Page 69 of Heart of Thieves

She juts out her chin. So am I.

Lola. Please.

Her eyes flash, as though the rawness in my tone has struck something deep inside her, and then my magic falters as my illusionary threads are jerked out of my hands.

Lola has severed them.

I’m so impressed I nearly miss Laurel pointing out someone’s costume nearby. I follow where she’s pointing so she thinks I’m giving her my full attention, chuckling in response, before twisting to catch another glimpse of Lola.

A man stands before her, offering his hand, and she’s smiling, putting her fingers in his.

My stomach tightens and my teeth snap down hard together. Who the devil does he think he is?

I maneuver Laurel closer to them, reaching for Lola with my magic and meeting only a locked door.

The mysterious bastard twirls her out, and I mimic the movement with Laurel as I pass close enough to Lola to reach out my free hand behind me, grazing Lola’s long enough to grasp her pinkie in my own. She falters for just a second, and I whisper, “May guile guard you, my dear,” before releasing her to complete her twirl as I catch Laurel in my own embrace.

When I glance Lola’s way, she’s staring at me, and I know she’s remembering the last time I twined my little finger around hers and spoke the same words. The final day of my tournament. Back when I was begging her to trust me.

Please, I mouth to her.

She purses her lips and turns away, and I can only pray she’ll take heed.

“What is she doing here?” Laurel says, and I jolt. Did she catch that interaction?

But she’s looking at a young woman near the refreshments in a formfitting silver gown tied around the waist with a black ribbon. Silver bangles hang from her wrists, and dangling earrings dust her shoulders.

I recognize her instantly. Estelle Monroe, the winner of last year’s tournament who became a close friend of Lola’s during this year’s.

“You know her?” I blink back at Laurel, who’s stopped dancing to stare.

Estelle holds her gaze steady, and a thousand words pass unspoken between them.

“Yes, I do.” Laurel’s mouth twists. “Go find out what she’s doing here.”

“It . . . seems like she would prefer to speak with you.”

“She doesn’t trust me anymore.” Laurel snatches up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, downing it in one go before snapping, “I want you to get her secret by force like you did with Ostena.”

“Here?” I gesture at the crowd. “That would cause a scene.”

“You think I care if there’s a scene?” Laurel’s voice quavers on the edge of panic, and her hands shake as she hands her empty glass to another waiter. “That woman’s here to stop me, Nic. You can count on that.”

“Attacking her would only make us more conspicuous.”

Laurel purses her lips, but she doesn’t argue, so I forge ahead.

“Maybe there will be a better time to approach Estelle. One that won’t compromise us.” Perhaps I can use this opportunity to learn more about what she meant the other day about some victims being more open to her control than others. “What if,” I continue, steering her away from the table, “we focus our efforts on determining our targets?”

She sighs. “Fine.”

I look around, ducking close to Laurel’s ear conspiratorially. “Who do the gods want us to pursue?”

Laurel scrutinizes the dancing couples. “Her.” She nods at a woman in magenta. “And the man in the blue tuxedo behind her.” I follow where she indicates and frown when I recognize him. That man attended my father’s parish regularly, supplicating to the gods nightly for forgiveness for perceived wrongdoings. He’d be the last person in Aethera I’d consider evil.

My eyes flick to another man dancing nearby—one of the biggest whales who ever frequented my casino, thanks to the exorbitant amounts of money he’d embezzled from charities.

I wait for Laurel to point him out, but she moves on to another group watching from the sidelines.