Page 63 of Thief of Hearts

My sisters had spoken of men who pursued them relentlessly and then, once they’d bedded them, never talked to my sisters again.

Was Zain like that? Now that the thrill of the pursuit was gone, was he bored? It would make sense, given his profession. His life was probably one dangerous and exciting moment to the next.

I was not going to wait around feeling sorry for myself. If he was a big enough fool to miss out on the chance to be with me, that was his problem. Such an opportunity would be a blessing from the gods.

Levern chose that moment to walk by me, and I aggressively called out, “Good luck, Epirian!”

That at least gave me one moment of satisfaction.

I walked away from Zain. I wasn’t angry. It usually took a fair amount to anger me.

To be fair, I was annoyed. But I wasn’t going to make a scene or demand he explain himself. If that was the sort of man he was, then I would be better off without him.

Realistically, nothing had changed—there couldn’t be a future for us. I tried to imagine my mother’s face if I brought the king of thieves home with me. The thought of my family’s reactions made me smile. My mother might actually try to kill him.

I stole a glance at him and saw he was talking to one of the other competitors. Zain had an overwhelming amount of confidence. As if he had nothing to prove to anyone because he’d already proved it.

Turning away from him, I reminded myself that I would not be behaving like a lovesick girl.

I wanted him to tell me where he had gone and why. I’d thought we had at least enough of a friendship that he would share that with me without making up vague answers. It bothered me that I didn’t know. And while I understood that he didn’t owe it to me, I still wanted him to talk to me. To feel like I was someone he could confide in.

I went to my designated room to prepare for the race. I had been asked for my nation’s colors, and I found a long-sleeved, padded tunic waiting for me. It was blue, the same shade as my woad tattoos, which was Invara’s favorite color. Red lined the edges, symbolic of Thracian courage and our connection to the goddess. I put it on and it went all the way to my ankles. I belted it at my waist.

The officials had asked that the competitors wear our armor. Initially I had thought that the request was because of how dangerous chariot racing was, but I’d learned it was solely so that the spectators could identify each driver easily.

I didn’t have everything with me, but I put on what I did have. A chest piece and my bracers. I wouldn’t need them were I to get in an actual fight, but it made me feel better to have them with me when I was traveling. I slid my grandmother’s shield into the slot on the back of my armor.

It had always been the shield that I felt most connected to—so many of my family members chose ornate shields with spikes and decorations, but my grandmother had preferred for hers to be smooth and rounded. She said it made the enemy’s blade slide off.

When I emerged from my room, I saw Zain waiting for me. He pushed off from the wall and came to fall into step beside me. I resolved to not notice how handsome he looked—his long, dark red tunic covered by a silver chest piece that somehow made him seem even bigger.

“A lion?” he asked, pointing toward my chest.

“Invara’s symbol,” I said. I glanced at him. “A snake? I thought you were from everywhere and nowhere.” He shouldn’t have had a symbol on his chest.

“I chose this because a snake is Eramis’s sacred animal.”

“That seems fitting,” I told him. I was beginning to think the two had something in common.

“My illora, are you calling me a snake?” He seemed delighted by the prospect. “What a marvelous compliment.”

“A compliment?”

“Snakes are powerful. They are symbols of healing, of dying and being reborn, shedding an old life and starting a new one. They are guardians because they are wise and cunning.”

“And often dangerous,” I said.

“And often dangerous,” he agreed.

When we entered the arena, I asked him, “Are we doing heats again?”

“Everyone who is still here will race together. Many of the competitors have left because there’s no chance of them winning.”

If competitors were gone . . . “Does that mean there are empty rooms?”

He looked surprised by my question but quickly recovered. “Possibly. But then Dagger would be so sad if you left.”

If I wanted him to behave like an adult and communicate, then I would have to do the same. And there wouldn’t be a chance to repair things if I was somewhere else. “I wouldn’t want to make Dagger sad.”