Page 42 of The Hood and his Thief

“And you do?”

“Not me.” Ansel shook his head. “But getting all the Talented out of the city is expensive. They need funds to help them start new lives, and getting the Gower’s servants out will take a substantial bribe.”

Rhosyn’s interest piqued. “A bribe? Why would you ever admit that to me.”

“Because…” Ansel paused, leaning back on his hands. “Because last night you gave me hope that you might understand after all. You might be an officer of the Royal Police, but what you told me makes me think it isn’t because you believe in the letter of the law.”

Rhosyn’s voice stuck in her throat. She had no good retort to that, even as she might wish to deny it—to insist she was loyal to Chief Thorne when the police had already suffered so much corruption.

“I might understand,” she eventually choked out instead.

Ansel nodded, as if he saw how difficult of a concession she had made. “To help the Talented truly be free of their sponsorships, we need to destroy the documents binding them to their sponsors. If we don’t, their sponsors have the legal right to find them and force them back into service. Without that evidence, though, they have no legal hold over their Talented servants.”

“Which is why you raided Contessa’s office,” Rhosyn said.

“Contessa? You’re on a first name basis with the King’s advisor?” Ansel seemed taken aback.

“She is married to Nathanial Woodrow.” Rhosyn shot him a pointed look, hoping not to have to spell out her connection.

Realization dawned. “The Beast.” He nodded.

“Don’t call him that, but yes.”

Ansel snorted. “I saw him at that party. He’s no less a Beast now than his reputation painted him as when he was the leader of the Lions. It’s what makes him such an effective bodyguard. He just has the backing of a king now.”

Rhosyn frowned and tucked that line of thought away to examine later—that Nate was both the King’s protector and the same headstrong fighter she had always looked up to as a brother.

“So, you got the sponsorship papers from Contessa’s office?” Rhosyn prompted.

Ansel sighed heavily. “Yes and no. We got the batch that had already been completed, but after that, the next set was put in a safe. Unfortunately, many of the Gowers’ current staff’s papers are in that set. We tried to steal them too, but we haven’t been able to crack the safe. Thus, we need the money to bribe a guard to take them for us. It will be a hefty sum.”

At the mention of cracking a safe, a thought dawned on Rhosyn, accompanied by a memory. For an instant she was back on a liberation mission with Nate and Kristoff. A small girl tugged against her hand, refusing to leave and pointing a dirt smudged hand at a safe in the corner of the office they slept in, laying on the floor and locked in by the factory foreman. Even now, Rhosyn could feel the light thuds of tumblers falling into place under her fingers as she cracked the safe, the subtle clicking in her ear signaling her success as she pressed the side of her face to the cold metal. Inside she had found a delicate gold necklace—the only memento the girl had of her executed mother, taken from her by the factory’s foreman.

From that day until she grew out of the Den, the girl had never taken that necklace off.

Stealing sponsorship papers so more Talented could be free wouldn’t be that different.

“What if you didn’t have to bribe the guards?” Rhosyn asked.

“We don’t have anybody good enough at lock picking to get into that safe. And unfortunately, our magician’s Talent doesn’t work unless he’s seen the object in question, so he can’t blink the papers of the safe.”

Ansel’s words nearly distracted Rhosyn from what she was about to offer—against her better judgment—but she stayed with the task at hand.

“But if you did, you wouldn’t have to rob the Worthingtons?”

Ansel looked at her curiously. “We’d have to stretch the circus’s earnings between the Gowers’ servants to give them a fresh start, but it could be done.”

Rhosyn took a deep breath, stealing herself.

“I can crack the safe.”

Ansel blinked once. Twice.

Silence stretched through the room, broken only by the noises from the common room outside.

“You can?”

Rhosyn released a stolen breath, somehow relieved that his question wasn’t why she would do such a thing. “I’m not just the best pickpocket in London. I happen to also be the second best lockpick.”