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Maybe it won’t count for much in the eyes of the gods, but it matters to me.
Now what?Julita mutters as I step out into the wider street.Don’t tell me we’re going back to the cloth factory. You can’t just leave—
“I’m not,” I say, setting off again. “I’m going back. I just needed to—”
A towering figure steps from the shadows to intercept me, and my voice dies in my throat.
Stavros sets his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side and his mouth set at a slanted angle I can’t decipher.
“So,” he says in that cool drawl of his, “you’re even more of a thief than I guessed.”
My hackles rise automatically, but my sense of self-preservation holds me in place, my stance rigid. A slightly hysterical laugh forms at the base of my throat.
Have I gone through all this only to be arrested for petty theft?
I adjust my feet against the uneven dirt of the road in case I need to run for it. “I don’t consider it quite theft when it’s money essentially stolen to begin with. What are you doing here?”
Stavros keeps the same implacable expression. “I saw you hurrying across the courtyard and wondered what your urgent mission is. And I didn’t suppose you were likely to tell me if I simply asked.”
The gleam in his dark gaze dares me to argue. I can’t.
“So you followed me all the way out here?” My skin itches with both irritation and horror. How did I not realize?
Stavros shrugs. “My father was a believer in smarts as well as might. He taught me plenty about stealth when he was there to teach. Where did you get the coins?”
My fingers tighten around the empty pouch. I don’t see any point in lying about that. “Anya was bragging about how she’d won it off one of the kitchen staff.”
“Hmm.” His gaze lifts to the house behind me with a brief head-twitch. He must be able to just make out the glint of the silver by the back window.
To my shock, a genuine guffaw tumbles out of him.
Stavros shakes his head in apparent bemusement. “All this time—Great God help me.All this timeI had the Hand of Kosmel sleeping on my fucking sofa.”
My jaw goes slack. I snap my mouth closed again, my stomach lurching, but my initial reaction will have more than confirmed I recognize that nickname.
Stavros’s gaze is back on me, studying me with another focusing twitch.
“What are you talking about?” I say, because I can’t quite bring myself to give up that easily.
Stavros dismisses my attempt at denial with a careless wave of his prosthetic hand. “Do you think the stories don’t get around that far? The Crown’s Watch listens to gossip, and then they gossip about the more interesting stories among themselves, and I do pass the time with them now and then. I’m more curious how many of the disgruntled merchants they’ve had to pacify were your victims.”
I draw my chin up. “I don’t have anything to say about that.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He studies me for a few moments longer with another subtle twitch of his head. What exactly is he looking for?
I cross my arms in front of me. “Idotake our investigations seriously, whatever you happen to think. I just—I needed to step away and remember why it matters. I was on my way back to the college.”
“I know. I heard you saying so—to Julita, I assume.”
“Yes.”
With a beckoning gesture, he turns in the direction I was headed. “Well, come on then. If you’re well enough to run around the city, you can assist me with my Siege Survival class.”
Is that all? “You’re not going to arrest me?”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I could drag you over to the nearest station of the Crown’s Watch if that’s what you’d prefer.”
“No. No.” I lope forward to join him, feeling abruptly awkward.
