She barely heard Feral Fox and certainly couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping. Two silver coins. The boys at the table gaped. Goul gulped, and Ivan swore. If Vlad pulled himself together and won, she and Blue Eyes would share that pool.
More money than she’d ever seen in her life, let alone dreamed of having. What could possibly have prompted Blue Eyes to wager so much? When Vlad won and she and Blue Eyes shared the bet, he would be out of pocket. More fool him.
One silver coin would get her and Klaus safely to Ruepa, the capital of the Kingdom of Atria, her homeland.
Now, two silver coins would set them up properly in the city. Lost in the crowd, the Kňazer and the Martka would never find them. They’d finally be safe. With her fighting skills and savvy, and Klaus’s gentle wisdom, they could build a new life for themselves.
But first Vlad had to win—and she had to wheedle that second coin from Blue Eyes without being impaled on the fancy sword hanging at his side.
Hands shoved lazily into the pockets of black trousers trimmed with gold thread that matched his tunic and jacket, Blue Eyes ignored them all and watched the fight. His drenched clothes hugged rippling muscles. Expensive clothes that poorly concealed a fighter’s body.
She pulled her attention away from him, back to the fight.
Arms wide, exuding confidence, Matthias skipped from foot to foot. He had a lot to be cocky about. Blood poured from Vlad’s nose and mouth. It mingled with the mud coating his face and clothes. Still, he circled Matthias with a predatory gleam in his fiery eyes.
Was Vlad playing the crowd? Hoping to build a reputation for himself as the kid who came from nowhere to win?
It’s what she would have done.
While she applauded his motives, she still tapped her icy fingers impatiently against her leg.
Come on, Vlad. Just flatten him. You know you want to.
Vlad struck a fist straight into Matthias’s unprotected stomach. Matthias’s roar turned to a yelp, and he buckled. Vlad skipped around and planted his boot heel square into Matthias’s groin. Matthias howled and hit the mud with his knees. His hands clutched his goodies.
A wild laugh burst from her lips.
Vlad jumped away and landed one last kick on Matthias’s back. Matthias toppled and landed face-first into the mud.
Fight over.
She leaped over to Klaus and hugged him hard. “We did it! He won!”
Klaus hugged her back. “Still not exactly sure what we did, but you’re happy, so that makes me happy.”
“Silly brute.” She pulled away from him to enjoy her victory.
The crowd had gone wild. Hands slammed on thighs, and fists pummeled the wooden fence as everyone chanted, “Vlad, Vlad, Vlad!”
Vlad burst into hysterical laughter. He wiped his ruined nose and blinked at his adoring audience. Vlad, the scrawny, dirty kid who’d whipped Matthias’s butt, would walk away with a title and a pouch filled with coin. If he were smart, he’d eat for a month from tonight’s fight.
She had her own winnings to collect. Winnings that offered a brand-new life she could almost taste. With all the bets on the table forfeited, all she had to worry about was the blue-eyed stranger—and his two fabulous silver coins.
The rules said that she split the winnings down the middle with him.
The rules be tossed! She was leaving Askavol, so it no longer mattered what she did as long as she and Klaus escaped.
Her gaze ran up the stranger with the inky-colored hair, crushing blue eyes, and fancy clothing. Just his silver ring with its fancy sigil could have fed her and Klaus indefinitely. He’d likely never been hungry in his life. He could afford to sponsor her and Klaus’s escape. And then some.
She tossed her braid over her shoulder and sauntered back to the betting table. Pointedly ignoring Blue Eyes, she fluttered her thick lashes at Ivan. “Look at how fat my pockets are about to become.” She placed her hands on either side of the coins, daring anyone to touch them. “But don’t worry, Ivan. I’ll be thinking of you tonight … while I count my money.”
Ivan glowered. Klaus laughed; a wild and relieved sound, it filled her with joy.
“Not so fast, pit princess.”
Her gut wrenched.
Hands still in his pockets, the stranger watched her through piercing eyes. The rest of his brutally sculpted face was equally as challenging. “Half of this money is mine.”
Klaus stilled. His hands clamped on her arm.
