she made her way down through the Rift and toward Firgaard’s gates, she couldn’t shake the sense that someone was dogging her, keeping just out of sight.
Whenever Safire turned to look, as ever, she found nothing but shadows.
Three
Go to Firgaard. Steal the king’s jewel. Report to Kor in three days.
Those were Eris’s orders. The job was long since done now. And yet she hadn’t reported to Jemsin’s protégé: a pirate named Kor who who was in charge of Eris while Jemsin met with the empress.
It was foolish. Way too risky. But after four days of playing games with the commandant, Eris wasn’t quite ready to give up. A raven had followed her through Firgaard’s streets earlier. Eris panicked at the sight of it until she realized its eyes were black, not red. That it wasn’t Jemsin’s summoner; it was just a boring old bird.
Still, its presence was enough to scare Eris. And her fear was a reminder: it was time to go.
She had one last thing to do before she left. Because the commandant was right: Eriswasa cocky bastard. And more than the triumph of eluding Safire was the pleasure that camewith knowing just how furious Eris made her.
The anger showed every time Safire spoke about her.
Every time shethoughtabout her.
The knowledge of that brought Eris a rush of irrational pleasure.
Eris smiled to herself now as she stood behind the terrace curtains of the commandant’s bedroom, keeping herself hidden. She knew the commandant’s routine by now. You didn’t creep through the palace without memorizing the movements of the person in charge of its security first. Eris knew when Safire retired for the evening. So she waited.
But as she fingered the stem of the scarp thistle in her hand, tracing the thorns, she started to have second thoughts. Whywasshe still here? She should have headed straight for the sea after stealing that ruby. She should be heading for it now.
She was four days late reporting to Kor’s ship, theSea Mistress. She couldn’t stay here much longer. To do so was to tempt the captain’s wrath.
Forget the knife,said a voice inside her. Step across now and head for theSea Mistress.
But something else—something stronger than her fear of Jemsin—rooted Eris to that spot behind the commandant’s curtain. Maybe it was nothing more than recklessness, but Eris wasn’t leaving until she got what she’d come for.
There was a time when, tired of his abuse, she had tried to escape her captain. That was before she knew better. The first time Eris ran, she got as far as Firefall—a city on the south shore of the Silver Sea—before Jemsin’s summoner found herand dragged her back to his ship, theHyacinth—where several lashes and a week without food or sunlight awaited her.
She tried twice more. Both times, she was caught. Both times, her punishment was more severe than the last. She carried the scars still—on her wrists and ankles, and across her back.
