Page 160 of A Thief Among Fae

“Later.” I shove most of the treasure back into the rucksack. “This much at once will be too much of a shock for our parents.” Gods only know how Mom would react. She’d probably want to donate half of it to Elowyn’s temple or distribute it through the village.

“They might think it’s a fae trick,” Evie adds.

Right. The fae.

I hide the pack under our bed. Evie reluctantly takes off the tiara, too. Then we walk arm-in-arm to find Mom, everything so familiar and yet so strange. Neighbors call out to me that they’re glad I’m alright. I wave back. Birds chirp in the trees, hoes break ground to bury garlic, and the scent of damp soil wafts around us.

Mom is in the cellar, lunging for a hen that evades her. It darts behind a barrel before Mom can grab it.

“Mom,” Evie calls out.

“Yes? I’m a little occupied with this rascal.” The hen flaps up onto a shelf. Mom wrestles it into her arms. “You can’t be finished raking already,” she says through gritted teeth as the hen fights. “Not when you’re doing Cynthia’s share, too.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Evie says.

“We’re?” Mom finally turns. Her eyes find me.

The hen escapes in a flurry of feathers and clucks as Mom’s arms fall limp.

Mom doesn’t run, but she lifts her skirt and apron to walk faster, faster, until I’m wrapped between her arms. “You worried us sick, Cynthia. You are alright, aren’t you?” She pushes me back to arm’s length and looks me over.

“I’m fine!” I grab her weathered hands and squeeze them. “I’m not hurt, or being compelled, or blackmailed. I’m perfectly safe.”

Satisfied, Mom’s worry becomes a scoff. “Then what’s your excuse for running off?”

“Cynthia made us rich!” Evie blurts.

“Maybe not so loud,” I murmur with a smile. “Join us in the house.”

Mom tuts. “I’m relieved to see you, but you must know I’ve got work to finish. And you’ve got to apologize to your poor father.”

I’m not the first farmer’s child to disappear for a month-long romp, and I won’t be the last. Anyone who does leave always returns once they run out of coin, as though an unbreakable string ties us here.

“This will be quick,” I assure her. As she follows us out of the cellar, there’s not much time to prepare her, but I have to try. “When I was at the docks getting the bezoar for Evie, someone made a business proposition with me. A lucrative one.”

“Lucrative?” Mom narrows her eyes. “In what way, exactly?”

“Just see for yourself.” I usher her inside, closing the door after the three of us enter.

Mom’s jaw drops. She slowly approaches the kitchen table, her hands trembling as she grabs a pair of diamond earrings. “These are glass, right? They must be glass.”

I can’t suppress my smile. No goblin is cheating me for them this time.

“I’ll get some more!” Evie shouts. She sprints up the stairs before I can stop her, and returns with an armful of silk cloths, necklaces, and a cane with an emerald top wedged under her armpit. She dumps it all on the table like a pile of hides.

Mom guffaws.

“Before you ask, I didn’t steal any of it.” Not by my own standards, anyway. “It was payment for the job I completed.” Also, not technically a lie. “No one will come looking for it, and none of it’s cursed.”

Mom worries her bottom lip. She runs her thumb along the earrings. “Even if it’s not cursed, I don’t imagine Elowyn favoring us for whatever illicit means you came by all of this. What are we supposed to do with this jewelry, Cynthia? I’d look like a fool wearing it while farming.”

Gods, this is exactly what I worried about. “We’ll sell most of it. This pile alone is enough to buy a furnished house in Mythos. If we throw a few more things in, then it’s enough for a manor. With real glass windows, guest bedrooms, a dressing room. Whatever you want.”

“I wouldn’t mind a dressing room,” Evie murmurs.

Mom stills. “The barrows. That’s where you got all this. Your outburst that night should’ve been warning enough.”

My outburst? I cross my arms, already remembering exactly why I left. “If you don’t want to know the truth, don’t ask for it.”