The sun had barely finished rising, but Annie had clearly been busy. I narrowed my gaze at her hands.
“Where are your gloves?”
Annie scrunched her nose and dug into the pockets of thesmock tied around her waist.
“In here. I was digging for shells and didn’t want to get sand in them.” She slipped them on and wriggled her fingers inside the thin fabric. “See? Still clean.”
“You didn’t take them off around any of the servants, did you?”
“Of course not. I know the rules. I don’t want to get kidnapped again.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “It’s very inconvenient.”
I scowled.Inconvenientwas one way to put it.Terrifyingher parents and her uncle was another. When Liana first met Annie at the orphanage, she'd sensed the latent magic growing inside her. It wasn’t until later that we all discovered what that magic was.
With a simple touch, Annie could show someone the path to whatever they desired most. She was a living map, but using that power also turned her into a beacon, leading those searching for her magic straight to her.
Hence the kidnapping. And the rescue, led by Bowen, who’d been out for blood, along with her equally unforgiving uncle.
Yes, we left bodies in our wake.
No, we were not sorry.
Since then, Annie was required to wear gloves until she learned to control her power. In a way, she was lucky. She’d ended up with a family who understood the value of her magic, as well as the lengths people would go to acquire it. And there was no better protection than an ex-treasure hunter and a thief.
I tugged her pigtail and spun her around to face the hallway. “Now that you’re properly attired, let’s go scrounge up somebreakfast. I’m starving too.”
Annie giggled as she skipped ahead. “You’re always starving, Uncle Gavin.”
“Where’s your brother?” I asked, following her toward the kitchen.
“Will's still asleep. He snores so loud I can hear it through the wall. And when I bang on it, he gets louder.”
“I think he’s doing that on purpose,” I said, swinging open the kitchen door.
I winked at the cook, already busy preparing the morning meal. She angled her head toward the pantry, used to the two of us sneaking snacks at strange hours. I swiped a loaf of bread, a jar of honey, and a thick pad of butter resting in a porcelain dish. Then we headed into the dining room, where I dumped our spoils onto the long wooden table.
The cook followed on my heels, placing a steaming cup of coffee under my nose.
“You’re a saint, Martha. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “And you look like a scoundrel. Get a haircut, young man.” Martha waved a hand in my direction, compelled, and more than willing, to deliver her frank opinion. “And shave that mug of yours.”
I cocked my head and ran my fingers over the thick stubble covering my jaw. “I think I look rugged with a beard. Brooding and very mysterious.”
Annie nodded, spreading butter on a slice of bread. “You look like a pirate.”
“See! A pirate.”
Martha scoffed. “A lazy, unkempt, dysfunctional pirate.”
I sipped deeply from my cup. “That’s my favorite kind.”
“Good morning, everyone,” Bowen said, interrupting Martha’s tirade. He pulled out a chair for his wife and waited until she was settled before taking his own.
It was strange to see Bowen so content. He had always been the most unguarded and altruistic member of our crew, but knowing how far he’d fallen, it still felt surreal. If I were less jaded, I might believe there was hope for the rest of us.
“You’re up early, Lady McKenzie,” Martha said, walking to the sideboard to pour her a glass of juice.
Liana gave us all a tired smile and placed a hand over her belly. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
