The Shadow Thieves

by Alexandra Ott

  “The mirror?”

  “It’s magic. Just trust me.”

  Ronan looks uncertain, but he nods. “I trust you.”

  He hides behind the stall, and I approach the mirror.

  The sign still hangs from the corner: MIRROR OF WISHES.

  What do I wish for?

  I could wish to save Beck. But Ronan’s here, and I have to worry about him too. What if I wish to save Beck, and do whatever the mirror shows me I should do, but then something bad happens to Ronan?

  The woman said that the mirror would show me consequences of the things that I wish for. But what if Ronan gets hurt during the fight with the Shadows, and it isn’t a consequence of me saving Beck, just something that’s going to happen regardless? Would the mirror still show me that? And even if it did, what good would it do? The woman said she only granted a single wish in the mirror, so I only get one try. Whatever it is that I wish for, I have to make sure it doesn’t endanger Ronan while also saving Beck.

  But how can I do both?

  It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself all along. How to help Beck and keep Ronan safe while still being part of Ronan’s life. How to get close to Ronan without driving him away. How to be the good thief Beck thinks I am and the good sister Ronan wants me to be.

  Maybe that’s the problem: I’ve been trying to choose. But that’s impossible. I can’t divide up parts of myself and cast aside the ones that I don’t always like. I can’t pretend that I was never a thief, that I was never Beck’s friend, that I don’t struggle to fit into my brother’s life. But despite all of that, I am still Ronan’s sister. I can make different choices than I made before, but the old Alli is still part of me. Old Alli and New Alli both exist at once.

  Both at once.

  I know what to wish for.

  I stare directly into the mirror, meeting the brown eyes of my own reflection, and whisper the words.

  “I wish to save both Beck and Ronan.”

  The mirror’s surface ripples.

  Gray fog swirls across the glass, moving in every direction simultaneously. As the fog solidifies, shadowy figures emerge, like a black-and-white sketch.

  I see a girl standing in front of a mirror.

  The girl turns. She walks across what looks like a cobbled street and approaches a small cart that bears no sign or hint of its purpose. The shadowy girl—me—crouches down behind it. A moment later she stands, holding something in her hand. The image morphs, the background fading as the girl and the object she’s holding grow larger and larger before me, until the object begins to take a shape. Some kind of square, with a small circle embedded in its center.

  A circle that might be a coin.

  The fog swirls again, shapes vanishing and reforming. A new scene emerges: dozens of figures, many of them fighting each other. One of them falls to the ground, then another. More figures enter the scene, and they’re all swirling past so quickly, I can’t really tell what’s happening or who anyone’s supposed to be.

  Abruptly something changes. Most of the figures stop moving. One stands alone in the center—a small form who looks like the girl from the previous image. She’s holding the square with the coin in it again, and she’s doing—something?

  Before I can figure it out, the picture is gone. The fog swirls. The shadows dance, rippling across the glass and vanishing.

  A heavy sinking feeling fills my chest, like a weight is settling between my ribs, but I’m not sure what it means.

  The mirror shows nothing but my own reflection once more.

  “Wait,” I say. “Can you show me that last bit again?”

  Nothing happens.

  “Oh, come on! This isn’t fair. I couldn’t tell what happened!”

  The mirror is unmoved.

  I sigh. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  I step away from the mirror, toward the stall where Ronan is hiding. There’s still no sign of the woman who was here before. If Mead was right about there being consequences for using the mirror, I’ll just have to worry about that—and whatever this weird weighty feeling in my chest is—later.

  “You can come out now,” I tell Ronan’s shadow.

  “What happened?” he asks, looking confused. “I just saw you staring at the mirror . . . ?”

  “No time to explain,” I say, “but I found out something important. We need to make a quick stop.”

  I lead the way across the street.

  A few stalls down from the mirror, the little cart where Mead stopped before still sits there, completely unassuming. I still don’t know who owns this cart or what its purpose is, but I know the vendor was helping the Shadows. I knew it the day Mead stopped here to sell something for them. I just didn’t realize how much this vendor is helping them.

