Page 19 of A Thief Among Fae

I shiver, and it’s not just the cool night air on my bare skin.

“I know what you want in exchange,” he continues. “Every coin, jewel, or artifact we find in that tomb, you can keep. All of the treasure is yours except for the one item I’m after.”

There has to be a catch. I narrow my eyes. “What if there’s no treasure?”

“There will be. And if there isn’t, I’ll compensate you.” He lowers my dagger blade with a single finger and then bows his head as if supplicating to me. “Please, Cynthia.”

My name.

My heartbeat quickens. He must’ve eavesdropped on my family to know it, and that’s how he knew my weaknesses. Our poverty, my impulsiveness, my love for my sister. I feel exposed, like he’s skinned me and taken a look inside.

I regain control of my dagger and realign it underneath his chin. “Whose tomb is it?”

He’s silent for several seconds, no doubt reveling in my anticipation. “Olin, the fourth king of Avedor. Up for the challenge?”

Dear gods, a king? There has to be enough treasure in there to feed not just my family but the entire village! And the life I could give Evie. . . It would be beyond what I’ve ever hoped for. A wardrobe full of silk and velvet gowns. Rouge for her cheeks, tinted balm for her full lips. She could marry anyone, even the scion of a noble. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t send a single mark home from the adventurers’ guild. My family would never have to work again.

I don’t know if I can ever make amends for Evie’s scar, but she could have bustiers adorned with lace to cover it. No, I’m thinking too small. I could find a healer better than Slagbend’s priest, one who could mend it for good.

Yet, I hesitate. Who knows how long I’d be gone, burdening my parents with not only Evie’s chores while she recovers, but my own too? I might not even make it back home. A king’s tomb would be guarded by an army of draugr, maybe even wights like the one I fought today. I could die.

But I think of all the tombs I’ve plundered and survived. If anything, tomb raiding has enabled me to live.

Even if it was almost the death of my sister.

A breeze billows his tunic, the unlaced grommets revealing more of his taut chest. In the glowing light of the swollen moon, I can tell he’s brawny despite his lean frame, not one for idle work like I imagined princes would be.

He raises a dark brow. “Too stunned to speak or too busy staring?”

I break my gaze, clearing my throat as a debate whirls through my mind. “Too smart to agree without thinking it over.” The excitement is fire in my veins and tightness in my lungs. And it’s not just about the treasure, but the challenge, the thrill of it. Could I break into Olin’s tomb and survive? Would I risk death to find out?

Would I leave everything I’ve known for a chance at a life even better than the one I’ve always dreamt of?

“Your answer?” he asks.

My heart pounds. Yes. Yes.

I wince, then sigh. Maybe Mom and Dad are right. I’m not strong enough to survive a king’s tomb. Not when a single draugr wight almost cost Evie and me our lives. My magic isn’t a weapon or even a paltry shield. It’s a parlor trick. A disappointment. Besides, what kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t pick up the slack while Evie heals?

“I can’t,” I answer bitterly.

He stiffens like those two little words are more of a threat to him than my blade. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in Mythos until the day after tomorrow. You can find me at the Hawthorn Inn.”

Then he leaves me, heading down the path that leads out of Nettlerock toward Mythos.

And I’m left wondering if I’ve just passed up the opportunity I’ve waited my whole life for.

Chapter 6

Isigh in the unforgiving morning sun. This sweltering weather isn’t normal for early autumn, and I’m not fortunate enough to have even a few sparse clouds to shield me. At least Evie can sit in the shade of an oak a few paces away. She’s supposed to be inside sleeping, but she said she was bored and insisted on watching me do my chores. Dad is tending the chickens, and Mom is irrigating a field with her water-wielding Gift. Both are out of sight from us.

My forearms ache as I rake reeking compost over the garlic bulbs. I force myself to breathe in through my mouth and not my nose. A tomato that’s too bug-eaten to salvage splits open and squirts murky, browned juice onto my legs.

The stench reminds me of the draugr. It’s infuriating that the waterlogged barrow was the only one I’ve discovered this month. That fae prince was right; I might have to hike for hours away from Nettlerock to find an unraided barrow. And with all my duties at home, I don’t know if I’ll have time. Yet that’s the only way I’ll save up enough marks to find Evie a better healer. Next time I can sneak away, I’ll search farther south.

“This is insufferable,” I mutter, swatting at flies. I can’t hear myself think over their incessant buzzing.

Evie looks up from the sock she’s darning and makes a face. It stretches the black vein on her neck. “I still prefer it over drowning rats.”