by K.N. Lee
The Way of Thieves
The Red Rogue Trilogy
K.N. Lee
Craig A. Price Jr.
Copyright © 2019 by K.N. Lee & Craig A. Price Jr.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
An Exclusive Look at Throne of Deceit
An Exclusive Look at Awakened
About K.N. Lee
Also by K.N. Lee
About Craig A. Price Jr.
Prologue
Aridian stepped into the flickering streetlights, scroll wedged between his arm and chest. A grin came across his face as he reached for his wife, Miranya. She grabbed his hand gently as she stepped into the fog-covered street with him.
An chilly wind swept through the night in the late autumn, but they didn’t need the warmth; they had each other. Aridian spun Miranya around him under the streetlights before placing a kiss on her soft lips. She tasted of peppermint and oranges. Her favorite flavor of spiced tea.
Love surged through him as powerful as the night he’d first kissed her. Soul mates were common. Sure, they did exist, but more often than not, marriage was all about rank or prestige, or to further a bloodline. For Aridian, it was all love. A tingle flourished through his spine as he pressed his forehead against hers.
“We did it, Miranya.”
“You did it,” she said.
They stayed frozen like that for more breaths than Aridian could count. A moment of silence passed between the two of them. They knew how important their task was, and they only made it through because of their unyielding love for each other.
“This spell is going to change everything we know about Tynaereal,” Aridian said.
“Careful, don’t get too arrogant. Remember, this only protects the royalty. It could make them too powerful.”
Aridian flicked his hand. “Yes. It’s only a first step, but if it works, think of the possibilities. If we could create permanent spells to protect anyone we chose from magic—from bodily harm—we could protect everyone. No one will have to walk around this land in fear.”
“There will be some who don’t want that.” Her eyes sombre, filled with uncertainty.
Aridian clenched his teeth. “I know. I want Tynaereal to be a safe place. If we get this to work, it’ll only be here on this land. We know nothing of the land across the sea.”
“It’s been a long night, Aridian. Let’s go home. I miss the children.”
The streetlight above them shattered. A chill ran up Aridian’s spine. He focused on his inner power, his magic, bringing it all inside of him and focusing it into his chest. As the vibration of the air wavered within his ears, he searched and clung for anything amiss.
His senses became heightened, and through the use of his power, he discovered that nothing was amiss.
“What was that?” Miranya asked, her hand clenching tight around his forearm.
He frowned, his lips pressed together tight in a line. “I’m not sure. The firelight magic shouldn’t fail like that.” As he spoke those words, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
His senses must be failing him.
Something was not right.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Let’s go home.”
Aridian nodded. They hurried to pick up their children from a neighbor before heading home. Their house rested on the far north of the city of Dynaesha near the mountains. It was a darker area than the rest of the city, and much more peaceful than the city’s center, but something was different.
Darkness spread over their neighborhood, nearly blotting out the cottages and roads.
“Are all the firelights failing?” Miranya asked, clutching their daughter, Keira to her chest.
She yawned, looking to her mother as she stroked her bright, red hair.
Aridian set Brendan down, and the little boy reached out to hold his mother’s hand.
As Aridian shot a glance at their surroundings, many of the firelights were out. But, that didn’t make sense.
They didn’t fail.
It wasn’t gas or oil like in the nobles’ cities, but firelight, a magical light cast by sorcerers. But sure enough, more than half of the firelights were out in their neighborhood, casting their house in a gloom of darkness.
He reached for the door. “I don’t know.”
He opened the door slowly, his eyes set with caution, his senses outstretching. The room inside was dark. He flinched for an instant before trying again to reach out with his senses, searching for the power of his own firelights inside the house.
Where is the firelight?
Reaching out his palm, he closed his eyes and called to the fire surrounding him. Heat filled his hands as the energy shifted, creating a small flame in his palm.
Inside, everything was a mess. Wooden chairs were thrown across the room. Files littered the floor. Their glass lanterns that had once held firelight lay shattered in pieces. It explained why he couldn’t call out to them to ignite, and why he couldn’t sense them.
Miranya gasped as she stepped inside. She set Keira on the ground to step next to him.
Aridan’s fist shook in rage, the fire in his palm flickering. “Who dares break into our home?”