  The King’s Coin is hidden here.

  I crouch down behind the cart, scanning its shelves, but they’re mostly empty. Of course the coin wouldn’t just be lying around in plain sight. But how am I supposed to find it? The mirror was way too vague about that part.

  “What are we looking for?” Ronan whispers, watching me scan the cart’s shelves.

  “A coin,” I say. “Not like ordinary money. Something unusual. Probably gold or silver.”

  “Let me guess. It’s magic?”

  “Um, probably.” I run my hands over the wooden surface of the shelves, but I don’t feel anything unusual. There has to be a hidden compartment or something, though. Gannon wouldn’t just leave it out in the open. He’d hide it carefully, someplace only he knew about, someplace—

  Someplace only members of the Guild could access it.

  I dig Rosalia’s Guild pendant out of my pocket. In the flickering blue light from the nearest lantern, its golden surface gleams.

  The pendant must be the key, but how?

  “Does it fit right there?” Ronan asks.

  I follow where he’s pointing. In one corner of the bottom shelf, mostly masked in shadows, an indentation is carved into the wood. An indentation that might match the pendant.

  I lean forward and press the pendant into the space. It fits perfectly.

  “Now what?” Ronan whispers, but I know what to do. It’s just like the wall that hides the entrance to the Guild in the mountains.

  I press the pendant in and give it a twist.

  The whole thing swivels around with a scrape, followed by a loud click.

  A little panel pops open, revealing a hidden space behind it.

  It’s too dark to tell what’s inside. There is a very big possibility that I’m about to stick my hand into a trap.

  But the mirror said the coin was here, so . . .

  I take a deep breath and reach carefully inside. My fingers close around something hard and smooth and cold.

  I pull the object out and examine it. It’s a solid square of thin glass, like a protective casing. And embedded inside is a single coin.

  It looks nothing like any coin I’ve ever seen. It’s brightly polished silver. A thin cord is looped through a small hole at the top, like someone used to wear it as a necklace. The design is hard to see in the dark, but it features a twisting snake, not unlike the one on the Guild pendant.

  And the snake is twisting around a crown.

  “This is it,” I say, hardly daring to breathe. “This is it!”

  Ronan looks like he wants to ask a thousand questions, but he doesn’t. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

  I tuck the Guild pendant and the glass-cased coin into the pocket of my coat; then I slide the little compartment closed and leave the cart exactly the way we found it.

  Not that it makes a difference if Gannon knows we were here. I’m going to get this coin to the king, and then it won’t matter. For the first time all night, I feel something like optimism. I have the coin now. The mirror was right. Maybe, just maybe, we can actually pull this off.

  “Let’s go get Beck,” I say. Without another word, we hurry down the street and into the depths of the market.

  W
e walk in silence for a couple of minutes without encountering anyone. We must be getting close to the Treasury—

  Footsteps. Ahead, up the path. I pull Ronan aside, and we hunker behind a nearby cart.

  The footsteps pass us, and I peek out. A pair of shadowy figures disappears into the darkness, heading in the same direction as the Treasury. I have no idea whether they’re with the king or with the Shadows, but either way, I think it means we’re running late.

  “Come on,” I say, “let’s hurry.”

  We creep along for a few more minutes, keeping the figures within sight. Sure enough, they lead us straight to the Treasury. The massive white tent is still intact, apparently not packed up yet, its sign swaying gently in the breeze.

  The two figures ahead of us don’t even hesitate before ducking inside.

  “Now what?” Ronan whispers, and I don’t respond because I don’t have an answer.

  Save the king, and you save Beck. That’s what Rosalia said. But how am I supposed to do that? I have the coin, but what do I do with it? The mirror wasn’t clear enough.

  If the king were to walk by, I could just hand it over to him, tell him what I know about the Shadows and their ambush, and let him take care of them, problem solved. But Saint Ailara and I both know I’m not that lucky. If the king came in person at all, he’d be in hiding somewhere. Either that, or we’re really late and the Shadows have already caught him.

