Page 43 of A Thief Among Fae

Our few heirlooms are treasured like a pitiable dragon’s hoard. Dad saved up for years for Mom’s thin gold wedding band. She keeps it hidden under a loose floorboard in fear of losing it while farming and in fear of the very people I’m now standing with.

Maeve chuckles, watching me like my apprehension is better amusement than a court jester. She chucks the apple core into a rubbish bin and licks the juice off her fingers, but her gaze stays on me.

Desmond strides away, calling back, “Let’s start your evaluation.”

“Now?” I chase after him, but not without glancing back at the others as they follow, too. “Wait, you can’t be Erickson’s thieves’ guild?” Not the irritatingly handsome man who pickpocketed Evie, the one who warned me about Desmond during the festival. It can’t be him.

“Uh huh,” Maeve replies. “Rune Erickson, thief of hearts and gold alike.”

The comment makes me want to roll my eyes and gag. I can’t imagine any of Rune’s ‘theft of hearts’ ending well for the poor women involved.

Desmond huffs a laugh. “I assumed you already knew him. Isn’t that why he approached you at Norwynhald?” He opens a door, revealing a large room doubling as an armory and sparring area. Patches dapple the floor mat. The wooden targets are riddled with chips and gouges from the axes and arrows stored nearby. Finnian follows us in with Maeve behind him.

“All I knew about him was his lack of remorse for pickpocketing,” I reply. I hoped that Norwynhald would be the last I’d see of him. It figures that I’m not so lucky.

“At least you won’t be strangers,” Finnian adds, like Rune Erickson pickpocketing Evie was a courteous first introduction.

There is one fundamental piece to this puzzle that I don’t understand. If my reward is the treasure, what is Rune getting? The bedtime stories Dad used to tell me were passed on through generations, quite literally tales as old as time. And they’ve taught me that all creatures desire one of three things: Love, wealth, or power.

The most terrifying want all three.

Chapter 12

Ibounce on my toes, trying to calm my nerves. The scent of sweat lingers in the training room, and the straw dummies lined up in the corner feel like extra eyes watching me. I wish I knew what the thieves expect from me.

Maeve dusts flour off her clothes as Finnian leans against the stone wall. He takes a wad of fabric out of his pocket and stabs it with a threaded sewing needle. I remember the draper telling me that these people extort, blackmail, and fleece. Yet they’re standing around as if they don’t ruin lives.

At least one bit of good news came out of meeting the thieves’ guild. It’s not too late to reclaim my silver marks. When I see Rune Erickson again, I’ll⁠—

I freeze when I spy the lynx curled up on a pillow. Its ear twitches as it regards me with lazy, half-open eyes.

“That’s Min,” Desmond says. “Min, this is Cyn.”

Min yawns, displaying four very sharp canine teeth. I try not to think about the lynx Dad and I poached during the start of the famine. They’re beautiful animals, silent and lithe.

“So what is she?” I ask them. “A mascot? A pet?”

“An assassin,” Desmond answers.

“She’s more awake at night,” Finnian adds. “And she’s an acolyte, so don’t be surprised if you see her in a robe.”

I snort. “Of what god?”

“Of Aedros,” Maeve answers with a bright smile.

Is this a joke I’m not in on? The god of compassion’s sacred animal is a ram, not a feline. And why would a lynx tolerate a robe?

“Are you ready?” Desmond asks. My weapons are already on the racks. Nog must’ve put them here. He grabs my bow and tosses it to me.

My stomach flips. I levitate the bow midair, stopping it from hitting the floor. “This bow is a family heirloom,” I snap. “Break it, and I’ll break you.”

Desmond raises a brow, clearly amused. “The weight of that threat remains to be seen. At least you’ve trained your reflexes.”

We stare at each other. My jaw tightens before I can stop it.

He throws me my quiver. “Stand at the back wall and aim at the target.”

My mother’s doubt cuts through my mind: You never inherited your father’s aim with a bow, though I suppose that’s to be expected when you didn’t inherit his farsight magic either.