Page 8 of The Hood and his Thief

“I could have caught them if not for this damn dress,” she grumbled, only for it to turn into a grimace as she looked down at the now ruined garment. With the way the skirts were torn, she was showing a near indecent amount of ankle and calf, but Joseph had the civility not to comment on that.

“You weren’t expecting to be in a chase tonight,” Joseph offered, his tone clearly attempting to be reassuring, but coming out more tired than anything.

Rhosyn’s upper lip curled in a snarl of frustration. This was the second criminal in as many days she had failed to apprehend, this one caught sneaking around the palace, no less. Some credit to the Royal Police she was.

They entered Contessa’s office to find her deep in muttered conversation with Nate. They both looked up hopefully when Rhosyn and Joseph entered, only to frown at their clear expressions of disappointment.

“Do you know what they took?” Joseph asked.

“From what I can tell, there is just one stack of papers missing,” Contessa admitted with a grim look. “I can’t seem to find any of my records on the sponsored Talented.”

A muscle in Joseph’s jaw ticked and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why would somebody want those?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it will be good,” Nate grumbled.

“Will the King’s Guard need help investigating?” Rhosyn asked. “I could—”

“You already have a case that I need you to focus on,” Joseph reminded her sharply but not unkindly. “You can just give me your description of the thief and then rejoin the festivities.”

Rhosyn sighed, looking down at the wrinkled tatters of her dress. She wasn’t likely to get the good kind of attention dressed like this, and certainly wouldn’t be putting forth a good face for the Royal Police.

It was too bad, really. She would have enjoyed seeing the rest of the Circus’s performance. She wouldn’t have minded another dance with Mr. Blakely either.

Chapter three

Rhosyn was never more grateful for pants than when she had spent the prior night traipsing around in a skirt. She bounced down the cobblestone street of the lower city feeling herself again and ready for a more successful day. The Foxes wouldn’t escape her like her last two targets.

The warm, spiced scent of roast meat filled the air and Rhosyn paused, nose turned up. Looking around, she located the source of the smell as Mrs. Landon’s cart, selling meat pies just across the street. Rhosyn bobbed among the busy traffic to reach it, hand already digging into her purse, her mouth watering at the prospect of a heartier breakfast than the sip of tea and stolen bit of toast she had grabbed from the kitchen as she ran out the door.

Mrs. Landon’s pies were a fixture of the lower city and a favorite of Rhosyn’s, although when she was younger, she could only stare at them longingly. Instead, she had pinched her pennies, saving every spare coin for secondhand clothing and toys for the young Lions in her charge.

Now, very occasionally, she would treat herself to a Cornish pasty when she passed by. Today, she had an extra incentive to part with the small amount of coins she carried with her.

Once Mrs. Landon had deposited two pies into Rhosyn’s waiting hands, she turned and strolled towards the street where Granny’s haunt was located. Given that Granny’s was a safe haven for many lower city children, she was sure to find what she was looking for there.

Warmth seeped through the paper wrappings to Rhosyn’s hands as she walked, and she resisted ripping into it to get the meal beneath. Finally, she found what she was looking for. Outside of one of the dingy shops on the street stood a familiar urchin, sweeping the front stoop with a ragged broom. She didn’t know his name, but she walked these streets often enough to recognize his round face and the too long bangs that fell into his eyes.

Rhosyn approached slowly, twisting her baton to the back of her belt so she didn’t approach the child weapon first. He looked up as she approached, but when he started to draw back into the shop, Rhosyn gave her friendliest smile—the one she had reserved for the most skittish of Lion cubs in her care.

He paused.

“What are you up to?” she asked.

“Not stealing,” the boy answered automatically.

Rhosyn chuckled easily. “I wouldn’t think so, unless you’re stealing that broom.”

That coaxed a smile from the boy.

“I’ve seen you around here before haven’t I….”

“Bruce,” he offered.

“Bruce,” Rhosyn repeated with a genuine smile.

“You might’ve,” Bruce admitted. “I help Mr. Corvey at his shop for some extra coin.” He jerked his head towards the shop behind him.

“You look like you’re working hard,” Rhosyn observed. “You must be hungry. Mrs. Landon gave me an extra meat pie. Do you want to sit with me for a minute and eat it?”