An unspoken exchange passed between them—tense, uncertain, laced with disbelief. I could only watch, confusion clouding every attempt to piece together any clues…other than the undeniable fact that whatever was transpiring had veered drastically off course of their training, the only silver lining in a situation where I otherwise was at a distinct disadvantage.
But not all was lost; distraction, after all, was a thief’s greatest ally. And I was nothing if not resourceful.
With a flick of my wrist, I tossed a small handful of glinting powder—swiped earlier from a perfumer’s drawer—into the candle’s flame. It exploded in a brilliant flash of gold and smoke, the scent of crushed spices and rose oil bursting into the air as the light seared across their vision.
I moved before the first shout. Dropping low, I drove my heel into the back of the second guard’s knee. He crumpled with a grunt, granting me the opportunity to lunge for the balcony and its promised freedom.
But I’d barely taken a step before a body slammed into mine, driving me to the floor. The breath wrenched from my lungs as cold stone met my cheek and steel kissed my shoulder.
“Should’ve stuck to stealing tapestries like a normal thief,” the guard growled.
I’d escaped worse odds—larger groups, tighter quarters, more impossible circumstances—but never had I faced guards this quick and precise. The royal guard, it seemed, earned their reputation. I had underestimated them…a mistake that might finally be my undoing.
Even with my failure looming, I refused to give up. I cursed and kicked, twisted and flailed, my limbs a flurry of motion. When brute force failed, I sank my teeth into the firm hand cinched around my torso. Garrett hissed a dark oath, but his grip remained unyielding, a vice forged by discipline and training.
“She’s a rabid animal,” he spat, rubbing his bitten hand. “The furthest thing from a royal possible. There’s no way this thief is worthy to lay hands on such a sacred object.”
The weight of the lie I’d spun about the prince pressed harder against my ribs. I had never claimed to be royal…but even I had to admit: pretending to be the secret lover of the missing prince had been bold, even for me.
Tomas’s jaw clenched. “Our orders were clear—no exceptions. Anyone who touches?—”
“I know the orders,” Garrett snapped before he leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a near-whisper that still reached my ears. “One would think a common thief couldn’t be the one, but the prophecy does claimfound where none would expect.” I stilled, listening intently to every word and inflection.
Tomas’s expression faltered. His eyes darted to me, and for the first time, they didn’t just hold suspicion, but unease…and a flicker of something bordering on belief.
“You can’t possibly think—” he began, his voice hushed. “She doesn’t look like?—”
“But we can’t deny what we saw,” Garrett replied, his voice low and strained. “Against all odds, it clearly responded to her.”
Their silence grew heavy, thick with a wordless exchange I couldn’t begin to decipher as they stared at me again—this time not as a criminal, an unfamiliar shift I found unsettling…and dangerous.
Tomas straightened. “Whatever we do with her, she’s too dangerous to interrogate here. We need to secure her. She snuck into the palace, stole something only a royal can touch, attacked the imperial guard that includes an officer, and claims to be the prince’s secret lover. Either she’s mad, a witch…or telling a truth no one’s ready to hear.”
“I vote mad,” the third guard muttered darkly.
I stiffened instinctively at the sound of rattling metal signifying the chains that I had yet to learn how to escape. “What are you going to do?” I asked, feigning bravado I didn’t feel.
“Until we understand what you are, we’ll let someone higher decide.”
Rank meant the power to enact punishment—imprisonment at best, execution at worst. My blood chilled at the thought. That might have been their plans for me, but I refused to go along with them. I put in greater effort to escape, refusing to give in.
This second round of thrashing wasn’t nearly as impressive of the first, tainted by the exhaustion beginning to wear my limbs and the guards’ lack of surprise. Yet it did yield a few successful injuries, forcing the third guard to join in to pin my legs.
“She’s all claws,” he muttered, breathless as I bucked hard enough to nearly unseat him. He shook his blond hair out of his eyes as he regained control.
“Shebitme,” Garrett snarled. “Twice!”
“Do you need a royal pardon for that?” I panted, my voice thick with defiance even amid my growing exhaustion. “Or just an embroidered handkerchief to cry into?”
An olive-skinned fist slammed into the stone beside my face, close enough for the air to sting my cheek. I didn’t flinch; I refused to give them the satisfaction.
Tomas wiped blood from his knuckles with a snarl. “Reckless woman. I’m not even sure the dungeon can hold her.”
“She’ll chew through the bars,” Garrett said dryly, clutching his own wounded hand. “Or charm them into opening for her.”
Despite my damning circumstances, my desperation hadn’t sunk me low enough not to find amusement in their reactions as I pretended to consider it. I smirked. “Depends on the bars.”
The blond guard pulled iron cuffs from his belt. I struggled once more, but the endless fight—along with using my magicearlier—had made me weak. My limbs ached and the adrenaline was wearing off. Cold metal snapped around my wrists, then ankles. Their grip dug into my arm as they hauled me upright, half-dragging, half-carrying. My head lolled, but I forced a grin through bloodied lips.
