Dance of Thieves

by Mary E. Pearson

  “This?” I spun the ring on my finger. “Why?”

  “You think it’s wise to wear something you stole from the king? Especially when we want him in a congenial mood toward us when he receives the proposal.”

  “What are you talking about? I already told you, I got this fairly.” I explained about the merchant who gave it to me in return for a riddle.

  Jase corked his water skin and lay down on the shady patch of grass beside the spring. He folded his hands behind his head. “My mistake. Garvin told me he thought you had nicked something from the king and I assumed—”

  “Well, actually … I did,” I admitted and sat down beside him, “but it was only a piece of paper with a name on it, maybe a pig-iron dealer. I think Paxton may have given it to him. Devereux something.”

  Jase turned his head like he didn’t hear me correctly. “What?”

  “Devereux seventy-two. That’s all it said.”

  He sat up. “Devereux? You’re sure?”

  “Why? Do you know him?”

  And that was when he told me about Zane. Everything about Zane. That he’d been a Ballenger employee. About the setup and Gunner bringing me to the fountain to see if Zane recognized me. About the interrogation that followed. That was how Gunner was able to bring him out to me so fast that night. They had been holding him prisoner in the warehouse.

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you right away, Kazi. I was trying to find the right words and timing once I knew for sure he was the same man you described. I was afraid I’d lose you if you knew he’d been our employee.”

  It took me a minute to absorb this revelation—an employee but now their prisoner. He would still be at Tor’s Watch when we got there.

  “You’re sure Zane said the man who gave him money was named Devereux too?” I finally asked.

  Jase nodded.

  We discussed what this might mean. Was the man who gave Zane money for labor hunters the same man named on the king’s slip of paper—the paper Paxton may have given to him? Just who did Devereux work for? These past weeks someone had been campaigning to oust the Ballengers. There were five leagues who’d had run-ins with Jase’s family over the years, all of them hungry for control of Hell’s Mouth and the very profitable arena. Devereux likely worked for one of them, and now the finger was pointing at Paxton.

  “Maybe Devereux is Paxton’s new hawker by day,” Jase wondered aloud, “and by night he’s taking care of another kind of business.”

  “What about the king?” I asked. “I did find the note on him. Could Devereux be his man?”

  Jase frowned. “Not the king I know. I think Montegue would wet himself if he ever ran into someone who frequents dark alleys, never mind have the guts to hire him. And for what? He doesn’t head a league. He’s a farmer. He has no stake in this game.”

  And then we both wondered about Beaufort. Was it possible he had been working with one of the leagues? Having them undermine the Ballenger’s foothold in town in return for a piece of the pie? Was Zane their go-between? Or was the scheming unrelated? One conspiring faction? Or two separate ones? Paxton’s threat to me resurfaced, Crossing the wrong person can get you into more trouble than you bargained for. Watch your step.

  Jase shook his head, thinking. I knew it burned in him that he wasn’t home. “Last time I was away, Gunner managed everything well,” he finally said. “He will this time too. And we still have Zane in custody. My family won’t let him go. We’ll get more answers out of him when we get back.” He squeezed my hand. “And we’ll get your answers too, Kazi. That comes first. I’m sorry for what Gunner did.”

  I glanced down, remembering Gunner’s taunts. “Emotions were strung tight, and he was afraid for you,” I replied, trying to understand, but Gunner’s cruelty was still a raw wound inside me. He dangled Zane in front of me like food to a starving animal, then snatched him away. I’d been worried about the family forgiving me, but now I wondered if I would ever be able to forgive Gunner. We’ll get your answers too. The thought chilled me. What if I was wrong? What if my mother wasn’t dead? What if Death had tricked me?

  Jase looked at me, his eyes dark with concern.

  I blew out a long, cleansing breath. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out,” I said, “but this time there will be no secrets between us, and we’ll be working on the same side.”

  He smiled. “The Ballenger odds have just doubled.” He nudged my shoulder until I was lying back on the grass, and he kissed my cheek. “Before I forget, I still owe you something.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “The riddle I promised you. The good one. It took me a while. Turns out it’s not that easy to find the right words.” He lifted my hand, kissing my fingertips as if he cherished each one. “But sometimes you need to say what is in your heart while you can, because you might not get a chance later. Every word is as true as I can make it, Kazi, so I may as well tell you now.”

  He pulled his shirt loose from his trousers.

  “Jase,” I said. “Just what are you—”

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “Wait.” He took my hand and slipped it beneath the fabric, pressing it flat to his chest. His skin was hot under my palm, and I felt the light beat of his heart beneath my fingers. “Ready?” he asked. “Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat myself, Ambassador Brightmist.”

  I smiled. “Don’t worry, Patrei. I’m a good listener.” He began, still pressing my hand to his chest.

  “I have no mouth, but my hunger is fed,

  With glimpse, and touch, and kindness said.

  I have no eyes, but see a soul,

  The only one that makes me whole.

  I swell beneath a soldier’s palm,

  Its touch my breath, my blood, my calm.

  I am utterly lost, but completely found,

  Captured, taken … a prisoner bound.”

  My throat ached. I knew the answer, but I played the game. “A key? The wind? A map?” His lips brushed mine between each wrong guess.

  “It may take me a while to figure this out,” I said.

  His mouth was warm against mine, his tongue gentle, his hands curling through my hair. “Take as long as you like.”

  We were in no hurry.

  We were alone, we had each other, and we had a whole wilderness ahead of us.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The bird was dead. He’d seen it fall from the sky. A dozen arrows had followed its flight. One had found its mark in the bird’s breast. He scooped it up with his bony fingers and cradled the bird. Its neck was broken, and its head fell back in an elegant swoon over his arm. He already knew what the note attached to its leg said. He’d stood behind Jalaine as she wrote it.

