Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

“Enough of that.” She lightly touched my arm so I would stand, then drew me into her arms. She hugged me tightly, as if she’d been worried, and I found myself hugging her back, holding her in a way I had never done before, my breaths uneven, my throat stabbing, and somewhere deep within I felt a tug, like a stitch pulling

tight, and I imagined its color to be silver. “Welcome home,” she whispered.

When she drew away I noticed her belly. The large round bump was gone and my heart jumped. She must have seen the fear on my face.

“No. Everything’s fine. Come.” She guided me to a cradle beside her bed.

My chest swelled. “She—he?—is beautiful.”

The queen smiled. “She. I can’t stop looking at her. I watch every twitch, every smile, every pout of her lip.” She leaned over and scooped the sleeping baby into her arms, kissing her forehead, then touching her tiny fingers, wonder filling her face.

“Have you named her?” I asked.

She nodded and her eyes glistened. “Aster,” she answered. “I named her Aster. The saving angel.” She kissed the baby again and gently laid her back in the cradle.

“And you have made her world safer, Kazimyrah. I am indebted to you and your team. A thank-you is not nearly enough.”

My throat squeezed. “I am honored to serve, Your Majesty.”

“Will you ever call me Lia?”

“Griz doesn’t approve.”

She shook her head. “Come,” she said. “Tell me about your journey.”

We sat on the settee beneath the window, and she poured us each a goblet of water. I presented her with the prison log, but she wanted to hear about the prisoners from me. She had already heard we had come back with more than we set out for. First I told her about the prisoners who had died en route, then Torback, and then I told her about the captain. She let out a slow breath, and I saw the relief in her face that he was finally captured. But there was also turmoil in her eyes, as if she revisited the pain he had wrought, not just upon Morrighan and Venda, but upon her family. She said she wished her father had lived long enough to see this day.

When I told her about Governor Sarva and Chievdar Kardos, she shook her head in disbelief, shocked that they were still alive. She had known them when she was held prisoner in the Sanctum and remembered their cruel, vindictive ways.

“Captain Illarion still thinks he’s going to get away,” I warned.

“That doesn’t surprise me, but there’s no chance of that now,” she said. “He murdered Captain Azia, one of my husband’s best officers. Rafe will probably guard Illarion himself until he sees him hanging from a rope.”

She assured me that all the prisoners would remain under heavy guard while they awaited trial.

“There’s one other prisoner I need to tell you about,” I said. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to force the wobble from my throat. “This one may take a while.”

The queen’s brows rose with interest, and she sat back on the settee, curling her feet beneath her. “I’m listening.”

Some said it began with the stars.

They brought a magic the world could not contain.

No, my grandfather said, it began with the anger of men.

However it began, we are the end. I was five when the first star struck.

I have no memory of my family, only my grandfather, one of the most powerful men in the world, the leader of a once-great nation, scooping me into his arms and running.

Running is all I remember.

Years of running.

I will never run again.

—Greyson Ballenger, 16

CHAPTER SIXTY