The Shadow Thieves

by Alexandra Ott

  More and more people troop in through the back door, while a few pass Ivo to enter from the front. The stairs overhead shake as several people thud down—the voices Beck and I heard from the third-floor room, most likely. A few seconds later, a small pack of people enters. Among them is Mead, instantly recognizable as he towers over everyone else, and a few of the others look familiar. . . .

  Peakes. One of them is Peakes, Rosalia’s little brother.

  He looks gaunt and tired, with deep lines under his eyes, and I’d forgotten just how young he is. He was always the baby of the group we hung out with at the Guild, the one who got teased the most, the only one who hadn’t had his trial yet. And as much as I loathe sharing any sentiment whatsoever with Rosalia, I can understand why she’s worried about him. Seeing Peakes in this room is like seeing a scared puppy in a pack of wolves.

  Mead looks around, and his pale eyes land on me. He gives me a single nod in acknowledgment before moving on, joining some of the other guys by the kitchen. He keeps scanning the room, though, when he thinks no one’s looking. Probably wondering where Beck is.

  After a few more minutes, the woman who lives here comes in, flanked by Ivo, and the conversations die down as she settles into the same white wicker chair she used before. Something about the way she sits in it, with her back straight and her skirts draping elegantly around her, makes her look regal somehow, like a queen on a throne.

  I expect Keene to step forward and start the meeting just like he did last time, so I almost miss it when the woman starts speaking first. An immediate hush falls over the room.

  “I called you all here today,” she says, her gaze moving from one face to the next in the crowd, “to discuss the moment that we have all been waiting for. The downfall of the king.”

  Several jeers and hoots rise up as an excited ripple passes through the room. The woman allows it for a moment before raising her hand. Silence falls almost instantly, and she continues. “Thanks to all of your contributions, our plans have been set into motion. The time has come to bring those plans to fruition. But we cannot celebrate yet. There is still work to be done. This plan requires all of us working in tandem, for the final and most important assignment of all.”

  The room is so hushed that I can hear the crackle of the fireplace and the creaks of the floorboards shifting.

  “Most of you are still keeping up appearances within the Guild, as we have asked you to do. Many of you may have received a summons to a meeting with the king this very day.”

  Must be the same meeting Beck and Rosalia are going to. But if some of these people will be there . . . how can Beck tell the king anything about the Shadows with them right there in the room? It won’t be safe. And how can the king not know that these people are traitors?

  “We have reason to believe that this meeting regards an attempted burglary at the Night Market.”

  Another murmur ripples through the crowd.

  “The king is attempting one of the biggest heists in the Guild’s history, and will assemble many of its members tonight to organize and plan it. But do not be fooled. The timing of this theft is no coincidence. The king has learned that certain market vendors have been aiding us, and he is attempting to disrupt their influence. He hopes to buy your loyalty, to quell the protests and dissent with mere gold. He hopes to distract you with the promise of riches, all while putting down any who dare to oppose him and letting his corruption and betrayal go unnoticed and unchallenged.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about now. Did all those little grievances the Shadows complained about really amount to “corruption and betrayal”? But the other people in the crowd seem to be following along—there are nods, whispers, murmurs of assent.

  “So I have called you here to ask you this: Will you fall for the king’s ploys and allow your loyalty to be bought? Or will you join us in using the king’s own heist to take him down?”

  The room explodes in cheers and shouts. I can’t make out individual words over the clamor, but most people look excited, even fervent. I catch Mead’s gaze across the room. He’s applauding, lazily, but there’s something on his face that doesn’t quite look like agreement. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was concern.

  The woman lets the cheering continue for a moment before holding up her hand again. Silence falls as everyone waits to hear what she’ll say next.

  “To that end, I think it’s time to introduce you to the master thief of the Shadow Guild, the man who helped bring my vision to life. We have kept his role within the Shadows a secret so as to protect him from rumors within the Guild, but now that it is time to put our plan into action, you must all know his true identity.”

  A figure steps forward. The man with the hat tipped low over his face reaches the center of the room, stops, and lifts the hat from his head.

  Gasps rise up across the room, and one of them is mine.

  I know him.

  It takes me a second to remember his name, but then I do: Garil Gannon.

  The man from the silk cart in the marketplace that I searched for the coin.

  The one who gave me directions to Ronan’s law office, who knew right away where it was.

  Maybe he just knew it because Avinoch’s is a prominent law office, like Mead told me before. Or maybe he’s the one who put Ronan’s name on that list.

  And he probably knows that I ransacked his cart and stole his coin pouch.

  I slink back into my corner, willing him not to see me. He might recognize me from our conversation and suspect that I searched his cart. I can’t even think what might happen if—

  “Good afternoon,” he says, smiling. Like the woman, he casts his gaze from one face in the crowd to the next, but where it made her seem calculating and guarded, on him it’s practically charming. There’s something so innocent and disarming about that smile, the same something that fooled me back in the marketplace. I never suspected he was anything other than a silk seller, even when I was searching his cart for the coin, and even when he gave me perfect directions to Ronan’s office. I never believed he was dangerous.