Uh … of course. She needed a plan.
It helped that she had the upper hand here. Yes, Blue Eyes was undoubtedly bigger than her. And his well-fed body, with its taut, lean muscles showing through his stupidly expensive clothing, was menacing.
Not to mention the black ink that swirled on the sun-kissed skin beneath his sleeves and collar.
His power to intimidate showed in Klaus trembling behind her, and Ivan’s circle of friends all backing off to watch the encounter from a safe distance.
But he also wasn’t from these parts; that much was obvious. Maybe not even from the Kingdom of Atria. Blue Eyes knew nothing about her.
Also, he was farther away from the table, and thus at a less advantageous angle. She had a clear route to the exit.
And she needed that money more than he possibly could. None of the people here would betray her if she stole a coin from him. That wasn’t how the pits worked. They may have fought and wagered against each other like ravening fae, but when it came to them versus the spoiled rich, they had each other’s back.
Always.
And if it came down to it, she had her schorl knife strapped to her belt.
The only thing that could slow them down was Klaus’s bad leg. She’d have to carry him. If he caught them.…
How could she refuse such an opportunity?
Time to go for broke.
She dug her boots into the mud to stop her knees from shaking and forced a smug smile. “Of course it is, my lord. Let’s divide it, shall we?” She lowered her stance—a predator on the prowl—and picked up a shining silver coin. Now, like a traveling magician, she ran it from finger to finger. “One silver coin.” At least her hands weren’t shaking. Well, not too badly.
Holding the coin high so Blue Eyes couldn’t mistake it, she snatched up the second coin and slid it into her tunic. The cold metal stung as it scraped against her warm amber pendant hidden under her clothes. “Two silver coins.”
Ivan and all his buddies’ eyes followed the coin down her cleavage.
Blue Eyes didn’t.
She held her breath and flipped the second coin into the air. As it sailed up, all eyes on it, she swiped her hand across the tabletop. The pile of irons shot off the table and landed in the mud—her gift to Blue Eyes.
A thrill ran up her spine as his eyes met hers just as the second silver coin landed on her open palm. This heist was going to work. Laughing against her pounding heart, she flipped the table into the mud as well.
Blue Eyes stumbled back to avoid the spray.
She had about five seconds to make her getaway.
“Don’t argue,” she yelled at Klaus as she dragged him across her shoulder.
“Really, Stasha?” Klaus protested, but he still clung to her like a tick on a dog.
She thrust through the crowd, shoving and pushing until they burst through the wooden archway into the ancient pine forest surrounding the pit. She didn’t stop to check if Blue Eyes followed.
Under her weight and Klaus’s, her breath rasped, and her chest ached. She slithered across ankle-deep wet pine needles. The two silver coins jingled as she jumped ditches of half-frozen muddy water and mossy fallen branches sprinkled with frost.
If Blue Eyes caught her and reported her to the Kňazer, it would be a week of solitary confinement in lockup, at least. That punishment would be followed by a fate that would make lockup seem as sweet as honey cake.
He would have to catch her first.
The sounds of the fighting pits fell away and then faded to nothing. The icy
rain abated too, leaving swirling mist in its wake. Dusk had fallen. All the better for hiding. Still carrying Klaus, Stasha slowed to a trot and then a walk.
Klaus slipped off her shoulder and stumbled to stand in the slick pine needles.
Breathing hard, she rubbed a painful stitch in her side. Aided by cold starlight, she stumbled through the mist to a fallen tree. It had probably broken in one of the many earth tremors that had wracked the district since that terrible night in Teagarta when she’d lost Tarik. They could sit for a minute, just to let Klaus regain his strength. Resting wouldn’t hurt her either. And then she would tell him everything.
“Are you crazy?” Klaus hissed.
She smirked. “No. Just rich.” The last thing she wanted was for him to worry. Not with the news she had to impart.
“Rich and dead.” Klaus sat on the log next to her. His knee bounced like a leaf in a breeze.
“Seriously, Klaus, can you shake any more?” she joked. “We haven’t had an earth tremor in at least three days, and I’m sure we could use one.”
