“Well, maybe not exactly here. Maybe in town.”
“And with Parsuss still up in the air, the custodians need help.”
“The queen says she can’t put it all on you.”
“And with us—”
“Well—”
Finally their chatter slowed. “I think the queen mostly knew we were missing it here,” Synové said.
“Missing you,” Wren added.
“And some of those Ballengers,” Synové said. “But not the nasty one.”
I suspected “the nasty one” now referred to Mason.
* * *
My heart soared as I walked with my bowl of stew and rye, like I was a Valsprey in the clouds carrying the best kind of message. I was afraid to even think it. Wren and Synové. Here. A perfect day. Would the gods hear?
I looked up into the heavens and shook off the thought.
When I reached the gathering beneath the oak trees, there was no longer the Ballenger-Vendan divide. Everyone was spread out, finishing their dinners, perched on whatever seat they could find, stacks of lumber, sides of wagons, overturned buckets, and the few benches we had brought along. Lydia and Nash had already gobbled up their dinners and huddled near the center oak with Kerry, their flutes in hand as he tried to teach them the tune of “Wolf Moon.” Gunner sat off from the crowd—with Jurga—slowly eating his stew, his eyes mostly on her. I searched for Jase and spotted him sitting on a crate in deep conversation with King Jaxon, both of them with sleeves rolled up, their boots thick with dust. Kerry said they had all been digging post holes together.
I watched Jase’s face as I ate my stew, his expression animated, his hands moving as he explained something, the king nodding in return. I smiled. I remembered his hands moving just as passionately when I refused to sign the letter to the queen until he agreed to reparations. I had believed in Jase, but I had never thought a day like this would come. The twists and turns were always surprising.
Wren, Synové, Priya, and a Vendan newcomer sat on a bench together finishing their meal, all of them leaning in close like they were old friends. And then Mason approached them, talking mostly to Priya. Synové looked down, fiddling with her persimmon braid, pretending he wasn’t there, but I saw his dark eyes glance her way again and again.
An older boy joined Lydia, Nash, and Kerry, and led them in the tune. The wistful melody of their flutes floated through the camp like a soft hypnotizing smoke. Heads turned.
The king pulled the queen to her feet to dance.
Kaden and Pauline followed, their children holding on to Pauline’s skirt and Kaden’s trousers, Kaden kissing Pauline over their heads, before Kit reached up, wanting to be held in her father’s arms.
Several of the newcomers joined hands, pulling in Paxton, Titus, Priya, and Aleski, showing them the simple swaying Vendan dance.
Eridine and Hélder circled their arms through Vairlyn’s, and Aram and Samuel grabbed Wren’s hands, pulling her over to join them.
Caemus sat on a stump, nodding and tapping his foot in time to the tune.
Watch for the magic, Kazi. It is all around you.
“Dance?”
I whirled and warm brown eyes met mine. “Patrei, I was beginning to think we would never get a moment alone.”
“Then you don’t know me very well, do you?”
“Oh, I know you, all right. I can see your kind coming a mile away. This is all for show, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.”
Jase pulled me into his arms.
I laid my head on his shoulder, feeling his muscled chest beneath my cheek, breathing in his scent, the smell of fresh-sawn lumber still on his clothes. “Tell me the riddle again, Jase,” I whispered.
“You just want to make wrong guesses so you can kiss me.”
I clucked my tongue. “You’re onto me, Patrei.”
He pulled me closer. “Happy to oblige, Ambassador,” he said, and then whispered the riddle, his voice like a soft warm blanket around my shoulders. I was lost in its magic.
Lost in wonder.
Lost in gratitude.
Utterly lost, but completely found,
Captured, taken … a prisoner bound.
I made wrong guesses as he knew I would, and he kissed me between each one. A wilderness sprang up around us, wish stalks filled our pockets, and a chain jingled between our ankles. The twists and turns I never could have foreseen, the steps that brought us from there to here, they tumbled through my head in an astonishing blur.
I happily lost track of time, but then Jase nudged me and whispered, “Look over there.”
I opened my eyes and saw Mason approach Synové across the way. He appeared to speak a few words to her. She spoke a few back and then he took her hand and pulled her out to the clearing to dance. Their steps were hesitant, but slowly the space between them closed and Synové rested her head on his shoulder.
The queen once told me there were a hundred ways to fall in love. Maybe there were a hundred ways to find and give forgiveness too. I think I had already found a few of them.
