Page 101 of A Thief Among Fae

I resist the urge to touch where his fingers had just brushed my skin. Then I crawl through the tunnel.

He didn’t miss to let me win. No, he’d never do something so trivial.

He missed because he knew I didn’t want to cross that line.

Chapter 29

My first day back to physical training goes by without incident. I’d be lying if I claimed I didn’t get shivers from Desmond’s hands guiding mine through the motions of knife throwing, or when his voice grows husky as he gives me feedback on our sparring.

The real challenge is still the bridge we’re bringing to King Olin’s tomb. I trained with it for hours today, unfolding the planks with my magic and levitating them for Desmond to walk across. We practice in the field south of the hideout, right off the path. I thought it would be easier than during the windstorm we faced on the heist. Yet this bridge is three times as long, and my magic loses its grip on the far end too often for comfort.

The day is over now, and my body is sore everywhere as I retreat into my bedroom after supper. I change into the nightgown Nog made for me. When I tried to express how much I liked it, she shushed me and threatened to leave spiders under my mattress.

Facing the mirror, I undo my braid and run a comb through my crimped hair. Then I pause. For a moment, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. My cheeks are full. The hollows of my neck have vanished. Instead of a malnourished pallor, I glow with health.

It startles me how different I look. At home, we never ate until we were full. Our memories of the famine made us cautious and conservative. But here? The food is endless. Succulent venison, fresh berries, roasted vegetables with a crunch from herbs. Before arriving at the guild, I had never eaten enough to feel sluggish from a warm meal, too full to lift a hand.

The Avedoran laws my family is bound by don’t apply here. Rune and his thieves poach right under the queen’s nose. No tithe. No fear. Not even the risk of execution keeps the guild from doing what they want—only their self-imposed rules command them. Rune walks like a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s maddening. It’s. . . tempting.

Then there’s the tailored clothes. Warm baths. A bed of my own that hugs me every night. Each day brings a new challenge that excites me, unlike the endless farming that left me sweating, sore, and swarmed by flies.

Maybe it won’t matter if I have to turn the other way when the guild steals if it means I can stay here.

Deep down, I know that’s not who I am. I can’t stomach stealing from the living. That must be why I haven’t accepted Rune’s offer yet, even though this could be the life I’ve always wanted. Not just for me—for them. For Evie. For my parents. But a sharp thought pierces me.

If I barely recognize myself, how will they?

I abandoned them. I left the fieldwork, livestock, and diminishing cellar shelves to them while I play darts without a care and sink into a hot spring bath instead of a tepid basin. What would they say if they saw me now?

You’re selfish, Cynthia.

Or worse, they’d reject me altogether.

In the mirror, I search for the woman I was. Someone who would sacrifice her dream of seeing the world for her family, no matter how miserable it would make her. The woman who scrounged for treasure that would never be enough to set her free.

She’s in there somewhere. But the longer I stay, the harder she is to find.

I straighten as the door opens. Min walks in, dripping wet with a smudge of dark blood across her brow. “You missed a spot,” I tell her. I’m glad she’s arrived. I don’t want to be stuck in my thoughts any longer.

Min wipes it off with the hem of her black cloak and blinks. “My apologies. I thought I washed sufficiently before returning.” She unhooks her cloak, revealing a vest made of scales. As she takes the vest off, it glimmers with an iridescent sheen.

I pause, staring at it. “Is that dragon scale armor?”

She nods as she lays it on her bed. “The scales are from dragon hatchlings. It is very difficult to acquire and expensive. Finnian was disgruntled when he discovered that I fulfilled contracts unarmored.” Then she meticulously wipes her daggers clean with a cloth from her pocket.

“He bought the vest for you?” I gape, incredulous. I’ve noticed his lingering looks at her, but I had no idea that he⁠—

A shout and a loud crash startle me. We both turn to face the door.

“I do not think all is well,” Min says, rearming herself with the daggers.

“No shit,” I mutter, then grab the throwing knives Desmond gifted me. Heavy footsteps pound down the hall. Min peeks out the door and flings a dagger. Someone swears.

She ducks into our room as a serrated blade soars where she’d been a mere second before. “The hideout has been infiltrated by assassins. That one appears to be fomorian.”

Dread curdles my stomach. “Gashil is back?”

Min doesn’t respond; she’s already shifting. Her morphing form grows until her paws are as large as dinner plates, scraping the floor. She snarls, her head now larger than mine. Elongated incisors protrude past her jaw, and her hackles rise. She’s no lynx.