Once, she’d thought that if it hadn’t been for Klaus’s lame leg, he should have enlisted as a fighter in the pits to toughen him up. But after a lifetime of friendship, she no longer believed his peaceful nature could be changed. Gentle kindness was in his bones, as much as stubbornness and trickery were in her blood.
Unfixable.
Although the Kňazer and Martka had certainly tried. They hated that Klaus was the light to her darkness. She would not change that for all the silver coins in the world.
Klaus looked at her owlishly. “I’m serious, Stasha. He could report you to the Kňazer. You’re already on thin ice with them. And if he does, you’ll spend days in lockup.”
Lockup: a dark, dank room little bigger than a cubbyhole, furnished with hay that reeked of mildew and horse manure. She’d be offered no food and very little water for as long as she remained there, forced to fast until the Kňazer deigned to forgive.
“Lockup is nothing compared to what’s coming.” She jumped up and looked at him through the drifting mist. “I was called into Martka Alonya’s study today.”
Klaus’s face darkened “Of course. Your birthday.” He bit his lip, then moaned. “What are they planning for you?”
She kicked the tree. “The same as everyone else. Marriage or acolyte.”
“Marriage? Who?” Klaus demanded, voice hard.
“Some stranger she’s dragged out of a swamp, I assume.” She started walking through the forest. “We have to leave. Hence my bet.”
Klaus lumbered to his feet. “I’ve no problem with that, but the practicalities—” He stumbled on his injured leg to match her pace.
She stopped to let him catch up. Her fault. She’d done this to him.
How could she take him on this crazy escape?
But, equally, how could she leave him when all that waited for him on his eighteenth birthday was more slavery in the mill? A mill that would see him in an early grave.
She stood tall and stared him down, daring him to defy her with his “practicalities.”
As usual, he did just that.
“What about the fae? We’re bound to run into their patrols.” Face bleak, he fingered the schorl blade hanging off his belt
“I hope one of those animals attack,” she gritted out. “I’ll stick my blade right into its heart.”
After Tarik’s murder, they had both saved for months to buy schorl blades. She was just itching for a chance to use hers.
Klaus snorted. “Nice sentiment. You’re human. They’re … something else.”
A shiver ran up her spine, colder than the frost clinging to the trees. “We’re going to Ruepa.”
Klaus barked a humorless laugh. “You want to risk fae attacks and head north with winter coming? We have no coats or food. And don’t deny it; your boots have holes in them. You’ll have frostbite within a week.” Despite the cloying mist, sweat pricked on his temples.
She had no time to coddle him.
“Hence my fabulous victory tonight. We have two silver coins. They’ll give us everything we need.” She flashed him a grin. “I could get those red boots I saw in the shop window. They really are gorgeous.”
“Practical boots, Stasha, not—” His head cocked. Listening.
She froze.
A twig cracked, the sound muffled in the mist.
It could have been anything. Or it could have been Blue Eyes. Her heart thudded so loudly, she was sure Klaus could hear it.
She grabbed his hand and whispered, “Move your butt before he finds us.”
She scurried with him across the pine needles. There were two possible routes home. The Eastern Road was quicker but infinitely more exposed than the other—a secluded path through dense forest. Trouble was, the little-used track took them past Teagarta, another place she’d sworn a year before never to visit again.
She could defend Klaus, her two silver coins, and herself against the usual vagrants and thieves that looked for easy pickings on the Eastern Road.
Blue Eyes was another matter altogether.
Being a stranger, he was unlikely to know about the Teagarta track. Even if he did, it would be easier to shake him off if they took that long-abandoned route.
Teeth gritted, she veered off toward the ruined town.
Klaus scowled. She couldn’t blame him. Not when they were so close to a place of such savagery and pointless destruction.
The place where Tarik had died at the hands of fae.
They crept through the trees in silence, her ears keyed to sounds of pursuit.
Nothing.
At last, through the frosty mist, a broken cobbled road loomed at the edge of the forest. It had been busy once. But a year on from the massacre, it was overgrown with brambles and snakeweed.