* * *
I jotted a few last words down in my journal, recording every detail of the way the final papers were signed, the way Jase had looked, the way I felt, remembering the scent of campfires and meadow and hope, who was there and what they said, and I thought about the way history was made every day in small and large ways, by all kinds of people, every action creating new destinies, even the act of naming an obscure little town. New Fogswallow. The settlement name was finally decided. Caemus and Jase suggested it, and Kerry and the rest of the camp enthusiastically agreed. A bit of the past, a bit of the future. The first new city of Tor’s Watch.
Jase pushed open the tent flap and walked inside. “Mije and Tigone are saddled up and ready.” It was time to go home. The barn and mill were done. The houses were well underway, the stonemasons now laying their foundations.
Jase leaned over where I worked at the desk and swept my hair aside, kissing my neck. “I have a surprise for you when we get home.”
“Jase Ballenger, every day with you is a surprise.”
He peeked over my shoulder. “Getting it all down?”
“Every word.”
“Good,” he whispered. “We have a lot of shelves to fill.”
I closed the book, stuffed it in my saddlebag, and we left to go home.
Who will write our story, Jase?
We will, Kazi. You and I will write our own story.
And side by side, every day, that is what we do.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The nest was abandoned, the jay long dead. The straw and sticks had fallen from the crook of the tree season by season. Lowly thieves, the crow thought, that’s all jays are. But a glint caught the crow’s attention. He circled, eyeing the prize. What had the jay stolen now? Something colorful and shiny.
It was too good to pass up. It would look impressive in his nest too. He pecked it loose from the weave of sticks, then clutched it in his claw before it could fall to the ground. As he flew away, he didn’t notice the stopper was loose. It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t put it back anyway. Even he wasn’t that clever a crow.
Dust slipped from the tiny vial, leaving a nice glittering trail behind him. Some of it floated to the ground; some caught on the wind, swirling upward into the clouds; and some whooshed away on currents traveling to places far beyond Tor’s Watch.
Soon the glitter was far behind him, already forgotten by the crow. All he could think of was how magnificent his nest would be once it held his new shiny prize.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, a world of thanks to all the readers, booksellers, librarians, and more who have bought, embraced, and spread the word of the Remnant realm in countless ways. Without you, this world wouldn’t exist beyond the first book. Your imaginations and enthusiasm expanded it all the way to Hell’s Mouth—and then some.
My brilliant agent, Rosemary Stimola, is a one-of-a-kind wonder. Thank you, Ro, for b
eing the indomitable you and also for leading the stellar Studio crew: Pete, Adriana, Allison, Erica, and Debra, who help me navigate this business.
I am grateful for the incredible team at Macmillan and Henry Holt who work their book magic: Jean Feiwel, Laura Godwin, Angus Killick, Jon Yaged, Christian Trimmer, Morgan Dubin, Brittany Pearlman, Ashley Woodfolk, Teresa Ferraiolo, Gaby Salpeter, Allison Verost, Lucy Del Priore, Katie Halata, Mariel Dawson, Robert Brown, Molly Ellis, Jennifer Gonzalez, Jennifer Edwards, Jess Brigman, Rebecca Schmidt, Mark Von Bargen, and Sofrina Hinton. Thank you also to the many more who work tirelessly behind the scenes. I’m thankful to you all for your dedication and immense talent.
I am certain that Starr Baer, Ana Deboo, and Rachel Murray are superheroes with superpowers. They read crazy early drafts of Vow of Thieves and somehow made sense of it all and then offered clever guidance. Thank you. I owe you all new capes.
Rich Deas did it again. How could he top the gorgeous cover of Dance of Thieves? I thought it impossible, but Rich always manages to up his game. Mike Burroughs’s elegant touch with design details helped make the book a work of art. Tremendous thanks to you both.
I will just say it right now, because it is true: Kate Farrell, my editor, is a goddess. She is patient, encouraging, creative beyond words, and has special foresight matched by none. She believed in this story every step of the way, and her wise counsel helped me regain my vision when I was lost. She deserves a constellation named after her.
Thank you to all of my foreign publishers who have created such beautiful books and gotten them into the hands of readers all over the world in such spectacular style. I hope to one day thank you all personally!
I am forever grateful to fellow writers Alyson Noël, Marlene Perez, Melissa Wyatt, Jodi Meadows, Robin LaFevers, Stephanie Garber, and Jill Rubalcaba, who offer advice, laughter, cheerleading, perspective, and wisdom through all the ups and downs of this business.
