“Get on with it,” said Adren.
“What?”
“You have a point. Get to it.”
“Oh. I guess… when I saw you I figured you were the thief, and I didn’t understand why you’d stolen. You looked like… like a ghost or something ethereal. I get why you changed it, but I was so curious. I wanted to figure out what you were—”
“You thought I was a fairy.” Gods in hell. Did he really need so many words? It was a wonder he got anything done.
“Only because of the… the magic. But when I tried feeling out what you were, I couldn’t find it. It just felt… broken.”
Adren shivered. They needed to get off this thought, and they needed to do it now. It was clear she wouldn’t be able to be rid of this boy. But what to do with him?
“Let me help you,” the boy said.
“Excuse me?”
“Let me help you. I’m sure I could do something, and I don’t think you’re really after anything bad. I don’t think you’re like that. And maybe, with my help, you won’t have to steal.” He rubbed his nose.
Well. It wasn’t anything Adren hadn’t already thought. Except the not having to steal part. She would definitely have to steal. There was no question about that. But how much of the truth could she reveal without putting the unicorn in danger? If the boy had only been human, Adren would have lied and been done with it, but she was almost sure he was part fairy, and magical creatures deserved better than that.
“Lord Watorej stole something from someone in town and I was trying to get it back.” There. No lie. Just a lot of truth.
“More than just the money?” The boy raised his eyebrows. Adren crossed her arms.
“The money is for my own purposes. They want something magic that’s held in a sealskin, but I don’t know where the skin is.” She paused. “You can help me find it.”
“It’s in a… sealskin.” Lines appeared on his forehead.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Why would someone store something in a sealskin?”
“Saints! Will you just give me an answer?” Adren’s outburst was loud enough that the unicorn stirred in its sleep.
“I’ll help you. Do you have a plan?”
“No.” The garage could work as an entrance point, but the boy wouldn’t be able to help her during the day. He didn’t seem capable of deceiving the man he worked with. And Adren didn’t want to break in during the night, which was when everyone expected thieves. They would be on the lookout. That, and Adren disliked making plans in the evening. She needed her sleep.
“Helpful.” The boy grinned and Adren glared at him. He looked mildly terrified. Then: “I think I have an idea.”
“What?”
“I’d have to find out if it’s even possible first. Come by my house in the morning and, if it’ll work, I can tell you what it is.”
Adren raised an eyebrow. “And if it won’t work?”
“Um. I don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out. Maybe come up with a few ideas before we meet, just in case?” He shrugged.
She sighed. “Fine. Make sure you’re around when I come. And awake.”
“Will do. See you then.” The boy got up to leave, but Adren spoke and he stopped.
“Are you sure you want to help me steal from your lord?” Fairy blood or not, he still had human in him, and he had only used words. It was far too easy to make words hide the truth.
He paused. Nodded to himself.
“Yes.”
The sweetness of honeysuckle spread over Adren’s tongue and she silently thanked whoever or whatever decided when the magic worked. At some point, she would to learn how to predict it. Until then, she was grateful that it happened at all.
“What’s your name?”
“Excuse me?” The question had so rarely been asked of her that it surprised her.
“What’s your name?”
“Adren.” The word felt rusty in her mouth, as if her lips were unpractised at forming it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the boy as he made a small bow. “My name’s Nadin.”
Chapter Three
“Tell me this is a joke.” Adren crossed her arms and glared at Nadin. He shrugged. “And stop doing that. It’s monotonous.”
“No. To both.” He shrugged exaggeratedly.
“I won’t do it.” The plan made her want to retch.
“Then what’s your plan?”
Adren thought quickly. “We’d break in. Or you’d help me get in. We'd find the sealskin.”
“Well, this is me helping you get in. Unless you can keep yourself invisible the whole time you search the mansion yourself, because I won’t be helping you during the day. You don’t realize how many people there are in the building then.”
“So get me in at night,” said Adren through gritted teeth.
“I don’t have a key. The door locks on my side.”
“Break the door down.”
Nadin stared at her for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Then he lifted his arms to the sky with a sound of exasperation and threw the livery onto the table. He had brought it from the mansion before they met, after arranging for Adren to work at the mansion that day. The idea was that, come evening, she would let him in from the garage and he would use his magic to help her find the jewel in the sealskin.
“I don’t know how you managed to make away with Lord Watorej’s money.” He folded his arms. “Look. The door to the inside of the house can’t be broken down if I want to keep my job. Anyone with sense would know I was the one to let you in, because I’m the only one in the garage at night. We couldn’t even make it seem like you managed to get past me because I know how to get around the mansion and you don’t.”
“I can turn invisible.”
“Yes, but I can’t. If we’re going to work together, then we both have to get in undetected. If anyone knew I’d helped you break in, I’d lose my job, go to prison, and never be able to get another job here for the rest of my life.” By the end of the last sentence, Nadin’s face was red and he blinked back tears. Odd.
“Saints!” Adren exploded after a pause. “Why do you care? Go to another town and get a job there.”
“I can’t just—”
“Why not?”
