Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

“Turn my back on you?”

I smiled. “Don’t worry,” I answered, spitting his own words back into his face, “I wouldn’t want to be chained to a dead weight. You’re safe, pretty boy.”

“I don’t even get a riddle first?”

I narrowed my eyes.

He slowly turned. “Hurry.”

I had done more humiliating things I supposed, but at the moment I couldn’t remember what they were. I took care of my business quickly. Making the best of it was not going to be easy.

When he turned around again, he reached toward me and I flinched. My hand shot up ready to strike.

“Whoa! Hold on,” he said, pulling back. “I was just going to take a look at your face. You’ve got quite a shiner blooming there.”

I reached up and touched my jaw, feeling the heat of a fresh bruise.

He shrugged. “I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it—you got your hands on the keys—but it makes me wonder, is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

I eyed him cautiously. “Some things,” I answered.

But not many.

CHAPTER NINE

JASE

I grabbed a long branch of driftwood tossed up on the bank and broke it in two, handing one to her. It would serve as both walking stick and protection if we needed it. I doubted the hunters would cross the river after us. We were only a commodity to them and it would cost them less time and trouble to ensnare new victims, but there were four-legged threats out here too. “We’ll sharpen them later,” I said.

We set out through the forest, maneuvering through the dense maze of yellow-ringed spirit trees. The trunks were thin, none much wider than my arm, but they grew closely, making our path an ever-constant zigzag. The floor of the forest was a thick mat of decaying leaves, a soft cushion on our bare feet. Other parts of the journey wouldn’t be this easy. We faced a river of scorching sand ahead, but if I paced it right, we would travel over it in the cool of night.

It was a gamble when I told her about the direction of the settlement. I wasn’t sure how well she knew the terrain. Even if she did, it was easy to confuse one forest or plateau with another out here, and she’d been unconscious the whole time in the hay wagon. My gamble paid off. She didn’t know where we really were—east or west of Hell’s Mouth.

I thought she’d go along easier if she thought she was headed for a Vendan settlement. The alternative was to carry her trussed up over my shoulder the whole way, which would take even longer. It was already going to take too long as it was. The river had taken us way off course, and we wouldn’t be able to move fast with this chain between us—especially without shoes.

She wouldn’t like where we were going, which brought me some satisfaction as there was little else to be satisfied with at the moment. I needed to get home fast. More than ever, this was a time the family needed to be pulling together, showing a unified front. We needed to be fortifying our positions. Scouts had already been sent to outlying posts, watching for threats. Other leagues were always vying for a piece of Hell’s Mouth’s lucrative trade, hoping to displace the Ballengers. Paxton was a wolf sniffing the air for blood every time he came to town. If I wasn’t there, he’d sense weakness and whistle for more of his pack to follow. The same with the other league leaders. They would know something was wrong. The town would become restless too, wondering where I was. Every day, every minute I was gone only made my problems multiply. The others would be covering for me, searching, hoping for the best and putting on a show that all was well. Funeral plans would have to proceed. My fingers curled into my palm, wishing I could hit something.

Today would be the preparation and wrapping of my father’s body. My family would be doing it without me. Tomorrow the tomb would be opened and cleaned, a lantern lit and a daily prayer offered up by family in anticipation of his entombment, and in two weeks his body would be laid on the internment stone for the final good-bye, viewing, and sealing ceremony. And then, once the tomb was shut and sealed, the priestess would say a blessing over the new Patrei. But I wouldn’t be there. Visitors gathered to pay their respects would wonder at my absence, and the fears and whispers would run rampant. So would the wolves. My family was at risk. So was the town—all because of her.

I wondered if she was truly Rahtan. Yes, she was skilled, but she didn’t exactly possess brawn—even if she had managed to overtake me and slam me up against the wall. But juggling? Riddles? Her age. Her poise and demeanor was that of a cynical tested soldier, but her appearance—she was young, younger than me, I was certain. Her black hair fell in thick, long waves, and her hands were delicate, her fingers more suited for a piano than a sword.

Or for slipping keys from a belt.

My doubts doubled and I glanced sideways at her. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth, but she kept step with my brisk pace.

I thought about the queen who had sent her and my father’s last words.

Make her come. The leagues will notice. It will validate our position on this continent.

The Lesser Kingdoms and territories hadn’t been part of the battle, but everyone knew of the war between the Greater Kingdoms and the queen who had led a vastly outnumbered army to an astonishing victory. She could have plucked from any number of skilled soldiers or chosen assassins from three kingdoms to investigate treaty violations. Why this girl?

“Do you actually know the queen?” I asked.

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Her glance at me was sharp, but her one word answer was languid. “Yes.”

Even in one simple word, I heard a hundred nuances—most of them haughty, condescending, and superior.