Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Ilanna didn’t like it but she understood. She’d claimed her seat in defiance of the unspoken rule of seniority. None of the Journeymen had spoken out, and she hadn’t bothered to care what they thought of her. She’d earned her place, protocol or custom be damned. If any Hawk wanted to oust her, they had only to prove their superiority. Not much chance of that happening.

  Master Hawk released her arm and she inclined her head. “Watcher guide you, Master Hawk.”

  “And you, Ilanna.” A smile tugged at the House Master’s lips as Ilanna turned and followed the others from the Hawk Council Chamber.

  * * *

  “Ilanna!”

  Ilanna’s shoulders tensed at the familiar voice but she forced a smile as she turned. “It’s good to see you, Denber.”

  His smile came easy. “You, too. Judging by the way you baited Bryden, Lord Ulimar’s went off without a hitch?”

  Ilanna quirked an eyebrow.

  “What?” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “You always get cocky when you pull off a big job. I know you, remember?”

  “You heading out somewhere?”

  Denber glanced down at the dark grey outfit he only wore when he went on a job. “Lord Illiran’s first, to get a quick look at the place. Then the twins and I have set up a way into Lord Morrin’s. We’ll have a few hours before daylight to get in and out.”

  Werrin came up behind Denber. “Come on, mate, we’ve gotta run. Lord Morrin’s valuables won’t steal themselves.”

  Denber nodded. “You and Lem head up top. I’ll meet you in a minute.”

  “Right.” Werrin grinned at Ilanna. “Good to see you again, ’Lanna. Been a while.”

  “Don’t get yourself killed out there, Werrin. You and me’ll have to get a drink after you’re done.”

  “Deal.” Werrin raced away.

  Ilanna watched the Hawk go. “He hasn’t changed much. Still has that same mischievous twinkle in his eye.”

  “Lem’s about the same, too.” Denber stroked the dark beard he’d allowed to grow on his broad, handsome face. “Way they act, it’s hard to believe they’re only a few years older than you.”

  “Just not half as clever. That’s the real difference.”

  Denber chuckled. “No argument from me.”

  Neither of them spoke for seconds that seemed unnaturally long. Ilanna didn’t know what to say. Being around Denber—around any of the Hawks she’d grown up with—made her uncomfortable. She hated the fact that she owed them a debt, one she could never truly repay. After what they’d done for her…

  “You want to come with?” Denber jerked his head toward the Aerie. “Sun won’t set for another few hours, which gives us plenty of time to get the lay of the land. We could always use another set of eyes.” He grinned. “’Specially ones attached to a brain like yours.”

  Ilanna returned the smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got another dragon to slay.” She thrust a chin at Bryden’s door. “Turning in my haul from Lord Ulimar’s.”

  Denber groaned. “The way you went off on him in the meeting, you’ll be lucky to get out of there alive.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I know you can.”

  Ilanna forced herself not to tense at the friendly touch. She kept her face a mask of calm. Over the years she’d learned to hide the instinctive shudder of revulsion, to not let her true feelings show as long as she had control, could anticipate the contact. It did little to calm the roiling of her stomach, but she no longer jerked away.

  He means well, she told herself.

  “Be well, Denber.” She turned and strode down the tunnel.

  “And you, Ilanna.” His voice rang out. “I’ll be taking you up on that drink when I get back.”

  Ilanna didn’t relax until a corner in the tunnel hid Denber from view. Her forearms ached from her clenched fists and her fingernails had deepened the ever-present indentations in her palms.

  At the next intersection, she found Conn deep in conversation with Jarl. Jarl nodded at her as she passed—as loquacious a greeting as he could manage—but Conn ignored her. Her relationship with the older Hawk hadn’t improved over the years. She hated his haughty demeanor. He, like many other Hawks, resented her success. Unlike the others, he’d made no secret of his feelings.

  Jealousy makes ugly men.

  Reaching Bryden’s door, she took a deep breath, drew herself up, and knocked.

  “Come.”