“Because I grew up here! This is my home, where my friends are, where I’ve been all my life! Who in their right mind would throw that away for the sake of one event? And what should I do at the next town if something like this comes around again?” His expression turned to horror when he saw that she was unconcerned. “Is that what you do all the time? Just show up somewhere, turn everyone against you, and then leave?”
“None of that matters to me.” Adren stuffed her hands in her pockets and clenched them into fists.
“Like hell. There are only so many towns and cities in the world. If you make them all hate you, then you’ll never have a home. Don’t you want somewhere to call home?”
Adren gave a dry laugh. “I don’t need towns or cities. Get back to the plan.” Nadin’s words had stung, more than she liked to admit, so her words came out harshly, but she wasn’t about to take them back. He didn’t know enough to understand her position and she wasn’t about to recount a history. They had a jewel to steal. Now was not the time to get sidetracked.
“Why?” he asked. The tone was harmless. The word was not.
She met his gaze with a deliberate motion, her eyes blue ice. A dozen possible replies ran through her mind, words which would push his question aside and move to the task at hand. They all fled the chill growing at her centre, a chill which slowed her words to make them wintry clear.
“Because I hate humans. Gods in hell, Nadin, you think I want a home with them? I would rather die than spend the rest of my life in a town full of those filth.” Nadin reacted as if he’d been punched in the gut.
“I’m glad to know that's how you feel,” he said, more bitterly than she had expected. “Enjoy hating yourself so t
horoughly.”
They faced each other, Nadin trembling, Adren still as death.
A woman called Nadin’s name weakly from the second floor. He headed up the stairs, then paused at the top. “Don’t go. I still want to help you.” A door creaked as he opened it and entered the room, speaking to its occupant in soothing tones.
She looked askance at the livery. Its bright red silk reminded her of the dye shop owner and her put-on cheerfulness. She picked it up and tried to find something wrong with it.
Did she hate herself? She mouthed Nadin’s words with a sneer. What a ridiculous accusation. Even if, saints forbid, she were part human, she clearly wasn’t wholly so. Neither was Nadin, but he'd grown up among them, so she supposed it was only natural he would follow their lead and pay sole attention to appearance. His hurt on their behalf was also reasonable, although the strength of his attachment surprised Adren. But to accuse her of hating herself? Gods. The nerve.
At any rate, Nadin cared about keeping his job and the favour of humans, and Adren had to admit his plan was well thought out, if distasteful. Could she endure a whole day of serving in a mansion full of humans? She hoped to all the saints in heaven that she could. Nadin’s skills were too valuable to ignore, and he too hazardous to her success to cast aside. The unicorn needed this cure and it didn’t matter whose plan Adren followed or how much as she hated it, so long as it worked. Besides, she couldn’t find any reason to reject the livery.
Nadin descended the stairs, face drawn and steps heavy.
“I’ll do it,” Adren told him. He nodded, then stopped and narrowed his eyes.
“You’re agreeing to my plan? I thought you didn’t… I mean, I thought you… I mean—” he took a breath. “Thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” said Adren, observing as Nadin started to shrug, then stopped himself. He opened his mouth, closed it, then glanced up the stairs.
“Well, change into the livery and we can go,” he said finally. “I hadn’t thought you wouldn’t like the plan, so we’re running later than I told them to expect.”
Adren rolled her eyes. “Of course. Where do I change?”
“Um.” Nadin blushed and started up the stairs. “Just… tell me when you’re done. We don’t have an extra room.” He disappeared onto the top floor.
With a sigh, Adren removed her coat. As she changed, she checked on the unicorn. Thankfully it only felt content, without even a hint of the kind of curiosity that forewarned trouble. The unicorn had gone far enough away that she was worried she wouldn’t be able to tell if it were in trouble. Strong as their connection was, the unicorn’s emotions became faint with enough distance. It was possible that it could wander so far she wouldn’t be able to feel anything from it, but the idea made her shiver. She and the unicorn had always had some sense of each other for as long as she could remember, some intuition. This transfer of feeling that had unfurled during Pider’s betrayal had only brought what they already had to conscious awareness and, uncomfortable as it could be, Adren had grown used to it. She didn’t want to know what it was like to be alone.
The livery fit well, though a bit wide in the shoulders and the waist, and the design wouldn’t impede movement should things go bad and they needed to run or fight. Even the best plans fell apart when enacted. It was only a matter of when and how. She fastened the belt with a jerk and then removed her money from her coat to put it in the robe’s inner pocket.
“Nadin!”
When he returned, his face was calm enough, but he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Adren couldn’t tell if his agitation resulted from the impending task or the woman upstairs, and Nadin didn’t offer an explanation. He only led her out of the house and locked the door before they started on their way to the mansion.
The smell of meat cooking wafted down the streets, carried by the same wind that caused intermittent dust devils in the alleys as Adren and Nadin passed. A group of children played with a ball at a crossing, chanting to each other and screaming as they ran in convoluted patterns, their antics supervised by an elderly woman who sat on a bench in front of one of the houses. Her eyelids drooped, but she did not hesitate to scold one of the younger girls for nearly tripping a boy with the ball, or the boy when he tried to trip the girl back only a moment later.