  But right now, standing in a crowd of thieves and winning their trust with a single smile, he may be one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met.

  “Thank you for the introduction, Leta,” he says to the woman, snapping me out of the spiral of my thoughts. Leta. It’s the first time the woman has been given a name. I’ll have to tell Beck.

  And I’ll have to tell Beck that the king was right to suspect the silk vendor, because apparently he’s the ringleader of the Shadows.

  “I know most of you already, I believe,” he continues, nodding to different faces in the crowd. “I have been watching many of you for months, and I have been quite pleased with your work on behalf of our organization. Together we can bring an end to Kerick’s tyranny once and for all. And we will do it at the very heist that he hopes will bring him glory.”

  He smiles again, and they’re falling for it, they’re all falling for it—the faces in the crowd look nothing but charmed.

  “I believe I now have an accurate idea of your strengths and weaknesses individually, and I will be assigning each of you a task for tonight’s events. Some of you I will ask to meet me later, so that we may discuss your role in more detail.”

  He turns to Keene and starts rattling off instructions. There are so many names and words I don’t recognize that I can barely follow, but Keene is nodding, looking determined. Gannon mentions entrances, positioning, something about a north-side wall . . .

  Then Gannon starts talking to other people, making his way around the room and addressing them in turn. Most people receive simple instructions—be at a certain place at a certain time, or follow so-and-so’s lead. After he finishes speaking with each person, they leave the room.

  The crowd’s nearly cleared out by the time Gannon turns his gaze to where I and a few other new people are sitting. Oh, Saint Ailara, don’t let him recognize me . . .

  “Ah,
the new recruits,” he says, giving me a grin as slick as ice. “Each of you has been previously assigned to someone who’s been showing you the ropes, I believe?”

  We nod.

  “Very good. Each of you will report to that person for further instructions on how you can assist them.”

  We nod again, and he turns away, clearly dismissing us. The other two beside me walk toward the back door, and I scramble to my feet, intending to head to the front to find Beck. But Gannon turns, and his gaze latches onto me. My stomach drops through the floor.

  He knows. He knows.

  “Miss Rosco,” he says quietly, “stay a moment.”

  I’m frozen. I try not to glare at him, not wanting to make this any worse, but I can’t seem to resist the impulse.

  Gannon steps closer, directly in front of me. He towers over my head and has to bend lower to look into my eyes.

  “I recognized you right away in the marketplace,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “As soon as you mentioned having a brother who worked at Avinoch’s, I could see the resemblance. You can imagine my surprise at finding Ronan Rosco’s baby sister again at our last meeting, as a member of the Guild. And I’m sure you can imagine how much more surprised I was to learn, afterward, that you aren’t a Guild member at all.”

  A shudder runs up and down my spine, and I clench my teeth, willing myself not to let him see my fear.

  “Captured during your trial. Imprisoned for several months. Reunited with your long-lost brother, the lawyer’s apprentice at Avinoch and Co. And yet here you are, among the Guild members, as if you’re one of them.”

  “I can explain,” I say quickly.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can. No doubt you’ve concocted an elaborate lie. But I think you’ll find I’m not easily lied to.”

  He turns away from me abruptly and looks toward the door, where Ivo is watching dispassionately. “Bring him in,” Gannon says. Ivo straightens and shoulders through the door toward the front hallway.

  Before I can figure out what’s happening, Gannon turns back to me. “I know all about your little scheme, you see. You and Beck Reigler, spying on our meetings, hunting through the house, trying to discover our secrets, reporting back to the king. What did you think—that you could somehow save your brother from me and my Shadows?”

  A thousand thoughts are churning through my head, and I don’t know what to do. I want to punch him. I want to fight. I want to run. My feet move before my mind catches up—

  Gannon slams his hand against the wall between me and the door, barring my escape. “Don’t think you’ll be getting very far, Miss Rosco. I know your brother, Ronan, quite well, you see. Such a smart, well-mannered young man. It would be a pity if anything unfortunate were to happen to him.”

  Ice slides down my spine, even as the heat of my anger surges through my blood. My fists clench. “Don’t you dare,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes. “He has nothing to do with this. Don’t you dare—”

  “Not to mention,” Gannon continues as if I haven’t spoken, “I can think of someone else you might care about.” He looks toward the door again. “Ivo!”

  The door swings open, and Ivo walks in, dragging a struggling figure behind him.

  Beck.

  He fights against Ivo’s hold, pulling away, but his hands are bound behind his back, and Ivo’s grip is too strong.

  I don’t know what to do. I can’t overpower Ivo by myself, not to mention Gannon. I scan the room, looking for help, a way out, someone who might—

  Mead is still in the room. He stands in front of the fireplace, watching everything, completely unmoved. His face is a blank mask.

  And instantly I know what happened.

  “How could you?” I lunge forward before I can think. “How could you—”

  Gannon grabs my coat and tugs me backward, away from Mead, as if I’m a disobedient dog on a leash.

  “The Guild was on to me,” Mead says, his voice infuriatingly calm. “They recognized me that night at the market, you know. Dryn and Kierr. They put two and two together and reported me to the king. Gannon managed to get me out safely before they had a chance to capture me. I would have been killed.”

