Page 180 of A Thief Among Fae

Brandur pushes the door open, and the ballroom’s gleaming light spills into the hall.

Chapter 53

Aserving woman with an empty tray startles on the other side of the hallway’s door.

“Pardon us,” Brandur says. “We were looking for a discreet place for our. . . what do you humans call it?”

“An orgy,” Finnian supplies. He holds both arms behind his back. “We’ve finished now. All of us except for her, actually.” He winks at Auri. “Better luck next time.”

Auri bares her teeth at him.

The woman fights a disgusted scoff, then bows her head and mumbles an apology. She moves aside, gesturing for us to file out into the ballroom.

“You heard what Rune said,” Desmond tells us. “Spread out. Act like you’re enjoying the party, but don’t speak to anyone unless you’re confronted first. Ronan will have his first dance at half past eleven. We’ll join the first throng of departing guests after.”

Brandur searches the upper balcony. “I do not see Maeve. She was supposed to wait up there with any intel gleaned from inside the ball.”

“She may have gotten stopped for a chat,” Finnian muses. “Or visited the finger foods over there.” His stomach growls as he nods at the buffet table. “That’ll be my first stop. All we were fed in the cells was leftover livestock slop.”

I wilt with regret. If only we could’ve rescued them sooner. If only the arrest hadn’t happened.

“We need to be out of Mythos by midnight,” Desmond orders.

Everyone nods. We peel off into the crowd in our matching pairs. Desmond’s hand rests at the small of my back, mirroring the other couples. Even with the fabric of my dress between us, the pressure sends sparks along my skin.

If the other guests have noticed the heavy presence of guards, they certainly aren’t alarmed. To us, this room is akin to a tomb full of traps. The fae’s escape won’t go unnoticed for long, and that thought isn’t doing my nerves any favors.

We walk the perimeter of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hang from the arched, painted ceiling. The parquet floor has been polished to an impeccable shine, and thick stone columns intersperse the room. Gold gilds everything from the molding along the walls to the goblets being passed around. The ostentatious display of wealth sickens me. This is what my family’s tithes have paid for?

Our reflections in the towering windows follow us like phantoms. I can’t help but stare at them, surprised to see myself belonging with the noblewomen I’ve always resented. A resplendent ball gown, dainty shoes, perfectly curled locks. . .

When my clothes first transformed, I felt gorgeous looking down at my dress. Seeing my masked face attached to it, all I can think about is that this isn’t me. I don’t belong here. The guests of this ball are the sort who hire thieves and adventurers to dirty their hands for them. Thieves and adventurers like me.

It doesn’t escape me that Desmond should be used to balls, but if his lack of enthusiasm for the party is any indication, he wishes we could leave now. He watches the crowd with a grim frown, as if we’re surrounded by hungry wolves instead of haughty aristocrats.

“Recognize anyone?” he asks me.

“Only the royal family on the balcony,” I admit. “We don’t see nobles in Nettlerock.”

At the mention of the Meirdens, Desmond’s hand tenses against me. I look up at him. With the metal mask, no one else would be able to tell that he’s on edge.

“This is the easiest part of the plan,” I murmur. “As long as no one notices how comically big your ears are.”

His quiet laugh is followed by a smile. “That’s not why I’m uneasy.”

“Is this your first ball?” I jest. “Surely my prince has suffered through scores of them.”

He raises a brow, the smirk growing. “Your prince?”

Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. “We match. That’s all.”

His steps slow. “That’s a shame,” he says as we pass the last window. “I’ve heard that the beautiful maidens whisked away by fae princes are pampered beyond mortal imaginings.”

“Pampered?” There are too many implications for the word, some making my face heat.

“She would find herself draped in jewels, clothed in gowns of the finest spider silk, and her body worshipped.” His fingers slide lower, and I gasp.

The thought of his lips on my skin, his deft hands exploring my thighs, across my breasts. . .