Page 67 of A Thief Among Fae

I try to peek around him, but he eases the door nearly shut, his face crinkling with tired amusement. “You should rest, Cynthia. Training starts at dawn.”

I gape at him. “Dawn? What about your injury?” And after everything that happened, it’ll be a miracle if I sleep for even an hour tonight.

He shrugs. “I said I wouldn’t go easy on you.”

“I underestimated how merciless my instructor would be,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

His cheek dimples with a hint of a smile. “I suppose I would call Auri ‘merciless.’”

It takes me a second too long to respond. “So, you and I aren’t training tomorrow?” Of course we aren’t, I admonish myself. He’s injured.

Then Auri stalks toward us in high dudgeon, bandages and bottles cradled in her arms. That’s likely the only reason she doesn’t shove me as she seethes. “The orc girl told me what happened,” she hisses to me. “You were careless to wander outside alone. You have no idea what the consequences of your death are!”

I flinch, and the glint of smugness in her eyes makes my stomach squeeze with anger. “We made it out alive!” I snap. “But I’m flattered that you suddenly think I’m not expendable. The tomb raid matters that much to you?”

Her sneer falters as if my reply confused her. Then she scowls again. “You’re lucky that Desmond was with you.”

“I’m lucky that she was with me,” Desmond cuts in. “It was me they were after, and having her there made it an equal fight.”

It surprises me that he defended me, and that he used the word equal. The proud smile that plays on his lips makes me think he actually meant it. Warmth unfurls low in my core before I can stop it. I should be annoyed by how much his approval affects me. Instead, I find myself wanting to hear him say it again.

He motions for Auri to enter his room. She does so with one last derisive huff.

Desmond sighs, running a hand through his tangled curls. “Goodnight, Cyn. I promise your family is safe.” His smile softens, making my toes curl. Then he closes the door behind them.

“Goodnight,” I breathe to the empty hall. The warm fuzziness in me from his smile fades as a realization crushes me: Once again, he’s chosen her company over mine.

Two days have passed since Gashil attacked us. I’ve searched the forest twice for my throwing knives and didn’t find them, so I’ve written them off as lost. The guild has other sets.

Auri takes me outside every morning for archery, ordering me around and critiquing my aim. Once, I startled a rabbit out of the bushes. I shot it, and she told me with a hint of satisfaction that my aim has improved. So now I’m supposed to learn how to harness my magic to make impossible shots.

In the afternoons, Desmond stands atop the wooden board with sandbags around his feet. He watches, unsympathetic, as I struggle to lift it.

About a half hour ago, Rune arrived and said he needed to speak with Desmond about the map heist. So I’ve been training on my own, using magic to throw my new knives at the target.

Thunk. Hit to the middle ring.

Evie’s face flashes in my mind, her eyes lifeless and dull.

Thunk. An inch closer to the center.

Blood pours from her throat.

Thunk. Miss.

I exhale a ragged breath. It doesn’t matter that it was an illusion. I watched her die because I was too weak to save her.

So I throw with my Gift again. And again, until the strain on my mind is so unbearable that I can’t even levitate my bootlace.

I trudge out of the training room, and a sweet aroma lures me to the kitchen. I expect to find Nog preparing supper, but Auri tuts as she pulls a steaming loaf of bread out of the clay oven. Ingredients are strewn about the counter: a sack of flour, trails of salt, and a jar of yeast. It looks like someone left in a hurry.

“The orc girl is busy tinkering with potions and asked me to pull it out. Want a bite?” Auri asks.

“Definitely.” My fate is sealed when she drizzles a sugar glaze atop it, leaving it clumpy in some areas and barren in others. “That smells worth dying for.”

Auri raises a perfectly curved brow. “If only you could make good on that. At least you have one of those puny mortal lifespans.”

I clench my hands as I battle with myself, torn between replying it’s a pity the world is stuck with her for her long lifespan, and asking why she has to be an abrasive ass all the time. I settle on neither and sit at the butcher block counter. Nothing good would come from provoking her, and I’m already exhausted from training. So I force my shoulders into a shrug.