Page 168 of A Thief Among Fae

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice unintentionally low.

Asking was a mistake. His wicked grin makes me sure of it. “What I want is simple, Cynthia.”

A shiver crawls down my spine. Somehow, his knowing my full name makes me feel vulnerable. Naked.

“I want Olin’s crown, because how could I ever turn that down? Yet that alone won’t buy my services. “ He leans toward me, his face hovering beside my ear. “One crown, one favor.”

My eyes narrow, but I force myself to stay in place. I refuse to let him think he’s affecting me. “A favor is too broad.”

Rune chuckles. “Time is ticking for those three fae. Are you sure you have enough of it to barter with me?”

Damn it. “Fine. But nothing sexual.”

He mocks a gasp right into my ear. “I’m rather offended. I thought my reputation as a gentleman preceded me.”

“You thought wrong.” I finally pull away, digging my nails into my tunic to stop the frown that wants to force its way onto my face. “I’ll give you the crown now, as an advance payment. But you only get the favor if all three of them escape. Alive.”

“Then it’s a deal.” He winks at me as he moves to a basket holding large, tightly rolled sheets of paper. He riffles through them, then he chooses one and lays it out on the desk. “Here we are. One map of Drottheim Keep.”

“Great.” I sigh in relief. “Let’s get started.”

“No time like the present,” he agrees, like we’re both in on a joke. Then he meets my gaze, his teal eyes demanding that I hold it. “And believe me, Cynthia. I’ll get that favor.”

I scoff. “You seem rather sure of yourself. At least that bodes well for our odds of survival.”

“What can I say?” Rune’s conniving smirk hints at the danger, the ruthlessness lurking underneath his charm. “I don’t know how to fail.”

Brandur, Maeve, Min, Rune, and I flank the kitchen table. It’s crowded. Our elbows keep knocking, and I’ve stepped on Maeve’s toes more than once, but we fit. And we’re here together, as good a team as I could’ve hoped for.

Rune taps a date scrawled at the top of the map. “Chances are, the layout of Drottheim Keep hasn’t changed since I stole this map. Although if they’ve employed earth-wielders to switch things up, navigating could be a challenge.”

Brandur crosses his arms over his muscular chest. “Even so, the cells would still be at the bottom level.”

“Right.” Rune taps the diagram in the bottom corner of the map, where rows of cells branch off of a circular room. A knot forms in my throat at its small label. Interrogation chamber. “This here is our destination. And please be mindful of crumbs on the map.”

Maeve looks up from her bowl of roasted hazelnuts. “Right. Sorry. I get hungry when I’m nervous. Anyway, there’s only one staircase to the prison cells. If we have to fight our way down, the guards can fill it up again before we have a chance to get out.”

“Then we fight our way through twice,” Brandur answers, like that’s an easy feat. Leave it to an orc to be confident in the face of prolonged combat.

Rune caresses his jaw as he thinks. “We won’t need to fight our way down if they believe we belong there. The real issue is what happens once they’ve realized their three most valuable prisoners have vanished.”

Brandur leans over the map, his red ponytail sliding down his shoulder. “So when are we performing this operation?”

“There’s only one option. Ronan’s birthday ball is tomorrow night.” I point to the large, guarded gate that blocks civilian access to Drottheim Keep. “During the ball, this gate will be open, and people will pour in and out all night. The ballroom is here, on the second level of the keep.” I move my finger to the large open room above the ground floor. “The grand staircase outside leads directly to it.”

“Where we need to go is below it, as we’ve previously discussed,” Rune adds. “The ground floor houses the war room, offices of high-ranking guards, etcetera. And on this well-patrolled level is the staircase that leads to the bowels of the keep.” He taps it.

Min asks, “Why is the ball held in Drottheim Keep instead of the Blue Palace?”

That’s a good question. The Blue Palace is where the Meirden family lives, higher up on the mountain that overlooks Mythos.

“Drottheim Keep sits on the north end of Mythos, so closer to the luxury inns and wherever else guests may be staying,” Rune answers. “The gate makes it easy to vet who goes in and out. Military personnel are literally right beneath the ballroom, should anything happen.”

Brandur harrumphs. “Like an assassination.”

An assassination. Oh, gods. That’s exactly it. “The whole royal family will be there, including Queen Orla,” I mutter. That’s why Eldon told Desmond that they were running low on time, and why Desmond was adamant that we raid Olin’s tomb by the full moon.

“They wouldn’t cancel the ball for some escaped prisoners, right?” Maeve asks, ignorant of the turmoil inside my head. “Even if they are fae.”