Page 14 of A Thief Among Fae

“I can’t lie,” he says with a wry smile. I’d be a fool to believe him.

We open our hands in unison. I lift both objects with my Gift and swap them midair. The fae’s eyes widen for a brief second.

I don’t know what to say. Definitely not thank you, since that’s said to be against fae etiquette. An expression of gratitude is the same as offering debt to them.

Before I think of anything, he turns and weaves into the crowd.

When I reach the hag’s stall, I present the ring pinched between my fingers.

“Curious.” She drags the tip of her index nail down her table, the noise like a blade scraping stone. My spine stiffens. “But it is not enough. I require that ring, the sapphire, and the bracelet in your bag in exchange for the bezoar you seek.”

We stare each other down. I have a feeling I’m being fleeced. How did she know about the lapis cabochon bracelet? I needed the marks it’s worth for Evie’s dowry.

She won’t need a dowry if she’s dead, I remind myself.

“Deal,” I agree. “Swear to Elowyn that the bezoar is authentic.”

The hag laughs, a high-pitched cackling. “I don’t worship your gods, child.”

My grip on the ring tightens. “Then swear on your own. Danu, perhaps?”

Her bulging eyes narrow so quickly that I almost miss it. Then she blinks, and the animosity vanishes. “I swear it.”

“Hand me the bezoar, and it’s yours.”

She rummages through a chest. The yellowed stone she sets on the table is half the width of my palm. I set the ring, bracelet, and sapphire beside it and cover them with my hands.

When she lets go of the bezoar, I snatch it, leaving my items exposed. She grabs them with the same swiftness and slides the ring onto her gnarled finger. “A pretty thing. Powerful, too.” Yet her expression is the same apathetic stare. Are all unseelies this bizarre?

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The bezoar stays squeezed in my hand as I hurry toward the warehouse entrance, as if it’s a worry stone that can siphon my fear away. All I can do is pray that I’m not too late.

Chapter 4

When I reach the Nettlerock stable, the fire baskets along the paths are already lit. Bright constellations wink above me. I slide off the mare and wince as my sore shoulder bumps against the stall. The prince’s cloak may have staunched the bleeding, but it’s done nothing for the pain.

I leave a few coins on the railing and hurry to Beula’s. I’ve been gone far too long.

My magic flings Beula’s door open, and I sprint inside. Mom flinches. Tears glisten on her cheeks. She unclasps her hands, having been in the middle of a prayer. “Where were you?” she demands. “Beula said you took off without a⁠—”

I ignore her and enter the next room. Beula wipes away the sweat on Evie’s sallow face with a damp cloth. Black, spidery veins crawl beneath her skin. They wrap across her chest and around her throat. My sister is on the verge of death.

“Necrosis,” Beula says. “That venom came from a beast I’m not familiar with. I don’t have antivenom.”

A cry claws up my throat, but I force it down and hand her the bezoar.

“Oh, merciful Elowyn!” she exclaims. She crushes it into a powder, then sweeps half of it into a beaker of red liquid. I follow her to the hearth, where she slides the beaker onto a metal grate over the fire. The flames recoil, and the liquid simmers. Her Gift is controlling fire.

Satisfied, she removes the beaker, and Mom holds her breath as she follows us to Evie.

Beula stirs the liquid to cool it. My chest tightens as she tilts Evie’s chin and pours it down her throat.

“Where did you get it, Cynthia?” Beula asks.

“The docks. When will it work?”

“Soon,” she promises. “But there is nothing I can do for the necrosis she’s already suffered. Your father should be on his way back from Slagbend with their Aedrosian priest. He’s a healer.”

I hover my hand over Evie’s mouth. The weak puffs of breath are the only reassurance that she’s not a corpse. How could I have done this to her? What would I have done if I were too late? Bile stings the back of my throat, and I slam my eyes shut as I coax the nausea away. I wasn’t too late, and that’s what matters.