Nadin picked up speed, and Adren’s shorter legs had to work to match his stride. His jaw clenched each time they passed someone on the street, but he nodded in greeting to those that noticed him and Adren. Occasionally, one or two people on horseback would ride by, the horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestone that paved this part of town, and the two of them would have to slow down and get out of the way, since riders never made any attempt to keep from hitting anyone on foot.
While Adren preferred excess silence to excess speech, Nadin’s actions made this particular silence so strained that she could almost feel the tension coming off him like steam. She wanted to say something about the matter, but decided to let him stew in his own thoughts. It wouldn’t be hard to ignore.
A motorized cart roared past, as oblivious to anything on the road as the riders had been, and a few people had to make a dash to get out of its way. Adren caught a glimpse of the man driving it, his expression gleeful. As the cart passed by, she could hear the shrieking and giggling of several young women, their noise peaking each time it swerved or came close to hitting someone.
“That’s Lord Watorej,” said Nadin after the cart had gone from sight. “He likes to show off for the daughters of the richer families in town, since he’s one of the only people here who has those carts. He’s constantly damaging them by starting or stopping too fast, or making sloppy turns and hitting things with it. At least he hasn’t hit any people yet. I make sure the carts’ engines go fast enough to thrill him, but not so fast that people can’t get out of the way when they hear him coming.” He gave a small smile, then fell silent again. A woman called out, trying to sell them fruit she claimed to have picked earlier that morning, but Nadin shook his head and they walked past.
At the next crossing, he spoke again. “My mother—the one who called me upstairs—she’s been sick for years. I’ve tried everything I could possibly think of, saving up the money to pay for the things I couldn’t afford right away, but nothing’s worked. No one can tell me what’s wrong with her. Whether they look for magic, disease, or poison, whether they look inside or out, they can’t find anything. And it’s only been getting worse. Until recently, her mind remained as healthy as it had always been, but it’s begun to go as well. You may not understand the comfort of staying in the same place your entire life, but you have to at least be able to imagine what it’s like to take care of someone who can hardly take care of themselves, to be responsible for their life because no one else can or will. That’s why I can’t risk losing my job or this town, more than anything else.”
Adren felt as if a knife had been shoved into her heart and twisted. At first, when she tried to speak, the back of her throat contorted and refused to let anything past, and her tongue glued itself to the top of her mouth. She swallowed, trying to loosen the muscles, hoping that most of this came from the overwhelming sense of truth his words had triggered.
“I u-understand.” Her mouth clammed shut as her heart flooded over. More tried to force itself through her lips, but she did not dare say any of it. The unicorn was her business and no one else’s. If anyone knew that it was vulnerable, she knew only too well what they would try to do. After her encounter with Pider, Adren had only learned more about the depravity of humans, and the things some would do to unicorns made her retch. That particular incident, had been the first, though, and had given her such terrible nightmares that she barely slept for a week, and then only when she was too exhausted to fight it. What she had learned later was even worse. She would still wake in the middle of some nights, covered with sweat and fresh from a dream where Pider hacked off the unicorn’s horn with a sword. A tremor ran through her body before she could
stop it. Nadin glanced at her with concern in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
Adren shook her head, but couldn’t keep her expression neutral. Tears built up behind her eyes, so she stopped and shut her lids tight. She heard Nadin stop as well.
Never, as far back as she could remember, had she met anyone in a situation so like her own. Oh, saints, how she wished it was safe to tell him. A memory flashed into her mind of a little girl running up to her father to whisper a secret in his ear, her fair hair bright against his black clothing. Her mind snatched at it like someone dying of thirst would snatch at rain, but it fled before she could grasp the pictures, and all that remained was an ache.
The unicorn had started an approach, worried for her, and she tried to calm herself down. She didn’t understand how Nadin’s words had brought about such a rush of emotion, but neither did she want to, for fear of that rush never ending.
“Can I help?” His boots scraped against the road as he stepped forward and, when Adren opened her eyes, she could see his hand reaching towards her shoulder. She recoiled.
“Don’t touch me!”
Several passersby gave curious glances, but Nadin seemed not to notice. He pulled his arm back, but concern remained on his face. “We need to keep going.”
Adren resumed walking, and Nadin followed suit, but her attention remained on returning the pain inside of her to its hiding place. Slowly, as she calmed, the unicorn’s worry turned to puzzlement, then to peace. Once she had returned to normal, it stopped coming for her.
At the end of the street stood the mansion, looking even larger now that Adren saw it in the daylight. The blue roof and red-framed windows stared down on her in condescension. Nadin had been right about the amount of people on the grounds during the day. Aside from the expected security officers on guard, she counted at least five gardeners tending to the flowers, shrubs, and trees, three mechanics taking a break in the garage, and four maids, two scrubbing the roof and two keeping an eye on the ladders while washing the ground-level windows. While breaking in by herself wouldn’t have been impossible, it still would have been very, very difficult. Nadin grinned at her.
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