Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  “There.” He motioned her inside.

  She didn’t move. “When did you last see the man?”

  Jin sighed. “A few hours before your arrival. I imagine he took off with the rest when the riot broke out. He was upstairs at the time.”

  Narra held back her grimace. Asher had been right. If he hadn’t of come, she would have found her target and claimed her answers.

  “Go,” she said.

  Jin didn’t wait for her to repeat herself. He took off down the hall and descended back to the main floor. Once the creaks of his steps grew distant, she grabbed the oil lamp from the hall and stepped inside.

  The dim light illuminated the sparse furnishing. A single cot, blankets neatly folded, a dresser with a set of daggers atop it, and a small desk in the corner with papers strewn over its surface. Mikael had left in a hurry. She searched the dresser first. Several sets of clothes, mostly ragged like the pirates she’d come to know, but also two black military uniforms with gold cuffs. She slammed the drawers shut and sat at the desk to look through the piles of thick parchment.

  Maps of Rova City, West Port, and the entire empire lay rolled next to an inkwell. Nothing special marked them. A small journal detailed his days at sea, from Rupa to West Port from several weeks ago, but nothing about why he’d been there. Nothing personal.

  Frustration unleashed fire inside her. Her fists slammed the thick wood, sending a loose quill bouncing to the floor. She leaned down to replace it. A pair of discarded cotton pants caught her eye, lying at the foot of the bed inches from the chair. A piece of folded white parchment stuck out of the back pocket.

  She grabbed it and smoothed it across the desk’s surface. The dim lantern light lit a familiar scrawl and format. At the top of the sheet in swooping letters was written: contract .

  Her heart skipped and her eyes widened .

  Who was this man?

  Narra scanned the page. The objective of the mission was to poison and then take the place of the soldier that was supposed to transport special cargo from West Port to Rova City. Once aboard the train, the contractor was to guard a locked case that was under no circumstances to leave his possession. Once he arrived at North Station in Rova City, a carriage would be waiting to take him to the palace where he would be compensated handsomely.

  Her hands went cold. The two lines at the bottom were filled. In quick looped letters, the supplier of the contract signed: Emperor Malek Kolarova. The contractor’s scratched letters looped next to the first: Taron Mikyle.

  Narra started. She knew that name. Years ago, before Claudia and Klaus took over their positions as head of the Lockpicks and Pickpockets, Taron had been Commander of the Picks. He’d been sentenced to death under Guild law for killing a fellow commander, the leader of the Pocks. He’d gotten away before the Guild could deliver his punishment.

  Mikael Ruvand was Taron Mikyle.

  She leaned back against the hard wooden chair. Her blood ran cold. How deep did this run? Had the Guild been involved in her father’s death all along or was this just a coincidence that an ex-Guild commander was involved? Could the Guild Master be playing favorites, giving contracts to old members? Though he or she was always supposed to remain completely unbiased, it could be possible that they’d sent a contract to Taron and split the profits on the side.

  Her stomach soured.

  Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good.

  She stood, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor. She had to get back to the Guild and see if anyone had seen Taron in the last few days. If he’d been in town for this long, he could be anywhere, but the other commanders may know where she could find him.

  Narra scooped the contract from the table, folding it and placing it inside the front of his journal. She took both, the only items of use in the small quarters .

  Would the other commanders help her? It would be treason to hide this man from the Guild. But Taron had been a well-respected leader, and her father always told her that the other Guild commanders had been happy to see him get away before they could find him.

  She shook her head and went to the door.

  Whether the Guild would help her or not, she would find out who this man truly was, and what he was doing in this city. If he had anything to do with her father’s death, she’d deliver justice for herself, for Quinn, and for the rest of the Thieves Guild.

  T he stomp of her boots echoed off the narrow brick corridor. Finally back in her own clothes, Narra’s shoulders relaxed. She’d taken the time to wipe the makeup from her face, shower, and dress the scratch on her thigh. She felt much more like herself with her sheathed daggers, short sword, and pistol heavy on her hips. The weight was welcome after a long night in a corset.

  Torchlight flickered as Narra whisked through the empty Guildhalls. Even thieves had to sleep at some point, yet someone was always awake.

  The thick saloon door stood ajar, the large wooden table and wax-dripping chandelier dangling overhead. August sat at the bar, his gold-plated cane in hand and a book in the other. Thick-rimmed glasses sat at the tip of his large nose.

  Narra stepped inside.

  August looked up as if sensing her presence. He smiled beneath his thick white moustache and motioned her over. The last time she’d seen the elderly commander, she’d been a hurricane, flying through the Guild with only one purpose in mind—find and kill Asher Grayson. So much had changed in a couple of days.

  “Good evening, Rheka,” he said. “What have you been up to? ”

  He folded the book against the bar top, keeping his page clearly marked. Relief was evident on his face. For all she knew, August could have thought she was dead. The rest of the Guild Commanders most likely thought the same. It wasn’t often one of them went after a military man.

  “I need to know everything about Taron Mikyle.” She stopped several feet from the elderly man. Her fingers itched at her sides, ready for action. Her heart still pounded in rhythm with her anxiety. She needed to find this man, and fast, before he fled Rova City for good. Her reunion with the commanders could wait.

  “Ah, now that’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.” August removed his round spectacles and set them against the forest green cover of his small novel. Interest sparked in his hazel gaze. “What do you need to know?”

  Narra paused, unsure how much to say. If she told August that Taron had returned, she’d have much explaining to do and no time. “If he were to return… where would he hide?”

  August’s wrinkled skin twisted in a frown. His bushy white brows pulled together. For the first time, the man regarded her with suspicion. Narra smoothed the surprise from her face and kept her gaze level. She couldn’t let her emotions get the better of her. Not now.

  “Well, Taron was about your father’s age, but enjoyed spending time with your uncle in the bar instead of at the Guild.” August paused. “Until he became a commander that is.”

  Narra bit back a gasp. Alden had been friends with this man? Her heartbeat sped up. What could that mean? If her uncle had anything to do with Taron’s reappearance, she had to know.

  “They were good friends?” she asked.

  “The best, I’d wager.” August’s expression relaxed and he shrugged.

  Her mind swirled with possibilities. If her uncle had something to do with Taron, could he also be involved in her father’s death? She shook her head. Never. Alden loved her father as much as any brother would. He’d never betray him. It had to be a coincidence that they were friends .

  Narra cleared her throat and stepped toward the door. “Thank you, August.”

  The elderly man nodded and slipped his glasses back on. He stared at Narra above their thick rim. “If you get into any trouble, you know you can always come to me, