Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  “What’s going on?” Erik spat.

  She’d been silent the entire journey back. Her heartbeat had raced the entire time. She had glanced into every shadow, and had nearly flung daggers at everyone that passed. Her fingers twitched for her weapons. She had no idea what was going on, who that was, or what he was doing there. Why had he attacked her? Who had the money or pull to hire a Talcotta assassin?

  Narra gritted her teeth and shook her head. Her fists clenched at her sides.

  “Narra!” Erik snapped. He grabbed her shoulder and flung her around. Narra stepped back quickly, slapping his hand away. She stared at him with wide eyes. Fire lit inside her stomach.

  “I don’t know!” she shouted, flinging her arms out to emphasize the statement. “I don’t know why in Srah’s name a Talcotta assassin is after me, but he is.”

  She spun on her heels, the familiar hurricane of her anger swirling inside her. She desperately clung to it, hoping to find some sense in the last few hours. She couldn’t have Erik yelling at her. She couldn’t stand his confusion and terror competing with her own. The Talcotta assassins were known for one thing—they never gave up on their prey. This man would chase her to the ends of the earth until she was dead, or the contract-maker gave up his or her claim on Narra’s life.

  The door to her uncle’s bar swung in as a pair of drunks lurched out the door. Shouts came from within, loud chatter, and the crashing of beer mugs. Narra took a deep breath and smoothed her features.

  Erik’s shadow followed, his warmth familiar and close. He didn’t want to leave her side. He knew as well as she that her life could be on the line.

  “Rheka!” her uncle called.

  Behind the bar, Alden waved her over. His eyes were wild and confused, his cheeks flushed. A man stood before him in a fine fall coat, with disheveled brown locks, and a sword at his hip. Narra charged across the bar, her boots slapping the worn wood. Was someone threatening her uncle?

  Her fire became an inferno.

  Narra ripped her short sword from its sheath. Her heart raced.

  “Finally!” a man bellowed.

  General Asher Grayson spun to face her.

  Narra froze. Her fire turned to snow. She stared wide-eyed at the General of the Emperor’s Armies, in her uncle’s bar, in the criminal district, surrounded by thieves, murderers and gangbangers.

  What in Srah’s holy name was he thinking?

  Relief washed over Alden’s face. “This man is here to see you.” His gaze flung desperately between her and Asher. He knew as well as she what would happen if Alden’s patrons realized who Asher was.

  “I told you to stay away,” Narra hissed, keeping her voice low.

  “Take it upstairs,” Alden growled.

  Narra glanced between Alden, Asher, and Erik, who stood at her back, hand on the hilt of his sword. She took a deep breath and returned her short sword to its sheath. Warmth returned to her limbs, fueled by burning embers.

  “Upstairs,” she agreed. Narra grabbed Asher’s arm and propelled him through the kitchen door. He grunted as he fell through, righting himself on the other side.

  “Who is that?” Erik whispered urgently.

  “A long story.” Narra sighed and followed Asher into the kitchen.

  Without a second glance at the man, she went for the stairs, taking them two at a time to Alden’s loft. She didn’t want any prying ears discerning their conversation from the dining room, especially if things got loud, or violent. Or both. There was really no telling how this conversation would go.

  Heavy boots followed as she reached the second floor. Starlight shone through the upper window, hardly illuminating a single piece of furniture. She shoved her hair behind her ears and groped around for a matchbook.

  “Here,” Erik said. He picked up a lantern and sparked a match from the small package in his pocket. He lit the oil lamp and set it on the small table near a plush sofa. He busied himself lighting candles while Narra pointed at the red upholstered couch.

  “Sit,” she commanded.

  Asher inspected her gaze, his eyes roaming her face. After a moment of silence he nodded and complied, unbuttoning his jacket and taking a seat. Narra unclipped her cloak and laid it across the back of a wooden chair. Now that she was indoors, warmth returned to her limbs, though it didn’t help the fire she refused to quell.

  Her last conversation with Asher came to mind. He’d sentenced her to death to save his son. She couldn’t believe such love was possible. She shook her head and clenched her fists. She didn’t want to talk about this in front of Erik, but sending him away would only be suspicious.

  With a growl, she stared up at the ceiling. Why was Srah testing her so? Or was this Ashra’s doing? The Goddess of Death had a habit of meddling in mundane affairs, or so she’d been told.

  Warm light bathed the wooden room in a soft golden glow. Candles burned on every surface. Erik leaned against the wall beside the stairs, keeping close in case Asher came at her. Narra’s fingers danced at the belt wrapping her hips. Cold metal daggers urged her to act, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t bring the entire empire down upon her uncle’s bar.

  Narra turned to Asher, who inspected her closely. His eyes grazed her many weapons, from the daggers at her forearms to the ones on her hips and thighs.

  “What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “I came to repay my debt to you,” he began. Narra scoffed. “You spared my life. That’s two debts I owe.”

  “You owe me nothing,” she spat. He was right. He owed her much for risking her life, sentencing her to death, and even for her mercy—though she wouldn’t hold him to that. She didn’t want his help. There was nothing he could do for her that she couldn’t do herself.

  “But I do.”

  “How did you even find me?” Narra crossed her arms over her chest.

  Asher smiled. “I have underground contacts too.”

  “Is that so?” Narra raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  “So you thought the best course of action was to accost my uncle in a bar full of thieves, killers, and worse until he gave up my location?”

  Asher blanched. He really was an idiot.

  “This isn’t any tavern, Grayson. This place is for the Thieves .”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “No, you didn’t. Yet, you didn’t even consider the possibility, did you?”

  His jaw hardened and his brown gaze met hers, amber in the candlelight. “No.”

  Her lips twisted into a mocking smirk. “You’re a fool.”

  Asher stood. Erik lurched from the wall, his sword half drawn from its sheath. He glared at the general, every muscle tensed under his shirt .

  Narra shot Erik a narrowed look. Asher and Erik froze nearly in unison. She shook her head ever so slightly. She didn’t need his protection. She could defend herself. Asher wasn’t going to hurt her when he owed her a life debt.

  “I came here to offer my aid in whatever it is you want,” Asher said. He straightened, raising his chin. “I will not leave until you’ve accepted my help.”

  Her inferno returned, fire lapping at her heart and throat, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She spun and paced the length of the room. Her orange hair bounced at her shoulders like angry flames. How could he not see she wanted nothing to do with him? Why must he insist on testing her?

  “All I want to do is help you,” Asher said.

  She turned on him. “I want you to leave me alone . That’s how you can help.”

  Asher chuckled and shook his head. Narra froze. “I’ll just keep coming back until I’ve paid my debt.”

  Her fists clenched at her sides. “Why? For honor? For valor? Because you believe you owe me something after sentencing me to death?” She growled. “I don’t care what debt you think you owe. If I wanted it repaid, I’d call upon you myself.”

  He stared her down as he worked his jaw. Why could he not see he was just a burden? His honor didn’t matter to her
. His debt didn’t matter. Her solitude, her family, and the few safe places she had in this world did .

  She wouldn’t let him take these from her.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.” His eyes weren’t angry; they weren’t on fire like her heart. His tone was solemn, as if he empathized with her, or worse, pitied her.

  Narra spun away, pacing the length of the floor. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to get on with her mission to find Mikael Ruvand and get her answers. She had to know what happened to her father, and she had a debt of her own to repay.

  She stopped.

  She had a debt of her own. She didn’t want to repay it for honor, but to take away the burden of owing someone anything. She didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself. Yet, she had to rely on Marina to help her find out what happened to Quinn. Narra took a steadying breath. She closed her eyes.

  How could she not have seen it before? She was a hypocrite, bullying Asher into leaving her alone when she vehemently insisted on paying her own debts. Then again, Marina requested her aid and Asher attempted to force his upon her. She shook her head.

  “Fine,” she said.

  Erik started from the wall, his boots slamming across the floor until he stood at her shoulder.

  “You can’t be serious,” he whispered, his tone rough, his breath husky on her neck.

  Narra met his gaze over her shoulder. “I am.”

  “Excellent.” Asher visibly relaxed.

  She brushed past her best friend and stood before Asher. He towered over her; wide in stature, but somehow not daunting like the men she’d come to know. Maybe that was simply because she knew she could best him in a fight. He smiled, his grin lopsided. Narra narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need him to be so happy about it.

  “You may accompany me to the Docks,” she said.

  She didn’t need to glance at Erik to feel his cold uncertainty. He didn’t like Asher, or trust him anymore than she did. But, if Asher was only going to return night after night to argue his point, she might as well let him accompany her somewhere and be done with it.

  “Now?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Narra pulled her cloak from the chair and snapped it to her shoulders. “There’s work to be done.”

  Asher nodded his square jaw. Her stomach warmed at the look of intense determination in his gaze. Her brows furrowed, unsure why her body would choose now to find someone attractive.

  Narra shook her head and turned to Erik. His mouth pressed into a thin line and his jaw hardened. He wasn’t happy with her decision, but he wouldn’t argue any further in front of Asher.

  “I’ll stay,” Erik said. Narra quirked an eyebrow .

  Was he that upset with her choice?

  She met her friend’s blue gaze. Something hard replaced the typical soft depths of his eyes. His fists clenched. Narra nodded. It was his decision. If he disagreed with her enough to stay, she’d go without him. At least he knew where she planned to go. If she didn’t return by morning, Erik would have the entire Guild out hunting for her.

  Narra turned to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t wait for Asher’s response and descended into the kitchen. Heavy boots followed. Instead of gathering more attention by leaving through the dining room, Narra led the way out the back door. At least from there the many criminals of Rova City couldn’t see her military burden.

  “What is it you’re after?”

  Narra glanced at Asher, who watched her with expectant brown eyes. They walked side by side down the cobblestone street. Tall wooden warehouses rose on either side, lit only by streetlamps every few yards.

  The faint sound of their boots broke the still night, their warm breath fogging the chill air. Narra looked away from Asher’s raised eyebrow and rugged cheeks. The City Docks weren’t far, maybe another five or ten minutes. She begrudged the general’s presence. If Erik had accompanied her like she originally planned, they would have been there by now. But Asher didn’t have a grappling hook or the skills to use one.

  “Information,” she said. What should she reveal? She couldn’t trust the man, but he could have valuable information about the North Station explosion. Then again, did she really want to tell him the reason she was doing all of this? No. But she doubted very much he’d give up either way.

  Narra sighed. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Who? ”

  Warmth radiated through the general’s coat. He walked far too close for her liking. She leaned away.

  “Corporal Mikael Ruvand.” She observed Asher closely, watching for any flash of recognition at the name. None came.

  “I’ve never heard of him,” he said.

  “I imagine not.” If the man truly was from West Port, it was doubtful they’d have run into each other.

  “Why are you looking for him?”

  Great. Narra clasped her gloved hands into fists. She took another deep breath. She had to remain calm. She couldn’t let herself keep losing control in front of this man she barely knew.

  “He has information I need.” Asher levelled her an irritated look. Narra narrowed her eyes back. She wasn’t saying any more.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “Why is this man at the Docks in the middle of the night?”

  Narra shrugged.

  “Are you sure he’s even there?”

  “No.”

  “Then why go?”

  Narra picked up the pace, lengthening her stride. She was already sick of Asher’s interrogation. She didn’t need to share this information with him any more than she needed him there. Once she had her intelligence, she’d claim his debt was repaid and let him go. She didn’t need to waste any more time on this man.

  “Fine, it’s your business,” Asher said. He caught up with ease, his long legs not working nearly as hard as her own. She cursed him.