  She pushed the door open and strode into what Bryden liked to call his office. The rooms were spacious, as befitted a senior member of House Hawk, but filled with heavily-laden shelves and cabinets. An enormous wooden desk occupied a full quarter of the room. Behind it, Bryden sat in the plush chair he’d ordered from Malandria.

  “I’ve—”

  Bryden raised a finger but didn’t look up from the stack of parchments in his hand for long moments.

  Ilanna’s lip curled. She fought down the urge to scatter Bryden’s papers across the room. That wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  Finally, Bryden lifted his gaze. “Ahh, Ilanna.” He adjusted his spectacles and peered down his nose at her. “Is there something I can help you with?” His honeyed tone turned her stomach. His words held as much warmth as the Frozen Sea.

  “I’ve brought the haul from Lord Ulimar’s.” She reached into her purse and drew out ten golden coins. “Ten imperials.”

  Bryden stared down at the coins as if she’d deposited a fresh horse apple on his desk. “That’s it?”

  “You think I’m holding out on you, Bryden?”

  He looked like he wanted to say yes, but managed to restrain himself.

  “Do you need to search me?” She held out her arms. “I know you’ll enjoy that.” She had nothing to hide. The other ten imperials lay in a secret purse in her rooms.

  He rolled his eyes, a shade of hazel not quite as dark as his thinning hair. “I expected more from you, that’s all.”

  “Add that to the kickback from the Crown and you’ve nothing to complain about.”

  He gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, I make no protest about your earnings. You’ve done well enough for yourself.” He waggled a finger at the ten golden coins. “But surely even you could have come away with a bit more for your trouble.”

  Ilanna ignored the jab. “What do I always tell you, Bryden?”

  Bryden parroted her voice. “Never let them know you’re there.” He snorted. “Seems a foolish way to operate.”

  “But that’s my way. And have you had any reason to complain thus far?”

  Reluctantly, Bryden gave a stiff shake of his head.

  “Then let me do things my way. Now, do you want those imperials or should I keep them?”

  Bryden’s leg, injured in a fall a decade earlier, slowed his steps but not his hands. The coins disappeared into his desk with a speed any Fox would envy. He scribbled in a ledger and handed her a golden imperial. “Your share of the take.”

  Ilanna pocketed the coin. “I’ll need more pennyweighters.”

  “I gave you ten of them just a—”

  She pointed to the drawer where he’d stowed the coins. “Ten imperials, Bryden.”

  The Hawk shook his head, but drew out a purse from another drawer. “How many?” He made no effort to hide his exasperation.

  “Ten’ll do.” She held out a hand.

  Muttering under his breath about “waste”, Bryden passed her ten of the gold-plated lead coins.

  The door opened and three Hawks entered the office. The second-in-command couldn’t carry out the jobs himself, so he’d convinced these Hawks—not the brightest in the House, but skilled enough to serve his purposes—to do his footwork. Much as she disliked the man personally, she couldn’t fault his intellect. He’d kept these men alive thus far, an accomplishment in itself.

  “Setting up the Lord Vorrel job, eh?” Ilanna looked down at Bryden’s twisted leg, stretched under the table. “D’you plan to be there yourself
, or is this another one you’ll leave to your crew?”

  Scowling, Bryden climbed to his feet. “I’ve had enough of you.” He stood a full head taller than her, though his leg ruined his attempts to loom. “Some of us have actual work to do.”

  With an angelic smile, she turned and nodded to the Hawks standing behind her. “Good thing the gods gave him a brain as well as two working legs, eh?”

  Bryden’s growl was music to her ears as she slipped from the office. The door closed behind her with enough force to stir up dust. Chuckling, Ilanna strode through the Aerie and into the tunnels toward her rooms.

  Just one more thing to get out of the way…

  Chapter Three

  Ilanna swallowed the acid surging to her throat and gave a suggestive moan. Allon lay on his back, eyes closed, his breath coming in short gasps of delight. The stink of sex hung thick in the air and his grunting echoed from the walls of her chamber in House Hawk.

  She kept the undulations of her hips slow and steady to build the tension. Allon’s breathing quickened and he reached up to grope at her breasts. She seized his wrists and pressed his hands onto the bed. He yielded with a delighted grin.