  “I always look out for my Shadows,” Gannon says, smug. “But I still had to be convinced, you see, that Mr. Mead here really was one of ours. There had been some . . . questions about his loyalty here as well. But Mead was quite eager to prove his worth. When I told him of my suspicions about you and your connection to his friend Mr. Reigler, he was all too willing to share what he knew of your plans.”

  So Gannon let us come here today, knowing we’d be trapped.

  How long did it take Mead to spill his guts to Gannon? How much convincing did he need? Did his friendship with Beck mean so little that he tossed it aside when it suited him? Or did Gannon coerce him?

  Mead looks at me with those familiar colorless eyes, and I don’t know the truth about anything anymore.

  Gannon spins me around to face him again before releasing his hold on my coat. “So you see, Miss Rosco, I’m afraid your little game has come to an end now. But not to worry—I’m sure you’ll be reunited with your brother very soon.”

  Beck hangs limply from Ivo’s arms, not moving. Defeated.

  I have to do something, I have to—

  “But until then, we can’t risk letting you interfere with our plans.” Gannon turns to Ivo. “Take that one to the basement. I’ll handle the girl myself.”

  Beck looks up. Our eyes lock, and I am seeing two moments simultaneously—Beck, captured by guards last spring in the Dearborn gardens, pinned to the ground, and Beck, now, mere feet away from me. And both of them are mouthing the same word.

  Run.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I don’t think. I just move.

  I spin out of Gannon’s hold, stumbling backward. He lunges after me, but I grab a small chair leaning against the wall and swing it around, using it as a barrier between us. Beside me, Beck struggles in Ivo’s grip, keeping him busy. I don’t see the woman, Leta, anywhere, but Gannon is flanked by Keene and another thief, and Mead is still standing by the fireplace.

  Gannon makes another lunge in my direction, but I swipe at him with the chair, and he’s forced to dodge it. I back up on instinct, but it’s the wrong move. I’m against the wall. Ivo blocks the path to the front. The only way out is through the back, but there are multiple pieces of furniture blocking the way. I’m boxed in.

  “Where do you think you’re going to go, little Rosco?” says Gannon, almost politely. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a long, shiny knife. “I had hoped it wouldn’t have to be this way. But don’t worry; I’ll be sure to pay a visit to your brother to let him know what happened to you.”

  I inch sideways, gripping the edges of the chair as tightly as I can, trying to dodge the furniture lining the walls. If I can just reach the back door . . . “I appreciate the thought,” I say, “but I think I’d rather tell him myself.”

  Keene tries to move in on my left, but I shove the chair legs into his chest. It doesn’t do much more than knock him off balance for a second, but I use the distraction to run to the other side of the room. The fireplace is now to my immediate left, with the back door somewhere behind me. Just a few more steps . . .

  “Have it your way,” Gannon responds, his smile now menacing. “After I hunt you down, I’ll do the same to your brother.”

  I’m close, but not close enough. Even if I sprint to the door, I’ll never make it out before Gannon or the other thieves grab me. I need something to distract them while I run for it—

  Mead moves calmly away from the fireplace, toward the far wall. He turns, meeting my gaze, and tilts his head slowly, deliberately, in the direction of the fireplace.

  What is this? More of his games? An attempt to trick me or distract me or—

  He places one hand on the back of the small table nearest to him. A table similar to the one behind me. He taps his index finger agains
t the lacy decorative cloth that covers the table, just like the one behind me. Then he tilts his head toward the fire again.

  My eyes widen in a flash of understanding.

  Gannon sighs. “As fun as this little chase has been, I have other things to attend. It’s time to end this.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” I say. Then I reach back, snatch up the tablecloth, and hurl one end of it into the burning fire.

  The cloth catches quickly, and I spin around, letting it fan out and fling sparks in every direction. Fire licks rapidly up the length of the cloth, warming my hands, but I don’t dare let go. The thief whose name I don’t know backs up and stumbles into Keene. I lunge toward Gannon, forcing him to back away from the flames. I reverse several steps, putting a few feet between us, with the exit right behind me.

  Then I throw the fiery fabric toward Gannon with all of my might.

  I don’t stop to see what happens next. I spin around and make a break for the back door, throw it open, and run out into the cold.

  A light snow is falling as I rush out the back alley, past a group of startled thieves who are loitering there, and dash down the street as fast as I can. The wind whips snow into my face, and I can barely see where I’m going. I tear through the streets in no particular direction, as long as it puts 218 South Astian far behind me.

  When I run out of breath, I slow to a halt, skid, and collapse into the snow. I gasp for air, my teeth chattering.

  I’m not going to think about the fact that I just left Beck alone with the Shadows in a room that may have been set on fire. They’ll probably put it out before it spreads, and if not, I’m sure they’ll get out of there fast and take Beck with them. Unless they decide to punish both of us by letting him burn alive . . .

  No. I can’t think about that right now. I need to focus. One step at a time. I’ll go back for Beck. I’ll save him. But first I need to warn Ronan.