  The dark warehouses gave way to a flat expanse of cobblestone, dirt, and wooden planks. The City Docks.

  “Which harbor?”

  Narra glanced at the general. Five coves spread out from one end of the City Docks to the other. They occupied most of the Rova City coast, stretching for miles in either direction. Tall wooden ships with drawn masts sat against the docks, stretching into the black water of the cove. A small wooden sign marked the spot as harbor three.

  “Number four,” she said. The long line of ships were dark. The stench of dead fish rose from the planks. She steered them to the southern side of the cove. “This way.”

  Outside the wide bay, black water met the horizon, lit only by the bright glow of the moon, trailing across the surface in a line of silver. Further down the wharf, the new wooden decks and fancy naval ships turned to rotten wood and small fishing vessels. She wrinkled her nose. It figured the Corporal’s address would be in the seedier docks.

  Among the line of boats, a large dark wood mass stuck out from the others. Its tall masts rose into the starry night sky, ropes hanging every which way. Darker plots of wood along the side of the ship marked withdrawn cannons. A carved mermaid adorned the helm, long hair and hands beckoning sea travelers to their watery grave. Narra checked the numbers on each dock.

  Unit six.

  Narra stopped.

  “Is that it?” Asher motioned up at the lavish craft. Though it was smaller than most military vessels, it certainly didn’t belong to a fisherman or a low-ranking corporal.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Small lanterns lit the deck high above the water. A plank remained between the bow and the dock. Were they awaiting visitors this late?

  No, this was certainly no fishing vessel.

  Narra steeled herself. It didn’t matter who this ship belonged to. This was the address given by Mikael Ruvand. If he was aboard, she’d find him. Narra’s boots beat across the hollow wood as she stepped onto the dock. The planks dipped beneath her, forcing her to tighten her muscles, lest she fall into the murky water below.

  “Hey, wait!” Asher reached for her arm. She jumped back from hi
s touch and spun to face him.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Shouldn’t we wait and scout out the ship first?” His eyes were wide, confused.

  “No.” She turned .

  “Rheka .” He sighed.

  Narra glanced over her shoulder quickly. She had yet to give him that name. She paused, watching the irritation flee his expression. His brows pulled together. She hadn’t given him her name, but her uncle used it when she entered the bar earlier. Narra turned back. Good. If he knew her name then he knew who she really was.

  Narra walked the plank up to the ship’s deck. Asher growled his frustration and stomped after her. She didn’t bother shooting him a look. He wouldn’t know it meant for him to be quiet.

  Two men stood and drew their swords. Curved blades pointed her way. She raised a brow. One grinned, a toothy smirk that bared several missing teeth. A bandana wrapped his gray hair, and though he was thin, heavy muscles flexed as he approached.

  The other, a short, wide man with brown skin, black eyes and a gold-hoop in his ear, eyed Asher. He pointed his twin blades at the general.

  Instead of launching into the fight these men obviously craved, Narra removed her hands from her cloak and held them up, fingers splayed and palms empty. She wasn’t there to fight; yet, her heart hammered her ribcage.

  “I’m looking for Mikael Ruvand,” she said. Her gaze flicked between the men. Thick, swirling black tattoos roped their bare arms. How could they be sleeveless in this cold?

  “If you’re looking for a good time, little girl, we can give it to you.” The man with the missing teeth sneered. His accent was heavy, his O’s short, and his R’s slurred. Though he had the bronze skin of a Rovan man, his accent was foreign, southern maybe.

  Asher stepped onto the deck. Instead of holding his hands up, he reached for the sheath at his hip. Narra glared. How dare he assume she needed his protection?

  She ground her teeth. “I’m here for Mikael Ruvand.”

  “We don’t know a Ruvand ,” the man with the earring slurred. His thick lips pulled into a smile. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

  Her chest burned and she narrowed her eyes .

  “Where is he?” she snapped.