Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

I searched for Jase. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was probably occupied with other guests. There were so many. I guessed about two hundred.

Lydia and Nash ran between tables and shrubs with their young cousins, laughing and playing tag. Surely if the captain was here he’d be among the guests, perhaps going by a different name to hide his identity. Maybe the Ballengers didn’t even know they had a wanted criminal in their midst? Was that possible? It was a hope that suddenly sprang in me.

And then, against my will, my eyes searched again for the pale, bloodless face, but I came to another one instead. The man who had followed me today. I alerted Wren and Synové. He obviously wasn’t tailing me anymore, so why was he so intently keeping an eye on me?

“He’s still watching,” Wren whispered to me a few minutes later.

“He knows who I am,” I said.

“If he knew, he wouldn’t still be watching,” Synové answered. “He’s still trying to figure it out. Even if he makes the connection, you can deny it. You don’t look anything like that girl anymore.”

“But her name,” Wren replied.

“No Previzi driver ever knew the name of a street rat.”

“Not Kazi. Her other name. Ten. Everyone knew that one.”

“She simply denies the name too.”

The name that would make doors close for me. No one let their guard down around an accomplished thief.

I turned and looked directly at him and smiled as if surprised. He nodded and walked away.

“Taste this,” Synové said, already forgetting the driver, shoving a small crisp of bread slathered with a thick tangy relish into my hand. She rolled her eyes like she was tasting a fruit of the gods.

I groaned with pleasure. Wren licked every crumb from her fingers.

Synové grinned and put her hands on her hips. “Look at us. Being fed and clothed like royalty.”

Wren smacked her lips. “Enjoy it while you can.”

We all knew this was a short-lived indulgence.

“Oh, trust me,” Synové answered, “I am. But not as much as Kazi’s enjoying it.” Her eyes narrowed, and I knew what she was implying. I waited for a lecture but instead I saw unexpected worry. “I like him too,” she said, “but you know that can’t last either. Not once we—”

Her brows lifted and she left the last thought hanging for me to complete. Not once we steal away his secret guest? Not once he finds out why I’m really here?

“I’m not expecting anything to last,” I replied with disdain. “I’m only doing my job the best I can.”

“Admirable,” Wren answered and exchanged a dubious glance with Synové.

The thing that still puzzled me was, why? What did a traitorous, on-the-run captain who had no army to command have to offer the Ballengers? He had barely escaped a battlefield with the clothes on his back. He had never gotten his promised fortune from the Komizar, and yet, he had something. Something worth their risks. If he was here. But the queen was certain her informant was reliable, or she wouldn’t have sent us.

As we nibbled more food, I told them about the layout of the compound, pointing only with eyes to the various buildings. “Behind Greycastle and Riverbend are the stables and outbuildings. Darkcottage is empty, so he’s not staying there.”

Music started up and a group of women began dancing, Vairlyn among them.

Wren grimaced. “How’s your foot?”

“Throbbing,” I answered. “The birchwings is beginning to wear off. You two will have to do twice the dancing to cover for me. The Ballengers are insulted easily and if none of us dance—”

Wren’s brows pulled down in a disturbed V. “I don’t know a thing about dancing.”

“Sure you do, Wren,” Synové said, nudging her with her elbow. “We used to dance to the flutes in the jehendra on market days.”

“That was twirling, falling on our backsides, and laughing.”

Synové shrugged. “It’s all about the same. Add a little swaying. Just watch what everyone else does. Damn, with that dress on, no one will be watching where your feet go anyway. We—”