Page 55 of A Thief Among Fae

“Your clothes, human.”

I start, water invading my nostrils. Nog places my spare outfit with meticulous care on my folded towel. She shoots me a glare like she doesn’t expect me to care.

My expression softens. “I appreciate it.”

Nog scowls at me like I’m still despicable, and then scurries out.

I tip my head back, letting the water cradle me as I stare up at the thin slice of stars. I don’t know what waits for me in that tomb—fortune, failure, or something worse—but for the first time, I feel like I’m finally swimming toward the life I want, not just drifting.

Chapter 16

“Anything to add?” Desmond asks me as we lean over a long list of supplies. We’ve set up a table in the training room, and the list is so long that it unfurls off the edge.

“Fire starters,” I suggest. “Draugr are only vulnerable to two things: decapitation and fire.”

Desmond dips his quill into the ink pot, then adds it in his enviable cursive. “Do we need to bring more rope?” he asks me.

“No. That length should be plenty.” I’m surprised that he wanted my opinion on the tomb raid’s packing list. I thought he’d be the type of boss to not care what his underlings think.

I suppose I was wrong.

Four days have passed since I arrived at the guild. It’s been a blur of vigorous training. Every muscle in my body aches. My palms are blistered from gripping bows and sword hilts. Bruises bloom on my body from sparring faster than I can count them. By the time I collapse into bed each night, I can barely lift my arms.

Beneath the exhaustion, a dangerous spark of pride keeps flickering to life. I’m stronger than I was four days ago. Faster. Sharper. If I survive the tomb raid, I’ll finally be worthy of the adventurers’ guild.

Archery with Auri, however, is far from enjoyable. She’s relentlessly scathing with her critiques, barks that my aim is wrong before I even take the shot, and never misses an opportunity to remind me how weak I am. Thank the gods that we’re done for the day.

I wish I could say that I’m progressing enough in the Gift-strengthening sessions. Desmond wants me to lift and suspend two hundred pounds for five full minutes by the end of the week. Not a tremor. Not a slip.

This afternoon, I couldn’t even keep the board lifted for a full minute. Every attempt feels like prying my skull open.

Desmond has to be dismayed at my failure, no matter how quiet he is about it. He should join the long line of people who think I’m weak. My parents. The miller’s wife, who offered them her condolences that my magic wouldn’t be useful in the fields. When Evie manifested, it was a cause for celebration. Then there were the village patrolmen who laughed about my swordwork when they thought I was out of earshot. She should be learning faster than this, they said. That boy, Sebastian, he’s a natural.

Maybe that’s why I raided tombs alone. I could prove to myself that I’m strong each time I lit a draugr aflame or severed its neck. I could tell myself I’m clever with every trap I dodged and riddle I deciphered.

Never once did I tell Sebastian my secret, nor Evie until I needed her help. It was my release, my only freedom. I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me or prove that they could do it better with stronger or more useful Gifts.

I read through the list again and sigh. The tension I feel is more suffocating than a noose. I glance at Desmond, biting my lip as I debate whether I should come out and say it. It could feel like ripping a bandage off, painful in the moment, but a welcome relief afterward.

“Yes?” Desmond asks, arching a brow.

Here goes nothing. I swallow. “I know you’re disappointed. I just wish you’d say it.”

Desmond crosses his arms, watching me. “If I did, would that serve to motivate you?”

“I’d feel like you’re being honest with me.”

“What have I lied about?” he asks, but it’s monotone. Emotionless. “You know that I can’t.”

I’m close enough to tap him on the shoulder, push him backward, or slap him in an attempt to startle him. Anything would be better than his stolid mask. “Even if you don’t lie, you hide things from me. I’m the only person here in the dark about that relic you want, aren’t I? And your Gift! Why won’t you tell me? Would the world end? Would we all explode?”

His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t say a damn thing.

So this is how it’s going to be. I’m trusted to be the second pair of eyes on a packing list, but not with a modicum of information. My fisted hands shake, frustration quivering my lips. “I’m busting my ass off in training. I’ve proven that I’m committed. If you try to convince me that I don’t deserve to know, then I’ll know why you won’t tell me.”

It would be wiser if I backed off. I know I shouldn’t want to piss him off. But gods, if I can’t help it. I’m losing my mind with every truth he refuses to give me.

Finally, he glares at me. “Let’s suppose that I refuse to answer. Why do you think I won’t tell you?” His eyes burn with an intense, searing heat. Twin golden flames flare, consuming the viridescent hazel like a forest set ablaze. The otherworldly beauty of it is undeniably fae.