Page 25 of A Thief Among Fae

I flick my thumb, and the next page turns itself. Then the next.

He glances up at me, his brows furrowed and a small frown twisting his lips.

“If you want me to stay interested, you’ll put the book away,” I tell him.

Desmond sighs and shuts it like it’s the most burdensome thing he’s had to do in his life. “Fine. I’m listening.”

Lacing my hands together on the tabletop, I begin. “I have some demands, first.”

He nods at me to continue.

“I want insurance in the event of my death. If I die in this barrow, but you survive, I want my share sent to my family. Enough to get them by for a few years,” I tell him.

Discussing even the possibility of my death makes me nauseous. I’ve always felt like if I tell myself nothing will kill me, then nothing will. Yet, my greatest duty tugs with doubt on the back of my mind: Evie. Because of her, I have to be cautious. Because of her, I need a contingency plan.

“Deal,” he says, opening the book again.

That’s it? No arguments about the survival of the fittest? I raise a brow at him, and then close his book with my magic. You think a man would learn. “I’m serious.”

He sighs. “I am too. Anything else?”

“Where is this tomb, anyway?”

“Southeast of Mordrak,” he answers. “You’re down to three. Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t count the question about my drinking habits.”

I ignore his count, instead settling into my chair as a yawn escapes me. “That seems like a strange place for a human king’s tomb.” It’s goblin territory, and the steppes and rifts there lack settlements.

His fingers impatiently drum on the book as he frowns. “Yes, almost like they didn’t want anyone to find it,” he intones with sarcasm.

I scoff. “Someone’s ill-tempered.”

He glares at me, confirming my jab. “As soon as you’re safe in your room, I’m retiring to mine. Then I can read in peace. So ask your remaining questions. Let’s get it over with.”

Our conversation is growing harder to focus on as fatigue clouds my head. “There’s no available rooms. So until you go to bed, I guess you’re stuck with me.” I unshoulder my weapons, preparing for a long and miserable night.

Desmond stills. He watches me stretch my aching shoulders. Our eyes meet before he fixates on the dark circles underneath mine. Maybe he’s evaluating my chance of survival if I’m left alone in the tavern. I tossed and turned in bed last night, even before Desmond threw rocks at our house. Beula and the priest may have saved Evie’s life, but my guilt made it impossible to relax. I won’t sleep any better tonight when I’m worrying about pickpockets.

The fae prince’s stare is intense, calculating. I feel like a bug pinned to cork, unable to escape his judgment. It reminds me too much of how my parents look at me during dry spells in the summer. Those glances are thinly concealed disappointment, mourning the help they could’ve had if I was born with water-wielding magic instead of untethering. The memories twist my insides until I can’t help but glance away to escape Desmond’s gaze.

“What about other inns?” he asks.

“The innkeeper said the city is full because of Norwynhald. We both know if I fall asleep in here, I’ll be markless come morning. Unless you want to volunteer for the first watch.”

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “I’d rather not.” But that’s not the same as saying he won’t.

I cling to that hope, pressing him. “You can’t leave me here. Surely your suite has a chaise I can sleep on.”

“What makes you think I rented a suite?”

I gesture at his rings, then his cloak, and last at the hint of a golden cuff earring where his hood has slipped back a bit. “And you’re a you-know-what,” I hiss, glancing at the White Wolf to make sure she isn’t eavesdropping on us.

Desmond smirks, enjoying my anxious squirming. “I suppose we could share mine. For a price.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or slap him for being so brazen. “You can’t honestly expect me to have sex with you!”

“My generosity was misplaced.” He huffs a laugh. “You could’ve at least waited to hear my price.”

I sigh. “Then humor me.”