Like Jase Ballenger, my family is my foundation and strength, though my family is much more well-behaved than his—most of the time. Ben, Karen, Jessica, Dan, Ava, Emily, Leah, and sweet little Riley, oh the smiles you bring. You are my inspiration and joy.
And once again, my deepest thanks to Dennis, who literally watches my back and heart at every turn. He is a warrior of his word and I am more grateful for him than the air I breathe.
PRAISE FOR NEW YORK TIMES–BESTSELLING AUTHOR MARY E. PEARSON’S DANCE OF THIEVES:
“A brilliant fantasy with a boldly beating heart. Mary E. Pearson is a fearless storyteller—I’m still trying to catch my breath from this book.”
—Stephanie Garber, New York Times–bestselling author of Caraval and Legendary
“The slow-burning, seductive romance never overwhelms the intricate plot, which is built with layers upon layers of twists, reveals, and double-crosses.”
—Booklist
“Pearson is a gifted storyteller and spinner of eminently satisfying romances and fantasy. Fans will thrill at these newest protagonists, especially the women warriors, who are equal partners in the play for power.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This novel has it all—romance, conflict, danger, and humor.”
—School Library Journal
“Women are the driving force, and it’s incredibly refreshing to see that womanhood take every form. Girls get to be anything in this story, from dangerous to gentle to both, and everything in-between. This isn’t a girl-pitted-against-girl book. This is a book where women get to be unabashedly powerful.”
—Quill and Feather
“This breathtaking sequel to Dance of Thieves delivers.”
—Booklist
About the Author
Mary E. Pearson is the author of many novels for teens, including Dance of Thieves, the New York Times–bestselling Remnant Chronicles—The Kiss of Deception, The Heart of Betrayal, and The Beauty of Darkness—and the acclaimed Jenna Fox Chronicles. She writes full-time from her home in Carlsbad, California. marypearson.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One: Kazimyrah of Brightmist
Chapter Two: Kazi
Chapter Three: Jase
Chapter Four: Kazi
Chapter Five: Jase
Chapter Six: Kazi
Chapter Seven: Jase
Chapter Eight: Kazi
Chapter Nine: Kazi
Chapter Ten: Kazi
Chapter Eleven: Kazi
Chapter Twelve: Kazi
Chapter Thirteen: Jase
Chapter Fourteen: Kazi
Chapter Fifteen: Jase
Chapter Sixteen: Kazi
Chapter Seventeen: Jase
Chapter Eighteen: Kazi
Chapter Nineteen: Jase
Chapter Twenty: Kazi
Chapter Twenty-One: Jase
Chapter Twenty-Two: Kazi
Chapter Twenty-Three: Jase
Chapter Twenty-Four: Kazi
Chapter Twenty-Five: Jase
Chapter Twenty-Six: Kazi
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Jase
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Kazi
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Jase
Chapter Thirty: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-One: Jase
Chapter Thirty-Two: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-Three: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-Four: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-Five: Jase
Chapter Thirty-Six: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Jase
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Kazi
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Jase
Chapter Forty: Kazi
Chapter Forty-One: Jase
Chapter Forty-Two: Kazi
Chapter Forty-Three: Jase
Chapter Forty-Four: Kazi
Chapter Forty-Five: Jase
Chapter Forty-Six: Kazi
Chapter Forty-Seven: Jase
Chapter Forty-Eight: Kazi
Chapter Forty-Nine: Jase
Chapter Fifty: Kazi
Chapter Fifty-One: Jase
Chapter Fifty-Two: Kazi
Chapter Fifty-Three: Jase
Chapter Fifty-Four: Jase
Chapter Fifty-Five: Kazi
Chapter Fifty-Six: Jase
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Kazi
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Jase
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Kazi
Chapter Sixty: Jase
Chapter Sixty-One: Kazi
Chapter Sixty-Two: Jase
Chapter Sixty-Three: Kazi
Chapter Sixty-Four: Kazi
Chapter Sixty-Five: Kazi
Chapter Sixty-Six: Jase
Chapter Sixty-Seven: Kazi
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Acknowledgments
Praise for New York Times–Bestselling Author Mary E. Pearson’s Dance of Thieves:
About the Author
Copyright
Text copyright © 2019 by Mary E. Pearson
Map copyright © 2019 by Keith Thompson
Henry Holt and Company, Publishers since 1866
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2018955720
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First hardcover edition 2019
eBook edition August 2019
eISBN 9781250162663
Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves) Page 40