  So what next? Storm inside the tent? Creep around and see if Beck happens to be nearby? Wait to see what happens? Maybe I could—

  Another set of footsteps, stomping up the street. Multiple sets.

  Ronan and I quickly duck behind a tent across from the Treasury, listening to what sounds like a whole group of people making their way up the path.

  “Wait here,” I whisper to Ronan. “I need to get closer and see who that is.”

  “Alli, wait—”

  I’m already gone, creeping up the side of the tent and peeking around the corner. Five or six cloaked figures are headed straight for the Treasury. I can’t make out any of their faces. Are they Shadows, or do they really work for Kerick? If they were sent by the king, I need to warn them. I need to—

  The tent beside me shudders, the fabric waving, and a shout rips through the still night air. A shout that belongs to Ronan.

  I tear back down the length of the tent, my boots pounding, and turn the corner—

  Keene has one arm wrapped around Ronan in a tight hold. His other hand clenches a knife. Its silvery blade gleams at my brother’s throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  No. “Let him go!” I shout, no longer caring who hears me. Maybe the king’s thieves will come help—

  “Don’t say one more word, Rosco,” Keene warns, tapping the flat side of the blade against Ronan’s chin. “Let me guess: This must be the famous brother. Oh, Gannon is going to be so pleased. You wouldn’t believe how long he’s been looking for the two of you.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Keene,” I say desperately. “We’re not here because of the Shadows. We don’t care about Guild business. We won’t be any trouble to you. Just let us go.”

  He laughs. “Nice try, little Rosco, but I find that a bit hard to believe. How about we all take a trip up to the Treasury to see what Gannon has to say about it? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  Keene drags Ronan toward the path, and I have no choice but to follow. Ronan’s eyes meet mine, and then flick deliberately away toward the market entrance. I know what he’s telling me—run. But I won’t. Whatever happens next, I won’t abandon my brother.

  The mirror told me I could save them both. I just have to figure out how.

  Keene hauls Ronan through the open flaps of the Treasury tent, and I hurry in after them.

  We’re too late. The Shadows ambush has already started.

  The room is in chaos. Much of the furniture has been shoved to the sides, creating a large clearing in the center of the tent. Several thieves are fighting throughout the room, moving so quickly, it’s difficult to tell who’s who. Gannon whips through the center of the space, wielding a pair of gleaming daggers. He faces off against a pair of thieves, but they’re too far away to identify. Behind them, two women are fighting with swords, the steel blades flashing and clanking against each other. Keene drags Ronan forward, and we duck past another pair of sparring thieves as one of them throws a punch. It’s Mead.

  Off to the left, a body is splayed on the ground, unmoving, and I am afraid to look. I’m pretty sure someone is dead.

  We weave around the edges of the space, drawing nearer to Gannon, and I get a better look at his opponents. One of them, bearing a long silver blade, is Kerick. The king of the Thieves Guild.

  Keene must recognize him at the same time I do—he stops, hesitant to move any closer. Kerick and Gannon dance around each other, blades glittering in their hands. The thief beside Kerick—one of his guards—is armed too, but Gannon barely seems to notice. His eyes are focused on the king.

  Kerick raises his sword, preparing to strike—

  “Stop!”

  From the back of the tent, Leta emerges. She’s hauling two hostages whose arms are bound behind their backs. My heart sputters.

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

  The other is Beck.

  His right eye is blackened and swollen, and a spot of dried blood stains his mouth, but otherwise he looks unharmed. Intact.

  Trapped.

  “If you don’t want your young thieves here to die, Kerick,” Leta calls, “you’ll stand down.”

  Kerick and Leta stare at each other.

  He lowers his sword but doesn’t drop it. He gestures to the thief standing beside him, who backs off. One of the sword-fighting women follows their cue and steps away from her opponent. All across the room, the fighting stops.

  Keene takes advantage of the silence and drags Ronan forward. “Look who I found lurking around!” he crows. “Two Roscos for the price of one!”