  Jase, Kazi, anyone,

  Come! Please! Samuel is dead.

  They’re banging the door.

  I have to—

  He’d known she wouldn’t have time to finish the note. She had barely had time to release the bird. He looked down to where the arrow pierced its stained breast. He gripped the shaft and pulled it from the bird. A spray of downy white feathers floated to the ground. He didn’t know if it would help, but he had promised Jalaine, and he always kept his promises. He lifted the bird to his mouth and whispered against the feathers. Not yet. Not today, then threw the bird into the air.

  Its wings snapped taut, catching the current, and it flew away from Tor’s Watch.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am so thankful to the enormously talented team at Macmillan and Henry Holt: Jean Feiwel, Laura Godwin, Angus Killick, Jon Yaged, Christian Trimmer, Morgan Dubin, Brittany Pearlman, Ashley Woodfolk, Teresa Ferraiolo, Allison Verost, Lucy Del Priore, Katie Halata, Mariel Dawson, Robby Brown, Molly Ellis, Jennifer Gonzalez, Claire Taylor, Jennifer Edwards, Jess Brigman, Mark Von Bargen, Sofrina Hinton, and the army of you who work behind the scenes—from advertising to marketing, to sales and publicity, to hand-selling at every stage of the process—you make book magic happen. Without you, Dance of Thieves wouldn’t
exist, and I am grateful to all of you.

  Additional accolades to Starr Baer, Ana Deboo, and Rachel Murray for careful and multiple reads and expert advice. Rachel, also extra thanks for all the hats you wear—you keep the wheels turning.

  I am forever indebted and grateful to my extremely talented editor, Kate Farrell. She is so very smart, patient, always there with a listening ear, and offers up boatloads of wisdom at every turn. She is a rare gem, and I’m one lucky writer to have her.

  Thanks and hugs to Caitlin Sweeny, who championed this book from the beginning and continued to support it from afar and offered the very first “review,” which meant the world to me.

  Keith Thompson, map artist extraordinaire, worked his magic again. I am such a map geek, and I may have squealed when I found out he was creating a new map for Dance of Thieves. He brought the Remnant world and now Jase and Kazi’s world alive with positive brilliance.

  I am always surprised by the breadth of talent of Rich Deas. The Dance of Thieves cover is perhaps one of the prettiest covers I have ever seen, and with wings and swords and thannis vine, he infuses meaning and beauty into his art. The cover is everything I could have hoped for and more. Thank you, Rich. Many thanks also to Becca Syracuse, who worked on the design details and made the whole book come together in a stunning way.

  I can never sing enough praises for my hardworking, wise, hand-holding, and smart agent, Rosemary Stimola. She is the whole pie with a big dollop of ice cream on top. Thank you to Ro and the Studio crew, Debra, Pete, Adriana, Allison, and Erica, for helping me navigate this wonderful but crazy business.

  A bouquet of gratitude to my foreign publishers, agents, and readers worldwide who embraced the Remnant world and jumped on this book at first whisper. I hope one day I can travel to all of your amazing countries and thank you personally!

  I am forever indebted to librarians, booksellers, tweeters, booktubers, bloggers, Instagrammers, and the many fans who have spread the word in innumerable and astonishing ways—from reviews to tweets, to fan art, to drop-dead gorgeous cover shots, to full-on cosplay, and even to candles celebrating the Dance of Thieves world. I am humbled and in awe of their talent and boundless enthusiasm, and grateful to be on this book journey with them.

  I will always be thankful for so many dedicated, generous, badass, in-the-trenches YA writers. Through all the stages and the highs and lows of what we do, they keep me grounded with my eye on the story, help stamp out plot fires and character mutinies, and offer support and writing advice. Their deep wells of creativity inspire me. Thank you to Marlene Perez, Melissa Wyatt, Alyson Noël, Jodi Meadows, Susan Dennard, Jill Rubalcaba, and additional thanks to Robin LaFevers, who happened to be writing a same-universe book at the same time and mused with me on the challenges these books present. Thanks also to Leigh Bardugo for sage advice and offering metaphors about meadows just when I needed it. I owe you a bouquet of flowers. And many thanks to Tobin Anderson, who commiserated on the corners we write ourselves into and offered resources and thoughts on riddles.

  My family is my rock and my joy. They keep my spinning thoughts in perspective and support me unfailingly. Thank you to Jessica, Dan, Karen, Ben, Ava, Emily, Leah, and sweet baby B, who will debut about the same time as this book. My heart is full.

  And of course, my deepest thanks to Dennis, my favorite thief, and the man who stole my heart. I have danced through life “chained” to this brilliant man, who has helped me see so much of the world in a new way and is always eager to see it through my eyes too. The day we met, our world doubled. He is the best partner in crime I could have asked for and always there for me whether he is bringing me a latté, a lunch, or a listening ear to help me untangle a plot knot. He makes the writing and the books happen.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mary E. Pearson is the author of many novels for teens, including the New York Times–bestselling Remnant Chronicles: The Kiss of Deception, The Heart of Betrayal, The Beauty of Darkness, and the acclaimed Jenna Fox Chronicles. She writes full-time from her home in Carlsbad, California. Visit her online at marypearson.com, or sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Text copyright © 2018 by Mary E. Pearson

  Map copyright © 2018 by Keith Thompson

  Henry Holt and Company, Publishers since 1866

  Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC

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  All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017957735

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  First hardcover edition 2018

  eBook edition August 2018

  eISBN 9781250159021

 

 

 
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