“They were looking for something,” Miranya whispered.
“What? What could we possibly have that is of any value?”
Miranya looked to the spell blueprint wedged between his arm. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening.
His eyes widened. “How would they know? I just finished this today.”
“You told a few people.”
“Friends. People I could trust,” he replied.
“Are you sure you could trust them?”
A clatter echoed in the house upstairs. Miranya’s eyes widened. Aridian ignited a flame in his other hand.
Miranya got to her knees. “Keira, I need you and your brother to hide in the closet.”
“Mama?” Keira asked. She clutched her favorite doll, tears filling her eyes.
Miranya gently brushed Keira’s hair behind her ears. A glimmer of blue magic left Miranya’s fingertips t
o transfer into her daughter. “I need you to hide. I need you to protect your brother.”
Keira grabbed her younger brother’s hands and the two of them slipped into the closet. When Miranya checked that they were safe, she closed her eyes and focused on her water-light. Moisture in the air siphoned to her grasp as she called it to her. Her hands filled with globes of water. She stepped by her husband’s side.
Five men appeared out of nowhere to surround them. Each one held a short sword and wore a mask over their face. They didn’t wear armor, nor the sacramental robes of sorcerers. Instead, all of them wore black cloaks with hoods, belts strewed with daggers and pouches.
Thieves.
“Give us the scroll, and we can walk away,” one of the men said.
“Let’s talk about this like rational men,” Aridian said.
“Last chance,” the man said.
Inhaling, he tossed the scroll at the man. As it was in the air, he let both firelights out of his hands toward the scroll. One of the men jumped in front of the firelights, and the spheres of fire blasted him to the ground.
“Kill them,” the first man called as he caught the scroll.
Miranya released her water-lights. They collided into one of the thieves, slamming him into the ground. Aridian stepped over to the man, and slammed his foot into the man’s skull several times until he heard a crunch. The time for talking was over.
These men threatened his family, and if they indeed were after the scroll, they threatened a lot more.
This would simply not do.
Two of the others rushed them. Aridian blasted one of them away with another firelight, but the other stabbed him through the chest with a sword. He gagged, then collapsed to the ground. His eyes glazed as he turned to look at his wife. The little energy he had left, he transferred it as love to her.
Miranya screamed as she blasted the man to the ground with her water-light. She summoned another, but grabbed the cold with it, transforming the glowing orb into an icicle. Grabbing it in her hands, she slammed the icicle into the thief’s chest.
Miranya faced the remaining two. One of them was injured. The other held the scroll. She clenched her fists, summoned more water-lights, and rushed toward him. As she reached him, two large icicles in each of her palms, a sword penetrated into her back and through her chest. The blade was yanked backward, and slid through her body, leaving her stunned by the sharp pain that erupted throughout her body.
With a guttural cry, she slumped to the ground.
The injured thief staggered forward over her body. He fell in a pool of her blood. The thief holding the scroll helped him to his feet.
“That was tougher than we thought it would be,” the man covered in Miranya’s blood said.
“We knew they’d likely protect this spell with their life. One way or another, we’d probably have had to kill them.” The man glanced at the scroll under his arm. “Let’s leave before the Sorcerers Guild shows up.”
The two of them made their way to the door when a light tapping echoed behind them.
“What was that?” the thief covered in blood asked.
The two of them walked over to the closet. The first thief opened the door. Two young children aged five or six and another near three years old cuddled against each other, tears streaming down both of their faces.
The thief beamed. “Let me handle them.”
The injured one unsheathed his dagger.
The leader blocked the injured thief with the scroll. “Wait just a minute. These are just children.”
“Sorceress children are dangerous too,” the injured thief said.
“Yes … but they’re young. They can be molded.”
“What are you saying?”
The thief raised his eyebrows, a grin spreading wide across his face. “The Thieves Guild doesn’t have any mages.”
1
Brenden approached the castle with an invitation in his hand.
Oil greased his ebony hair, and tight-fitting black and tailored white satin covered his body. He didn’t like it. It was rather embarrassing.
He handed the invitation to the hostess. The invitation was real and he hadn’t needed to forge it. There were plenty of them cycling through the Nobles Guild. Everyone who was anyone wanted to be a part of the event, and all Brenden had to do was intercept a few parchments heading to lesser nobles.