  Keene keeps far away from the king and his knife as he moves toward Gannon, whose eyes light up at the sight of us. “Well, well, well. How nice of you to join us!” Gannon says to me. “We were so disappointed when you ran out earlier.”

  Then he looks at my brother, and his charming smile turns into something slick and sinister. “Ronan. It’s been a long time.”

  “Not long enough,” Ronan says, his voice quiet but unwavering.

  Gannon gestures to Keene. “Tie them up in the back. We’ll deal with them momentarily.”

  “Wait!” I shout, and every eye in the room focuses on me.

  Except Leta’s. She hasn’t stopped staring at Kerick, and there’s something strange about her expression, like she’s seeing a ghost made flesh. I don’t have time to wonder about it—everyone is waiting for me to speak, and I don’t know yet what I’m going to say.

  I open my mouth and let the words come out. “I have something you need,” I say to Gannon. “Something I found in this tiny little cart in the market, across from a stall full of gemstones and a really weird mirror.”

  Gannon’s eyes go wide, and Leta tears her gaze away from Kerick for the first time to glare at Gannon. “What does she mean, Garil?” she asks.

  “You didn’t,” Gannon says to me, his voice dangerously low. His glare is as cold as Ruhian ice. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I?” I say. “Why don’t I show everyone what I found?”

  Slowly, not taking my eyes off Keene and the knife at Ronan’s throat, I reach into my coat, grasp the thin square of glass, and pull it out.

  A long, seemingly infinite moment passes as everyone stares at the silver coin.

  Kerick is the first to react. He moves in my direction, whether to protect me or attack me I can’t tell, but Leta barks, “Don’t move!” He stops.

  Leta gestures to Beck and Peakes. “Don’t think I won’t do it, Kerick.”

  I look back and forth between Beck and Ronan. Both of
them stare back.

  The lump in the pit of my stomach grows, and my gut is tangled up in knots. I have the coin. If I play this right, I can save them both.

  If I mess up, they both die.

  I’m not the only one staring—Kerick is looking at Leta, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold. “Is this the kind of leader you would be?” he says softly.

  “I am the kind of leader who will do whatever it takes. Something I learned so well from you.”

  Her eyes are the same color as his.

  Suddenly everything makes sense.

  The story Beck told me about the King’s Coin. About how Kerick and his sister killed the former king together, but Kerick won the coin and became king, while his sister was exiled from the Guild.

  The sister was Leta.

  She’s probably been planning this all along, ever since she was exiled from the Guild. She’s been biding her time, making plans, preparing for this moment. Preparing to overthrow her brother and seize his power.

  But she couldn’t do it alone. That’s why she formed the Shadows. She couldn’t get Guild members to help, not by herself, but with Garil Gannon as an inside man, she started corrupting the Guild, turning her brother’s thieves against him. And this time, this time she made sure to get the coin. That’s probably why it took her so long to form the Shadow Guild—she had to find the coin first. It was the one thing she needed to make her claim to the throne legitimate. The one thing she didn’t have before.

  The coin is the only thing standing between Leta and the throne, and it’s in my hands.

  Leta turns her gaze on me. “Hand it over,” she says.

  I take a deep breath. “Sorry, but I don’t think you understand how this whole negotiation thing works. Let’s see. I have something you want, you have something I want. . . . How about a trade?”

  Her face twists into a snarl. “How about I kill you and take the coin myself?”

  Oops. I was really hoping she wouldn’t think of that. “Wait,” I say. “Let’s not be too hasty here. Sure, you could have one of your lackeys in the shadows over there kill me—only then they’d be the one holding the coin, and do you really trust them to just hand it over to you? I don’t think so. And you can’t send Keene to do it, since he’s a little preoccupied threatening my brother. You can’t do it yourself, because you’ve got to stand guard over those prisoners—they’re the only thing keeping the king from killing you now, right? And sure, you could send Gannon over here to do it, but you won’t. Because you and I both know how that whole splitting power thing worked for you last time, don’t we?