  She continued her moaning; it convinced him she enjoyed it and hastened the end of the unpleasant affair. Anything to be done with this.

  When the force of his thrusts increased, she rolled off him. He was properly primed; she could let him drive to completion. The begging, pleading look in his eyes filled her with disdain and revulsion, but she only smiled and beckoned him. She could put up with physical contact—even this sort—provided she remained in control of the situation.

  Red-faced, shoulders knotted with exertion, he whispered inanities into her ear and writhed atop her like a ship in a storm. The heat of his body on hers sent ice trickling through her veins. Her stomach churned as she gripped the sheets, but she forced herself to move in time with Allon’s frantic pumping. She resisted the urge to wipe the sweat dripping from his forehead.

  To Ilanna, it seemed she watched everything from behind her own eyes. Allon touched someone else—she was simply cursed to be present. She gave the right responses, encouraging him with a touch, a movement. Yet nothing but a hollow numbness filled her, amplifying her disgust as he slid in and out of her.

  His eyes went wide, his gasping grew loud and fast, and the muscles in his face tightened. Ilanna let out a simulated cry of pleasure as Allon jerked and spasmed in his final exertion.

  Groaning, he rolled onto the bed beside her. With a feigned moan, Ilanna stretched her arms over her head and uncurled her toes.

  “Sweet gods of Einan!” Allon clutched his chest. “How in the fiery hell do you do that to me every time?”

  Ilanna plastered a smile of mock contentment on her face. “What can I say? You’re just that good.” He would never notice the rigidity of her spine or the way her stomach twisted at his touch.

  Allon sighed and rolled onto his side. “With you, Ilanna, a man can never have enough.” He leaned in for a kiss but she quickly sat upright.

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” She clenched her jaw as his finger traced a line down her spine. Her stomach lurched, rejecting the very essence of his presence.

  “You know you’re the only one for me.”

  She hid a shiver beneath a sultry smile and climbed to her feet to face him, hands planted on her hips. As always, his gaze explored her form. There was a time she might have felt uncomfortable, self-conscious even, standing in front of him like this, her body on display. She’d learned better; her form was just one more tool to get what she wanted.

  Allon slumped back, his breath coming fast. Ilanna’s gaze fell on the vein pulsing in his neck. Men were always so vulnerable after they got what they wanted. Her fingers twitched, aching to grab one of the daggers in her bracer. She could kill him before his befuddled mind realized the danger.

  Her right hand strayed to the bracer, her thumb tracing the outline of her favorite push-dagger. “Comfortable?”

  Allon chuckled. “Best bed in the Guild.”

  “Been in that many, eh?” Ilanna scowled. “A Hound’s gotta keep warm on those cold nights.”

  “Now that’s not fair.” Allon pouted—he no doubt thought it cute, but it made him look foolish. “You know I only like it because you’re in it.” He reached for her. “Or should be.” His eyes dropped to her lithe form and his body stirred in response.

  “None of that!” She snapped her fingers, her voice hard and commanding. “Time for you to be getting back to your House.”

  Disappointment flashed across his face. “Come on, Ilanna.” His voice turned wheedling. “Surely you—”

  “Need a good night of rest in my own bed? Absolutely.” She strode to the chair and seized his clothes. “I always sleep better when I’m alone.” She dropped his pants, tunic, and belt onto his chest.

  Allon grunted as the Hound-engraved buckle of his belt slapped his face. “You sure know how to make a fellow feel welcome.” He climbed to his feet, making no attempt to hide his nakedness, and slipped into his clothes.

  Ilanna took in his sinewy chest and shoulders with the dispassion of a butcher examining a hung carcass. She snorted. “After what we just did, you’ve nothing to complain about.” She reclined in a nearby chair and reached for the pitcher of Nyslian red he’d brought. The velvet vintage slid down her throat, the taste of oak, blackberries, and cloves lingering on her palate. She couldn’t complain about his taste in wines.

  He winced as he pulled his tunic over his head. He peered over his shoulder in an attempt to see the red lines her nails had carved into his back. “That good, eh?”