“Thank you, and welcome to the Lady Quinn’s engagement party,” the hostess said.
Brenden clinched his teeth, put on a fake smile, and nodded.
He swept past her and slipped inside. People lingered everywhere inside the ballroom. The chatter that filled the hall clashed with the music as guests danced and swept each other across the polished floor.
Brenden preferred to keep to himself. Instead of picking a dance partner from the collection of lonely maidens lined against the wall, sitting, and waiting for a potential suitor, he simply observed.
The king and queen stood on an elevated platform behind tables draped in red tablecloths. Elegant golden bowls and plates covered the platform, allowing the higher nobility to dine in relative peace away from the others, but also showcase themselves as being superior.
Brenden’s nose wrinkled.
Nobles. Too arrogant for their own good.
Brenden glanced at them for an instant, but it was long enough to see the queen lift her wine glass and glance at him. His cheek twisted, and he heat filled his face. He wished he could have argued a better way to infiltrate the castle…but he’d been overruled.
Security would be tight on the outside of the ball room with the celebration going on, but he could have managed to sneak around. He knew he could, but it was insisted that he come in the front.
Quinn walked past him, long white hair draping past her bosom against her dark blue silk dress. Her forehead and eyes were powdered with blue and her cheeks glistened with a light purple haze. She looked stunning. Brenden tried to look away, but he found himself caught in her gaze as she turned to study him.
“Lady Quinn.” He bowed.
She held her hand out, which he took in his own to kiss her knuckles. A strange sensation came over him, a tingle, and a spark of electricity.
“I don’t believe we have met. Who are you?”
“Bren—” He coughed into his shoulder. “Brenden.”
Her eyes twinkled as she squeezed his hand. She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brenden. I hope to see you around again.”
With one last appraising look at him, she turned, and walked away.
Brenden closed his eyes and gulped. He was a fool. Not only had he confessed his true name to her, but he’d stared at her like a fool, with mouth agape, and almost forgetting his mission.
Steal a family heirloom from her father.
After a sharp inhale, he turned away. Brenden clenched his teeth and shook his head. He needed to blend with the crowd. Now that Lady Quinn had shown him special attention, his job would become even more difficult. He could only hope the duke hadn’t noticed their brief exchange.
He scanned the crowd, and sure enough, he spotted the duke glaring daggers at him.
Well, I suppose I can’t have my first big solo mission go too easily.
He rubbed his knuckles across his chin, and looked away.
Just my luck.
In the corner of the room, an orchestra began playing. The tension in Brenden’s expression began to fade.
The melody soothed him, evening out the tension and fine lines in his forehead. The harp’s smooth twang mixed with the cello’s low hum. After a few moments, the viola mixed in to add a higher pitch to the symphony. He turned to watch the musicians and held his breath as the violinist brought her bow to the instrument. The higher pitch of the violin blended perfectly and he let go of his breath, chills running down his neck as he listened.
“Excuse me, would you like to dance?” a sharp, yet lovely voice asked him.
He turned ar
ound to see a woman in a light blue dress and deep, bright red hair.
His eyes bulged. “What are you doing here?”
She placed her fingers on his lips. “Shh, dance with me.”
The melody began to pick up and Brenden was dragged onto the dance floor. Several others were already dancing. Everyone was stiff, with fully erect posture, and uniform dancing.
Through clenched teeth, he repeated his question. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you with Lady Quinn. She seems to have a liking toward you.”
Brenden scowled.
“Though, I suppose you two would make an adorable couple. Provided you kill her fiancé first.”
“Enough.”
“I suppose I could do it for you,” she continued, ignoring his protest.
“I said, enough.”
“However, with her in our lives we wouldn’t be able to spend as much time together. Oh, Brenden, I don’t know if I could handle that. You know how much I enjoy spending time with you.” She drawled her words out, dripping them with sarcasm.
“This is my mission. I can accomplish it without you.”
“Can you? I think one more look from Lady Quinn, and your knees will melt from under you. I am here to keep an eye on you. And—just to be clear—I can do this without you.”
“I was tasked with this mission, not you.”
“I do wonder why,” she said, lifting a brow. “You have such a hard time doing things in public.”