Page 10 of Heart of Thieves

A lump rises in my throat as she cautiously loosens her magical hold on my mouth once again.

“Am I a corruptor or the corrupted?” I ask softly. “That’s entirely up to you,” she whispers.

I know as sure as I’ve known anything that she will never believe me no matter how many times I try to tell her the stars did not give her this power for any kind of purpose. Because I know how unbreakable that lie is under her skin. How orthodox she always was about the gods.

And I know how desperately she wants to save me, in her twisted way. As desperately as I wanted to save Enzo that night on the beach.

Which means that resisting her will only keep me imprisoned.

So, though it feels like tearing myself apart, I lie.

“Okay, Laurel,” I say.

She pulls back, eyes searching mine. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

A smile cuts across her face, glimmering through her tears.

“What have the stars asked you to do?” I pause, amending my question. “What do they need from . . .” I swallow the metallic taste of my own deception. “. . . from me?”

“Aethera is crawling with seaspawn. Criminals and thieves and gang lords.”

I wait for her to go on. “And?”

“We need to get rid of them. All of them. Before they destroy more innocents.” She scrubs tears from her cheeks. “And you’re going to help me do it.”

Her words hit me in the gut, repeating over and over with every twist and turn of the cab.

She seems to sense my turmoil, because she does not speak again, only keeps her hold on my body as she drives.

If I keep her trusting me like this long enough, she’s sure to loosen her grip on my body, right? I could run. Get out of range of her powers. But then . . . what would I do? Keep running? Do I want to spend the rest of my life hiding from her? Would I be able to live with myself knowing what she has planned for the people of Aethera?

Who will she include in her list of targets? People who came to my casino? My old employees? My brother’s Tentacles?

A pair of mismatched blue eyes magnified by butterfly-frame spectacles unfurls in my mind.

Lola is the daughter of the most wanted crime boss in Aethera—perhaps all of Celestia. And a thief to boot. Would she be on Laurel’s list?

Dread slicks through me like oil, turning my stomach.

I cannot let that happen. Will not let that happen.

If I want to stop Laurel, I have to do as Enzo did with me when we were younger—behave as though I trust her tales, as though I’m trying, as though I want to supplicate to her stars. Just long enough for her to trust me. To let me see the edges of her magic, the price it exacts from her, its limits and setbacks. To loosen her grip on my body long enough for me to stop her before she hurts anyone.

Before she hurts Lola.

As we hurtle through Waterside, gravity tips sideways, just like that first night I glimpsed a dancer across my main gambling room at the Liar’s Den. My eyes follow where the world seems to be tilting, and I glimpse a nightclub called Luxuria through the window.

Lola is in there.

A stream of magic wheels away from me. What might Lola be using it for? What face might she be wearing? Who might she be speaking to?

Thinking about her brings back echoes of the words she shouted at me the last time we spoke. I don’t want the starsdamned prize! I want you, you ridiculous, sparkly, lying, cocky bastard.

Does she still?

Would she, if she knew the things I might do for Laurel?