Page 172 of A Thief Among Fae

I dump my cloak and hat into the carriage and then pat Enbarr’s flank. “You were great back there. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She snorts, and if horses can roll their eyes, I swear she’s doing it. Sweat beads on the back of my neck as she trots alone to the stable. It’ll raise some brows that she doesn’t have a driver with her, but she can handle herself.

We reach the keep’s stone wall just as the enchanted shadow clears. The coachman on the carriage behind ours yawns and scratches her thigh. She didn’t notice a thing.

Rune leads, waving us ahead. My heart pounds as he motions for us to stop, a searchlight sweeping right ahead of him. It swings away, and we progress, bit by bit, back toward the keep.

My foot catches on a loose cobblestone. I trip over it, but quickly right myself. Then I turn to point it out for Brandur. He raises a questioning brow at my gesture, but he doesn’t stop walking, and oh gods⁠—

Brandur sucks in a breath as he trips. A mage light swings toward him. He’s caught himself on his palms, but there’s not enough time. Rune tenses, grabbing the pommel of his sword. There’s nothing he can do.

But there’s something I can do.

I untether the bowl that holds the gigantic mage light and jerk it the other way. The beam careens as Brandur springs up to his feet.

The silhouettes of the guards atop the wall spin toward each other in puzzlement, but when they whip the light back to that loose stone, we’re already gone.

Blood pounds in my ears as we turn the keep’s corner. The door is within sight now, and so is the guard keeping watch. Rune nods at me, the signal to cause a distraction.

From the pouch, I grab another bottle. This one glows with a tempest of smoke and sparks. I levitate the bottle to the gate, dodging the mage lights and searching guards. When it’s far enough from us, I slam it down, shattering it.

Here comes the chaos.

Crackling sparks fly amidst the plumes of gray smoke. Guards shout commands. Guests run screaming up the stairs to the safety of the ballroom. A horse panics, kicking a guard square in his chest. “It’s just a firework!” someone calls out, but the damage is already done. Everyone’s eyes are on the dying burst of sparks, and not on us as we run to the door.

I count every thud of my feet on stone. Four. Five. Six.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Almost there.

Rune incapacitates the guard at the door, striking his sword hilt against the man’s forehead. Then Rune reaches for the handle, but the door flies open. Another guard steps out. I skid to a halt and throw my body flush with the wall, but it’s too late. The human’s eyes widen as he takes Rune in, then widen even more upon seeing Brandur and me. Min’s managed to scurry into hiding, but the rest of us. . .

We’re out of luck.

“Wait!” the guard cries out as I unsheathe the knife against my bodice. I reach back to throw⁠—

Brandur seizes my arm. His nails dig into my skin as I struggle against his grip. “What the hell?” I hiss.

“Kieran, old friend!” Rune claps the guard’s shoulder. “The chainmail and red sash look good on you! Have you done what I asked?”

The guard holds the door open wider. “Get in. Quick!”

No time to think. I hurry through the doorway, wincing as the sudden light of the hallway blinds me. Brandur follows on my heels, Min bounding after him.

The guard shuts the door and smiles at Rune. “Really? I wasn’t sure the color went with my hair.”

Rune’s lips pull sideways in a pained frown. “No, it honestly doesn’t. Looked a bit more flattering out in the darkness, Kieran.”

“Oh.” Kieran deflates. He’s younger than Evie, with dark skin, wide brown eyes, and black hair in the standard short-cut guard style. “To be fair, this isn’t your best look either, boss.”

Brandur chuckles as Rune sucks in a tight breath. “Even I know never to say that to him,” Brandur says.

Kieran winces. “What you asked for is in the cloak closet. Third door on the left. I’d better go back out there before someone thinks I’m off my post.”

“And that’s how you take an infiltration seriously,” Rune says with a smirk. “And to think a month ago you were begging in your letters to come back to the guild.”

He blushes. “I’ve made some friends—err, connections here. And there’s this gorgeous man who works in the kitchens who I think might like⁠—”