Page 158 of A Thief Among Fae

It’s larger than his hands and appears solid. I hesitate, knowing any gift he gives me will be his last. “You saved mine afterward.” Maybe if I refuse, he’ll have to live, just to give it to me later.

He inclines his head. “Take it. Please.”

Something tells me he won’t let me walk away without it. Nodding, I grab the bundle from him, our hands brushing. A jolt passes through me from his touch, and my stomach tightens. As I place it into my pack, his tensed shoulders release with relief.

Min steps out of the carriage to shake my hand. I pull her into a hug instead. She stands as stone at first, and then pats my back. “Be safe, Cyn.”

“You too,” I murmur.

Auri clears her throat. She adjusts her hooded cloak to ensure it’s covering her ears. “Cyn, keep training in archery. I hope to cross paths with you again and see how much you’ve improved.”

“You know, all this time I thought your name was Sin. S-I-N,” Finnian blurts. “Thought it was a bit unconventional, but I didn’t think to ask.”

Despite the tightness in my chest, I smile. “That would’ve been a bold name, indeed.”

I turn to leave because I don’t know how to say goodbye. As I join the line before the gates, Desmond calls out, “May Danu be with you, Cynthia.”

My breath catches. My hands tremble. But I lack the courage to look back as I hear his footsteps recede to the carriage. The clop of hooves and the squeak of carriage wheels fade, and an unexpected tear rolls down my cheek.

Desmond’s voice is a phantom song through my soul, one I wish I could hear even one last time.

Chapter 46

Anxiety ricochets in my stomach as the carriage driver drops me off outside Nettlerock. I have no idea how my reunion with my family will go. Will they forgive me for leaving? Will they take one look and sense the guilt thrashing inside of me like an insatiable beast?

Maybe I won’t have to feel guilty. Desmond might get away. Eldon might be a better ruler than Orla. Probably not, but one can hope.

As I pass the first cluster of thatched houses, a part of me screams to turn around. I’m a bug sinking into a web. Once I’m entangled, I’ll never escape again.

Upon seeing Evie crouched in the field, sweat upon her beautiful brow and lips pursed in concentration, the dread dissipates. A smile spreads across my face, even with the flies buzzing and the stench of manure, because it’s her. It feels like I haven’t seen my sister in a lifetime.

She pauses at the sound of my footfall. She’s alone; Mom must be busy salting meat in the cellar, and Dad must be on his monthly patrol shift.

Evie turns around. Her spade drops, and her face lights up like fireflies over a meadow. “Cynthia!” Her arms fly wide as she sprints to me. I laugh, dropping my pack to take her sweaty body into a hug. She nuzzles into my shoulder. “You came back.” And then she bursts into tears.

“Of course I came back.” I stroke the back of her head. It’s not the midday sun warming me—it’s her. My sister is my sunshine. Tears run down my cheeks as I spin her.

She laughs. “Put me down! I’m still healing from the stitches.”

I set her down. “Are you alright?”

She curls water from a bucket, sloshing it across her hands to clean them. “I’m fine, other than my sister leaving me with all her chores!” The water whips my shoulder.

“Hey!” I laugh despite it drenching my sleeve. “I promise I’ve more than made up for it. Would you like a tiara, Princess Evangeline?”

She puts her hand on her hip. “A tiara? We’re too old for flower crowns.”

“Try sapphires.” I wink as I pull out the gleaming pink tiara from my rucksack.

Evie’s lips part in awe. “That’s. . . That can’t be real!”

I place it atop her mussed hair and curtsey. “You’re beautiful as always, my lady.”

First, she touches it, as if she has to convince herself it’s not an illusion. Then her gaze darts to my rucksack. I reach in, pulling out the silk cloths, then an emerald cabochon that sparkles like dappled leaves in sunlight. “Where did you get all that?” she squeaks.

“It’s better if you don’t know. Now help me take it inside before the whole village sees.” Everyone would beg for a share, but I’m determined to keep it all for my family. They deserve every last coin.

We hurry into the house and dump the bag out on the kitchen table. Sheathed daggers clink against gemstones as they scatter into a pile that would make a dragon envious. An ovular rock the size of my fist shimmers purple-green and rolls with a wobble until it stops against an embroidered napkin. “What is that?” Evie asks me.