  Ilanna gave him an encouraging smile and tilt of her head. “What can I say?” Experience had taught her to tell men what they wanted to hear rather than the truth. Nothing would put an end to his usefulness faster than learning of her true feelings about their encounters.

  Allon grinned. “Maybe next time you’ll take the bracer off.”

  “And be defenseless around a man with such dishonorable intentions?” She drew a throwing knife from the bracer. “A woman has to protect her honor and reputation.”

  “Is that why I always have to sneak in?” He raised an eyebrow. “And why you never come to House Hound?”

  Ilanna gave him a smile sweet and thick as honey. “You sneak in to keep your skills sharp. A Hound who can’t avoid detection is no better than a Grubber.”

  He grimaced and mimed a dagger to the chest. “Cold, Ilanna.” His face grew serious. “My uncle knows about us, so what’s the problem? Why do you want to keep it from the rest of House Hawk?”

  “Because my business is my own.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, emphasizing their roundness. His eyes dropped from her face. “Besides, just because my House Master knows I’m…entertaining his nephew, that doesn’t mean the whole Guild has to find out.”

  Allon’s mind, occupied with her nakedness, failed to muster a response.

  “Off with you, Hound.” She waved him away.

  “Until next time, Hawk.” With a grin, he opened her door, peered into the hall, and slipped out without a sound.

  Ilanna remained motionless for ten thundering heartbeats, then darted into the small bathing chamber. Shuddering, she splashed water over her body, scrubbing her chest, face, neck, and between her legs to be rid of any traces of him. Her skin crawled at the memory of his touch, his sweat, his breath, as if infected by a disease that went bone deep.

  The smell of Allon’s pleasure twisted her stomach into knots. She tore off the bedsheets and hurled them into a corner. Reaching into the chest at the foot of her bed, she drew out a vial, uncorked it, and downed the contents in a single gulp. She’d learned to make the contraceptive potion years ago, a few months after Sabat.

  Stomach burning, she slid to a seat, back against the wall, legs drawn to her chest. She reached for a dagger and clutched it in a death-grip. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths and tried to dri
ve off the sensations washing over her: the agony of her hip, injured in a fall from the Black Spire; the taste of blood and dust in her mouth as Sabat smashed her face against the floor; the fetid smell and the heat of his breath on her face.

  She gritted her teeth against a surge of acid. I will do what I must! She repeated the words, clinging to them as she had that night. As she had when she lay in bed recovering from Sabat’s vicious attack, and again when Journeyman Tyman presented her with the tea that would end her pregnancy.

  She’d survived. She’d had her vengeance on the Bloodbear apprentice. The image of his death still kept her awake at night, just as the memory of him forcing his way inside her. She’d vowed never again to be weak. Everything she’d done since that day had ensured she kept that promise.

  Sabat had shown her the truth that night: she had to be harder, crueler if she wanted to survive. She wouldn’t let herself be used; she would use others first. No matter how much it made her cringe to do it.

  The words of Croquembouche, a courtesan from The Arms of Heaven in Voramis, rang in her mind. “You think I like doing this? The feeling of those grubby hands in all the wrong places? Not a bleedin’ chance, girl. But it gets me what I want.” The fact that Croquembouche had become the madame of the house—buying her former madame’s share of the brothel—proved she knew her business.

  Ilanna had discovered the truth of the courtesan’s words on multiple occasions. Allon was just the latest in a string of people who served her purposes. He wasn’t the first who’d fallen prey to the allures of her body. He wouldn’t be the last. Once he stopped being useful, she would find someone else.

  He had his uses, for now. As Master Hawk’s nephew, he elevated her status in the House Master’s eyes. As a Hound, he could procure things she couldn’t. His skills as a tracker and hunter had come in handy on more than one occasion. It was why she had allowed him to touch her in the first place. She’d found the right incentive. All she had to do was moan and pretend to enjoy his touch at the right times, and he’d do whatever she wanted.

  At that moment, she wanted nothing to do with the man—with any of the Guild. She ached to be free of the stuffy underground warren and the stink of sweat permeating her cramped chamber. She had to flee everything that reminded her of the life her father had condemned her to.