Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 2)

“Really?” I asked.

“Really,” Eben confirmed.

We hugged and congratulated them and then Natiya gave us a small package that held sage cakes, saying now we could have an official Vagabond wedding too. As soon as I opened the package and the pungent aroma escaped, Natiya clapped her hand over her mouth and scurried away. Eben explained she was still having some nausea and hurried after her.

“At least we don’t have to share,” Jase mused as he took a big bite of the cake.

A sudden hush descended on the camp and we turned. The Queen of Venda and the King of Dalbreck had arrived. We watched them dismount from their horses. Vairlyn cleared her throat. So did Gunner and Priya. It sounded like they were all choking on something, or maybe trying to hold something back. The emotion of the moment swelled in me too. This day was wrapped up in so much history, both old and recent.

Make her come.

Jase had told me his father’s last wishes, for Tor’s Watch to be recognized by the most powerful queen on the continent. And now she was here, on Tor’s Watch soil—here not just to break ground on an expanding settlement but to have Jase sign the final papers that would make Tor’s Watch an official new kingdom.

“Kazimyrah,” the queen said, hugging me first. If the Keep’s smiles were singular, so were the queen’s hugs. You felt them all the way into your bones. She raised a discerning brow and nodded toward Jase. “You keeping him in line?”

“She absolutely is, Your Majesty. She’s a brutal taskmaster,” Jase answered, catching on that this was not going to be a formal occasion but more like a family affair.

“Good!” she answered and gave him a warm hug too before greeting the rest of the family and pulling presents from her pockets for Lydia and Nash, small wooden flutes carved by artisans in Venda.

King Jaxon carried a sleeping Aster on his shoulder, the toddler’s legs and arms dangling loosely in a deep sleep. He spoke quietly so as not to wake his daughter, telling Jase that no kingdom had opposed Tor’s Watch admission into the Alliance, with the exception of Eislandia, which hadn’t weighed in at all because there was still no ruler to succeed Montegue. It was being managed by custodians until a new one was chosen. He whispered his congratulations too, and shook Jase’s hand.

Kerry ran up, eager to meet the king, and Jase introduced him. “This is Kerry of Fogswallow. He’s good at cracking kneecaps. Maybe there’s a place for him in your army?”

“We always need some good knee-crackers,” King Jaxon agreed.

Jase pulled Kerry close to his side. “He’s also the young man who helped save my life. Without him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Honored to meet you, Kerry of Fogswallow,” the king said, shaking his hand. “Keep the Dalbreck army in mind.”

Kerry nodded, staring at the king in awe.

When all the greetings were finished, the papers were signed and cheers erupted. The sound echoed through the valley, pure and holy and joyous, almost like music in a temple. The repeating refrain hummed in my veins, and the look in Jase’s eyes, the way he swallowed and nodded, taking it all in, melted something deep inside me. It was a moment I would never forget. The cheers were followed by laughter, tears, prayers, and countless embraces, and then we all spread out, welcoming the new settlers.

Caemus smiled as they jumped out of wagons and turned in circles, soaking in the beauty of their new home. Their faces were filled with as much wonder as his had been when he first arrived in the valley. The queen was given a tour of the settlement and the fields that continued to be bountiful. Children of the newcomers swarmed the giant oak tree in the center, taking turns on the swing.

These last months swept past me, the lowest lows, the highest highs, and the hope that had kept me going, the hope that was crushed, but rose up again and again, the hope of Lydia, Nash, Jase, the hope of a vault full of people, the hope that so often only hung on by a tenuous thread.

“Mistress Brightmist! What a wondrous day, is it not?”

It was Mustafier, the merchant from the arena. He had brought gifts and clothing for the newcomers and had volunteered to help with the details of getting them settled.

“Yes, Mustafier, exquisitely splendiferous,” I agreed.

He cackled, happy that I remembered his flowery words.

“So, have you crafted a riddle to commemorate this stupendous day?”

His long thick brows twitched, eager.

I smiled, listening to the sounds of beginnings, of saws cutting wood, of hammers pounding nails, of imaginations blooming.

“I think I might,” I answered.

I eased down on a pile of lumber and watched the busyness of the camp, excitement pattering through it like a welcome summer shower. Mustafier waited patiently. “How about this one?” I asked and began.

“My heart is undying,

my wings spread wide,