No one came here now. Not unless they had to. Some out of fear of the fae, others out of respect for the many who’d been lost. Whatever their reasons, the world had abandoned the once proud town of Teagarta in the heart of the Kingdom of Atria.
A cold wind swept past them. It carried the scent of rain, frost, ashes….
And death.
How many storms had there been since the massacre? Yet none had been cleansing enough to wash the smell of broken bodies from the fire-blackened stone. No doubt, the storms had also failed to fade the casually carved firebird crest the fae had left on a marble boulder at the far edge of town … a crest that claimed their kill with pride.
Her calloused fingers scraped a thick, ugly white scar that crossed her palm. She had ripped it open trying to tear that crimson-marble boulder off—
“Stasha. This is a bad idea.” Klaus slowed, his limp deepening. “We shouldn’t be here. Let’s go back and take the Eastern Road.” Washed with worry, his eyes flickered to her icy face. “Anything could be lurking in these woods. In the ruins. Watching us.”
He was right. She’d made a mistake in coming here. An exceptionally stupid one. She wanted to curse at herself, but the effort of speaking was too much. Her shoulders hunched, and she hugged herself for comfort.
If something sinister indeed lurked here and Klaus was harmed, she would never forgive herself.
Just as she would never forgive the sacking of Teagarta.
She stumbled on a loose stone. Crimson marble streaked with gold lines and pumpkin-colored flecks glinted in the starlight breaking through the mist. The marble had once been part of the beautiful onion dome that had roofed the town hall. In a world where everything else was constructed of pine and drab gray stone, Teagarta was the only truly beautiful place she’d ever seen, even if green moss had stuck to the shingles, the color stark against the brilliant red and orange domes.
She had blanked out Teagarta. All she could remember of that terrible morning was finding Tarik. And after she’d found him.…
She hadn’t cared enough to look at the dome. She hadn’t cared about anything.
Now she looked. And looked. Her chest squeezed painfully,
and she swallowed the burning lump in her throat.
The front of the once lovely town hall had been ripped away as if the giant marble blocks had been mere pebbles. Those boulders were strewn on the ground, moss and mushrooms creeping up the sides. The marble was no longer beautiful. Now, it reminded her of blood. The grand door, exploded off its hinges by fae, lay in splinters across the overgrown town square.
The inside of the building was worse. One broken wall, which had survived the attack and earth tremors, was stained black with soot. Lengths of charcoal, all that remained of the wooden rafters from the vaulted roof, littered the broken flagstones, where rosewood benches had once stood. The stained-glass window was gone, and in its place a dark maw devoid of beauty.
Her favorite shop across the street—one that had once sold delicious pastries—was nothing more than crumbling foundations. Fire had scorched the bricks, just like every other home and business in the town.
Fae had done this.
Pyreack soldiers invading Atria. Locked between the coast and the land to the south claimed by the Kingdom of Zephyr, Atria crawled with both humanoid fae with their hideous pointed ears, and monstrous faeries, creatures born of nightmares and terror.
After the centuries-long war between the four fae kingdoms, the king of Pyreack seemed to be winning—if Teagarta was anything to judge by. Not that she cared about fae victories and defeats, not when staying alive from day-to-day took all her energy.
Klaus’s hand brushed against hers.
She’d stopped walking. They weren’t far from the spot that used to house the fighting pit. She cleared her throat and forced her stiff legs to move toward the marble boulder that had crushed Tarik’s torso. Tossed so carelessly by the all-powerful fae, it still lay on the side of the road where Tarik had died.
Shoulders pulled back, she kept her neck taut. It was the only way she could stop her head from turning, unbidden, to look at it.
Would his blood still stain the boulder?
Klaus whimpered beside her. He’d looked.
She wrapped her scarred hand tightly around his. They had both lost someone that day, not just her. Sometimes, she allowed herself to forget that.
That didn’t mean she could speak. Neither of them could, she knew. But she could give him this, at least. His trembling fingers steadied as they wound through hers. She held on tightly. No matter what the Martka and Kňazer said when they arrived back at the orphanage, she would never let go of Klaus.
The Fire Thief Page 2