Page 93 of A Thief Among Fae

“With the marks from that ring alone, you could all live like kings,” I tell him. “You would never need to steal again.”

It must be the wrong thing to say because Rune sucks in a sharp breath. “Objects as fine as these are not mere investments, Cyn. They’re trophies. They define our success.”

Stepping toward the shelves, I try to see the loot not as heaps of preserved food in my family’s cellar and snug clothing on their backs, but as what Rune considers them: trophies.

I can’t.

“Clearly you’re successful enough to leave this cave for a castle.”

He shrugs. “Where would the mystery be in that? We wouldn’t want just anyone waltzing up to our door. There are untold benefits in being elusive. Why don’t we sit? These chairs belonged to the Thane of Horalden and deserve some use.” He closes the door, then squeezes past me to the desk and sits.

“What did you want to speak about?” I don’t sit. Not yet. Despite the thieves’ trust in him, my magic has already grasped the bejeweled dagger on his desk. Just in case. Of everyone here, I know Rune the least.

“I wanted to congratulate you on stealing the map.” He grins, and I’m wise enough to grin back.

“Thank you.”

“Were you caught?”

I grimace. “Unfortunately. The housecarl saw my face before Brandur knocked her out. She didn’t see his and Finnian’s, at least.”

Rune dismissively waves his hand. “I bet she didn’t remember a hint of your charming countenance when she woke. And your stealth will improve with time.”

Charming. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What a relentless flirt.

“Now, the reason I needed to speak with you. . . It’s about the fae.” He grabs his dagger and spins the hilt against the gleaming wood. “Desmond and Aurielle. Although I fear Finnian has become far too comfortable with them. Even though his allegiance is to the guild, sometimes blood runs thicker than water.”

I finally take the seat across from him. “It always runs thicker than water.”

Rune chuckles. “I’m sorry?”

“In the literal sense, blood is always thicker than water.” I shift in the chair. It’s too plush. Everything about this room is too much of something.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. In the literal sense.”

There’s a dramatic pause.

“How well do you know our two guests? Surely you’ve heard rumors of the unrest in the Hollowlands. Have they mentioned anything to you about it?”

Mentioned anything to me? I snort. “All they trust me with is small talk.” I don’t tell him the truth, that they’ve formed a legion against Avedor’s wishes. An instinct whispers in the back of my mind that it’s unwise to add fuel to the fire, and surely the lord of thieves would know already. So I pretend I’m clueless. “Why do you ask?”

Rune’s dagger spins one full turn, then two. “Nothing, perhaps. However, they’ve picked an interesting time to hunt for a lost tomb. From what I’ve heard, the Avedoran military has doubled down. The guards, the patrols, the sentries. Why wouldn’t dear Desmond want to be home protecting his kingdom with a Gift as powerful as his?”

Wait, Desmond told Rune what his Gift is? He trusts Rune more than me?

The guildmaster’s face falls in apology when he sees the betrayal on mine. “I thought he told you, honestly. But I’m afraid it’s not my secret to give.” He shakes his head as if admonishing Desmond. “Would you like some brandy?” He produces a bottle and two crystal glasses from a hidden drawer in his desk.

“No thanks.” The last thing I want to do with the sourness in my stomach is add alcohol. “Was that all?”

“You should consider joining the guild,” Rune says as he pours himself a glass. “A Gift like yours is just that to a thief—a gift. Not to mention you’re courageous and resourceful, and dare I say, you have a thief’s hunger for prosperity. It’s not every day that one meets a highly accomplished tomb raider.”

How could anyone not let flattery like that soften them at least a little? Even the shame I felt after taking the housecarl’s necklace is buried by a sea of possibilities. I could belong here if I put my morals aside. Really, truly belong. And give my parents enough marks that they could leave their toilsome life in Nettlerock behind for good.

“I’ll think about it.” Then I stand, looking over his collection one last time as I head to the door.

“Cyn?” Rune asks. His dagger stills.

“Yes?” I grip the doorknob, waiting for him to continue.