Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

Jase’s fingers laced with mine. We walked through the halls, a rhythm to our steps that announced we were together, a rhythm that felt powerful, unstoppable. Inevitable. We paused, kissed, lingered, like the world wasn’t waiting for us, like the secrets between us didn’t matter, like the entire house was ours and ours alone, every wall, every corner, every landing. We had escaped death today, and a second chance was ours.

“You’re a good bit of trouble, Kazi,” he said, pinning me against the foyer wall, “the kind of trouble that I—” Words burned in his eyes, words he wanted to say, but held back, a silent bargain between us. His thighs were hard against mine, and breath rippled through my chest like a fitful breeze. His thumb lightly traced my lower lip. “We could skip dinner,” he said, his voice husky. He had never pressured me, but I knew what was on his mind. It was on mine too.

“Dinner, pretty boy,” I whispered against his jaw. “Your family’s waiting.”

* * *

Everyone was already seated when we arrived in the dining room. Notably absent were Aunt Dolise and her family.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mason said.

“Beware the gods—you missed prayers,” Titus added.

Priya clucked her tongue. “At least the cold soup won’t get cold.”

Their greetings were sarcastic, but a smile hid behind each one. They were happy to see their brother. Maybe even me.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” I said. “Time got away from us. We—”

“No need to apologize,” Vairlyn said. “It’s been an eventful day.”

Bowls filled with cold mint soup were already placed in front of everyone. Vairlyn and Gunner sat at one end of the long table and the two seats at the head remained empty. Jase pulled one chair out for me, and then he took the other.

“Hmm,” Priya said quietly, noting my spot at the head of the table.

Wren and Synové sat near the middle, and I noticed that Mason was seated next to Synové. I wondered how she had orchestrated that. Samuel sat across from Wren, his right hand heavily bandaged and his arm elevated in a sling. Between his injury, Synové’s bandaged head, and the scrapes and cuts on Wren, Mason, and Jase, we were a sorry looking lot, though decidedly less bloody than earlier today.

“Did you see it?”

“Did you see it?”

Lydia and Nash bounced in their seats, echoing each other’s excitement.

“Open it! Read it!” Lydia said.

Lying beside my bowl was the letter from the queen. The seal had already been broken. I looked down at the other end of the table and Gunner shrugged. “You weren’t here. I wasn’t sure if it was urgent.”

I unfolded the letter and saw immediately that it was written in Morrighese, not Vendan. As I expected, the queen intended for them to read it. I read it aloud, though I was certain most of those present had already viewed it.

“Dear Kazi, Faithful Rahtan in valued service to the crown,”

Wren choked on her water and I sent her a warning look. The queen was more of a casual note writer. She wasn’t one for pomp and circumstance, and her formal greeting made it clear that none of her words were what they seemed. She had understood my letter to her to its core.

“I read your letter with delight and gratitude that the Ballenger family is extending its warm hospitality to you, and to my other esteemed guards.”

Delight meant the whole Vendan Council had a good laugh over it.

“Your revelations are indeed astonishing.”

I don’t believe a word.

“This wild and untamed territory you’ve described is intriguing, and I trust you are using your time wisely to learn all you can about it.”

I hope you’ve found our man by now.

“Lord Falgriz—

I stifled a snort of my own. Griz was no lord, and he hated the teasing title the queen sometimes called him.