Page 75 of A Thief Among Fae

Finnian perches on a chair at the side table, my pack emptied out on it. He rolls coins between his gloved fingers and sheepishly grins at me. “When I heard Dez mention your tomb raiding, I had to have a look.”

“Get out.” I point at the door.

He slides the coins onto the table, then spins one with a flick of his fingers. “Are you upset about yesterday?”

“Upset? No.” I slam my palm over the coin. “I’m livid. And you have the nerve to barge into my room, then go through⁠—”

“Your stuff,” he cuts in. “Yes, I know that’s not polite. But this is the only place where we can talk alone, isn’t it? And as for your things, can you blame a fae for being curious?” He picks up a cut topaz. It was dull before, still smeared with dirt from the tomb I found it in. Finnian must’ve cleaned it because now it gleams, even in the dim light of the candle chandelier.

“Good clarity,” he appraises. “The cut is a little shallow for my liking. But it’s still exquisite.” He twirls it atop his fingertip, then sets it down. “Crazy to think you humans hoard gems, only to bury them with you when you die.”

I sit in the other chair in case he tries to touch anything else. “And I’m sure you think the fae have a better custom.”

He shrugs. “Material wealth is passed down to the eldest, if not taken by the murderer. Yet we fae tend to promise it to mortals on convoluted terms when we’ve lived too many centuries. Boredom, I suppose.” He picks up an emerald, notices my tension, and sets it down. “You should ask Desmond what the most ridiculous ones have been. He comes across records sometimes, in his readings.”

A flick of my magic pulls my door wide open. I jerk my chin. “Get out.”

Finnian stretches and kicks it shut. “Not until you hear me out.”

“There’s not a chance in hell I’m making another vow with a fae,” I seethe. “Especially not you.” Even though Auri was the one who glamoured me, Finnian still stood by and watched. I can’t trust him.

“I’m hurt, Cyn. Is that because of yesterday? That’s why I’m here.” He fixes me with a charming smile that would’ve worked before I saw his true colors. Now, all I see is lies veiled by clever words. Yet when he notices my clenched hands, his smile falters. “You are upset.”

“No shit. Did you come here to rub it in?”

“Came here to make amends, actually.” He leans back and rubs his neck. “Humans and fae. . . we’re different. You lot call it a conscience, right? That little voice in the back of your mind that tells you not to do bad things? For fae, bad things are a different sort. Like. . .”

He thinks for a moment, then lights up with boyish excitement. “Like drowning someone in a river because they hid your left sock! Or ensnaring their lover, though I suppose humans don’t care for that, either. In the moment, what happened with the horse felt like a prank between pals.”

“What part of that is the apology?”

“Hadn’t got to it yet. Just because I have a different idea of bad than you doesn’t mean I shouldn’t respect yours. I shouldn’t have stood by as you kissed my horse.” Finnian smiles, yet there’s a genuine quality to it. He might actually believe that’s sufficient.

I drum my fingers on the table, thinking. There has to be a reason he’s here. “Desmond put you up to this, didn’t he?”

He winces. “Well, maybe, but the point still stands that I’m remorseful. If I weren’t, I couldn’t tell you that I am. Really, Cyn.” The wince becomes imploring. “I want to be friends. We’re different, just as Min and Maeve and I are different, and even Desmond.” He reaches for a pendant. I smack his hand. He withdraws with a rueful grin. “Bad habit, that. Anyway, Dez was right that I broke your trust. Can I get it back?”

I hesitate, but the guilelessness in his dark eyes wins me over. I sigh. “If you stop trying to pilfer my things, maybe.”

“Good!” He straightens. “Might take a bit of self-control, but I’ll at least give them back.”

Gods. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead change the subject. “Min warned me I might lose a knuckle or two if I spend too much time with you.”

“Ah, she’s referring to some of my old escapades.” He fans his right hand and pinches the top of his pinky, but there’s nothing inside the glove. “Finger ends right after the first knuckle. At least I didn’t lose my thumb, like Brandur. He got it sewn back on, more or less.”

“How reassuring,” I reply, but he smiles like he’s missed the sarcasm.

“Got my lucky charm, now.” He procures a small plush creation from his pocket, a humanoid with pointy ears, flowing brown hair, and gold buttons for eyes. It’s as misshapen as the bird he gifted to Desmond, but he looks proud of it. “The heist in Mythos can’t go wrong if my lady is on my side.”

I snort. “I half-expected your ‘lucky charm’ to be your severed pinky.”

He pouts. “You wound me. Do you picture me as a brute?”

“No.” I sigh, and then realize what else he had said. “Heist?”

“To steal the map that Rune lost the bid on at the auction. It’s a map of the Krelthar Mountains, and Dez thinks a secret pass is marked on it, or something like that. Anyway, he said we’ll get to the tomb faster if we don’t use Mordrak’s pass. Those goblins do like their paperwork and pat-downs.” Finnian leans back, the chair rocking on its hind legs.

Every word he said kindled an anticipatory thrill inside me. I sit straighter and clasp my hands together. The allure of Mythos’s hustle and bustle, the shops towering over me, the aroma of roasted chicken skewers and cloying fragrances; it calls my name. I’ve been cooped up in this cave for too long. I need to get out. I need an adventure. One I can prove myself on.