Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

“Listen carefully now, Jase Ballenger. I won’t repeat myself.”

“I’m a good listener.”

I know you are. I’ve known that since our first night together. That’s what makes you dangerous. You make me want to share everything with you. I cleared my throat, signaling I was ready to begin.

“If I were a color, I’d be red as a rose,

I make your blood rush, and tingle your toes,

I taste of honey and spring, and a good bit of trouble,

But I make the birds sing, and all the stars double.

I can be quick, a mere peck, or slow and divine,

And that is probably, the very best kind.”

“Hmm…” he said, as if stumped. “Let me think for a minute…” He rolled up on one elbow, looking down at me, the stars dusting his cheekbones. “Honey?” He kissed my forehead. “Spring?” He kissed my chin. “You are a good bit of trouble, Kazi of Brightmist.”

“I try my best.”

“I may have to take this one slowly…” His hand traveled leisurely from my waist, across my ribs, to my neck, until he was cupping my cheek. My blood rushed; the stars blurred. “Very slowly … to figure it all out.” And then his lips pressed, warm and demanding onto to mine, and I hoped it would take him an eternity to solve the riddle.

* * *

Wren, Synové, and I sat on a stack of lumber, fanning ourselves in the shade and taking a break from leveling a foundation. It was midmorning but already sweltering with the height of summer.

I thought Jase would be gone by now, that all the family would be on their way back home this morning, along with us, but Jase got caught up in discussions with Caemus about the barn and then with Lothar, one of his hired workers he was leaving to supervise the crews, and then when he watched stonemasons moving in to lay the foundation for one of the sheds, he decided it needed to be a bit larger first, and then he paused, eyeing the whole valley, the children swinging from the oak tree, and his gaze fell on the future shed again. He turned to Mason and said, “I’m thinking they need a root cellar too. Why bother with a bigger garden if they have no cool storage? If we put our backs behind it, we should be able to dig it in a few hours.”

A root cellar?

I wasn’t sure I could believe what I was hearing.

It became a competition between Jase, Mason, and Samuel digging on one side, and Aram, Gunner, and Titus on the other. A slow competition. They were feeling the heat too, their shirts long shed. Sweat glistened on their backs. They stopped to wipe their brows often and drink long gulps of water from buckets brought from the river. Sometimes they just poured the water over their heads.

Synové was mostly silent, her eyes wide, forgetting to blink. “I swear, I’ve never seen so much beautiful artwork on skin in all my life.”

“We should probably get back to work,” I said.

“Hell’s bells we shouldn’t,” she said firmly. “I’m certain we need to rest a bit longer.”

We didn’t need much encouragement. None of us moved.

Wren took a long sip of water. “It looks like a whole flock of beautiful, muscled birds taking flight.”

Their tattoos were all different—some on chests, some on shoulders, backs, or arms—but they all had some form of the Ballenger crest on them, the wings of eagles fluttering in front of us. I stared at Jase’s, as taken with it now as the first time I had seen it. Synové was right; it was a work of art, one that I happily gazed upon.

He looked up, catching me watching him. He smiled and flames shot through my belly. “Halfway done,” he called.

Halfway.

That’s what I felt like. I was halfway between worlds, trying to find a story that fit neatly into both. When the root cellar was finished, he moved onto the barn, and then the waterwheel and a sluice from the river. A day passed, and then another. Four days, four nights. The valley was alive with banging, hammering, and sawing. Gunner went back to Tor’s Watch. Titus went back. Aram and Drake went back. There was business to tend to. But Jase stayed. He was giving up tomorrows he didn’t have to spare, tomorrows I had been unable to promise to him.

I began to wonder if I’d been wrong about everything, wrong about the way they ruled Hell’s Mouth, wrong about their history and place among the kingdoms, wrong about their right to govern. Their work here wasn’t just a grudging gift to fulfill an agreement. It felt like far more. It felt like a wish stalk pressed to a blistered foot, like words spoken under a midnight moon to lull me to sleep.

* * *

We stood together at the cookwagon, waiting in line for our food. Jase was close behind me, his hip brushing mine, a reminder that he was there, and I suddenly thought there were things I was hungrier for than dinner.