Page 6 of The Hood and his Thief

Joseph stopped in front of a large man with the most impressive mustache Rhosyn had ever laid eyes on. Bowing beside her, Joseph surreptitiously stepped on Rhosyn’s toes, startling her into a less-than graceful curtsy of her own. Still, it was with great effort that Rhosyn ripped her eyes away from the silver facial hair, polished and shaped so long that it nearly stuck out past the man’s ears.

“Mr. Gower, allow me to introduce Officer Rhosyn Walsh of the Royal Police,” Joseph introduced as they both stood up straight once more. “As one of our most experienced officers in the lower city, she sees the benefits of your generosity firsthand.”

Rhosyn smiled politely as Mr. Gower’s eye swept up and down her form. The smug superiority of his gaze rubbed icily against her skin, and Rhosyn had the sudden urge to point out that it would take more than offering better lives to twelve Talented to undo the harms of the Inquiries to the lower city. She swallowed down the barb, surprised at the sudden ferocity of the thought, and smiled wider instead. After all, Mr. Gower was setting an example, which they hoped more socialites at this ball would follow.

“I hear you’ve sponsored young Paul and Olivia,” Rhosyn said. “They’re wonderful children. I doubt you’ll regret it.”

“You know them well?” Mr. Gower’s eyes narrowed and Rhosyn swallowed, sensing it was unwise to admit that they had lived under her care as young Lions at the Den. It was there that Paul’s Talent for lulling people into deep sleep with his voice, and Olivia’s for lighting fires with a clap of her hands, sprung to life—back when an obvious Talent like that could easily lead to a short drop from the end of a noose.

“I met them when they were quite young,” Rhosyn hedged. “I’m glad to hear they are doing well.”

Mr. Gower nodded. “Having so many Talented working in one household can be challenging, but I manage to keep them in line. I’m sure my newest additions’ abilities will be a valuable asset.”

Rhosyn bit her lip to keep from frowning, hiding the expression by looking down and smoothing her skirts—a gesture she had learned from Contessa. She couldn’t let the way the man’s words rankled show. For him, the Talented sponsorships were an investment—one that the lower city sorely needed.

“I do hope they turn out to be trustworthy,” Mr. Gower barreled on, seemingly oblivious to Rhosyn biting the inside of her cheek. “I’m afraid I don’t know who to trust in my own household these days.”

Joseph made a face that spoke to holding back a long-suffering sigh. “I assure you, Mr. Gower, the Royal Police are doing all we can to apprehend the thief of your wife’s jewels and return them to you. It is unlikely to be a member of your staff, considering there have been a rash of these thefts across the upper city.”

“You better be right, Chief Thorne.” Mr. Gower’s mustache bristled. “I’m supporting the Royal Police’s efforts by sponsoring these Talented, and it disappoints me to hear that you are still struggling to do your job.”

Joseph reddened, and not for the first time, Rhosyn offered silent thanks for being a patrolling officer and not the Chief. After all, it wouldn’t be very fitting for the figurehead of the Royal Police to punch an innocent citizen in the gut for being an arrogant prick.

Thankfully, Rhosyn was distracted from the itching in her fists and the strange urge to unearth her trusty brass knuckles by a ripple of excited chattering through the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A familiar voice boomed through the garden from the direction of the stage. Rhosyn turned to find a green and gold clad figure standing on the edge of the stage, just in front of the crimson drapes.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Blakely, and it is my absolute privilege to have been invited here alongside my little troupe by His Royal Highness, King Byron, for your entertainment.”

A tittering ran through the crowd at the promise in Mr. Blakely’s voice, and Rhosyn found herself drifting forward, away from her interrupted conversation, to get a better view of the stage. No wonder her dance partner had been so complimentary of the night’s festivities. He had supplied them.

“Tonight, I have the pleasure of introducing the acrobats from Archer’s Traveling Circus. Please give a warm welcome to the Merry Men!” With an exaggerated flourish, Mr. Blakely stepped aside as the curtain split in the middle to reveal the scene on the stage.

A gasp escaped Rhosyn at the sight of platforms elevated at a dizzying height above the stage, connected by a series of tightropes and swinging trapeze bars. Six men perched on the elevated platforms, and one of them raised a hand in a confident wave.

Then, he jumped.

Rhosyn’s heart hammered in borrowed fear, but he easily caught one of the trapezes, using his momentum to swing, then letting go and performing an elegant flip before grabbing onto the next one.

One by one, each of the men jumped into the fray, weaving between each other in a dizzying choreography of gravity-defying daring. One man levered himself until he was hanging from the swaying bar by his knees and reached downwards so another performer could grab his hands as he flew through the air.

A third stepped onto the tightrope as Rhosyn looked on in awe. Before she could reason that perhaps she, too, might be able to walk on a rope—how different could it be from running across a peaked rooftop?—the acrobat dashed the thought by kicking up into a perfect handstand, still balanced on the rope, but now upside down.

At that point, Rhosyn gave up on making sense of how such a performance was possible and just enjoyed the spectacle. The acrobats flipped and flew, streaks of green swooping across the stage and launching themselves into inconceivable flips. Every time they plummeted towards the earth, Rhosyn’s breath caught, sure that this time they would fall, but they caught the next bar in the nick of time.

Rhosyn clapped her hands in delight as they soared higher and higher. One of the performers launched himself off a swinging rope, executing a neat flip before sticking the landing on the elevated platform where he had started. As he did, the vision of the hooded man, whom Fletcher and Davies had dubbed “The Hood”, swinging from the clothesline flashed through her mind.

She narrowed her eyes at the performers, but none of them were the right build. Most were long and lithe, slim legs and wiry muscles affording them the mobility to twist quickly in midair. None had the broad shoulders and powerful thighs she remembered all too distinctly on the criminal. Not to mention they were missing…something—the odd hovering in midair before gravity took hold. She shook her head, chiding herself for dramatizing the Hood’s skills just because he had managed to slip away.

As the performers landed on their platforms and took a bow, Rhosyn was so busy joining in with the thunderous applause that she almost missed a sudden flurry of movement from the side of the garden. Her hands froze mid clap as her eyes zeroed in on a member of the King’s guard pushing through the crowd to where Contessa and Nate mingled. No sooner had he leaned in to whisper something in Nate’s ear than the trio began all but sprinting towards the palace.

Rhosyn turned away from the stage and pushed through the crowd, shoulder bumping into Mr. Gower’s and making him splash brandy onto his expensive looking waistcoat. He sputtered in indignation, but Rhosyn paid him no mind, hurrying to intercept her friends. If there was trouble afoot, then that’s where Rhosyn belonged.

She reached them as they entered the palace, turning to head into the bowels where the walls were adorned with less decoration and the corridors seemed slightly narrower. Rhosyn quickly overtook Contessa, who made slower progress with her shorter legs, to jog alongside Nate.

Before she could ask what had happened, Nate and the other King’s guard turned abruptly off the main hall. They stopped suddenly in a doorway, faced with the carnage of what appeared to be an office. Papers lay strewn everywhere, drawers pulled from the desk and cast on the floor, cabinets on the walls left hanging open as if somebody dug through them unceremoniously and emptied their contents on the ground.

A sharp gasp behind Rhosyn signaled Contessa’s arrival.