Page 21 of A Thief Among Fae

She smiles as the water laps up to her shoulders, like someone who’s returned home from a long journey. I can see it in her eyes, the joy as her magic binds with the liquid around her, two halves making a whole. Then she swivels, staring at me as she registers my words. “Most of them, I think. Why?”

“What do you know about their prince? His name, any rumors about what his Gift might be?” I do my best to sound nonchalant. If she knew I had not only met him in a market full of illicit goods but also tried to punch him, she’d panic. She’d want to hide me in our cellar. If I told her it was for her sake, she’d hug me, call me a fool, and then panic.

“The elders said that he’s an Elite and that his Gift is scary, but the fae won’t tell anyone what it is because he’s their secret weapon. Or that the fae don’t even know, and only his family does. Where he goes, death follows.” She pauses, her brows adorably scrunching as she thinks. “His name is Desmond.”

Desmond. It’s refined, but a little rugged. It suits him.

A whip of water slaps my cheek, too playful to sting. “Hey!” I splash her, and she giggles.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Evie stretches out. “It’s been so long since we had a water fight.”

“Because those ‘fights’ are terribly one-sided.”

We swim, me splashing her and her effortlessly drenching me. Our laughter echoes across the ripples until she asks, “Do you really hate it here?”

I balk, treading water as I stare at her. “You heard us last night?”

She winces. “A bit.”

Gods, I never meant for her to know. It’s worse to think she only caught snippets, that she may not have heard me explain everything. “I’m saving up to earn us a new life,” I tell her. “I don’t hate being here with you. I hate that this is our home. I hate worrying that we’ll starve every winter after paying the tithes.”

The fae prince’s—Desmond’s—offer replays through my mind.

“If we were wealthy, you wouldn’t have to stay in Nettlerock, marry a farmer, and tend to a field your whole life,” I add. “You could do anything!”

And I could do anything, too.

Her nose scrunches. “But I have to stay. Who’s going to care for our parents when they’re old?”

“They don’t have to stay here, either,” I point out, exasperated. None of them will try to imagine a life elsewhere. They don’t dare to believe that it’s possible. Yet I do. “What about Prince Ronan?” I challenge. “Imagine moving to Mythos and wearing gowns every day, mingling with aristocrats until you meet him again. You saw how he looked at you.”

She smooths her hair back with a tendril of water, frowning at me.

“You used to daydream about it. You’d make tiaras out of twigs and flowers.”

“Would he think I’m beautiful now?” Her voice cracks. “It was a foolish daydream. Please let it go, Cyn.” Her dark eyes widen, imploring me. “This is the life we were born for.”

How could she say that? Born for. I want to scoff. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter, just to end this miserable conversation. Besides, I’m not sure why I’m arguing about it when I’ve already turned down our one chance at that life.

“Mom heard a rumor that Brill may propose to me,” Evie says. “His prospects in Elmstead are low, since many of the women there have better dowries than we do.”

Panic floods me, and I grab onto her arms. “That snake of a farmhand? You’d be better off as a spinster than marrying him.”

Evie flinches as if I’ve struck her. “What other options do I have?”

“You won’t accept. Promise me you won’t accept his proposal, Evie. I’ll find another way to support us.” I’ll never forgive myself if she marries someone just for their land. Not when she’s so young, her heart so pure.

Her eyes widen. Slowly, she nods. “Alright. I trust you, Cyn.”

Then I let go.

She floats back and closes her eyes. The tranquil quiet, punctuated only by birdsong and branches cracking, is a lullaby to her. I feel exposed. It’s too quiet. I wait for the selkies to give us a good fight, but none come. And even if there were selkies, it’s the fae prince with the brown curls and cutting cleverness that my thoughts circle. His promised riches are the sun and I am the moon, fated never to reach them.

Yet, there’s no such thing as fate. At least not one that I believe in. That treasure is my only chance at saving Evie from a scoundrel’s proposal.

I told myself I’d mold reality to my making—but what am I waiting for? Another yield of vegetables to pickle until my skin reeks of vinegar? Another chicken to pluck under Dad’s watchful eyes? Another scalding lecture from Mom? Another famine that hollows us to skin and bone? Another chance to lose Evie to a man who doesn’t deserve her?

I can’t lie to myself any longer. The fae Prince of Death gave me the proposition of a lifetime. One tomb raid. Then I’ll buy my family a home with glass windows and finials and beds large enough to stretch on. I’ll find a healer to mend Evie. I’ll join the adventurers’ guild and go on quests across the continent. My family may despise me, might even believe I’ve abandoned them, but when I return, the treasure will serve as my plea for forgiveness. They will never starve again.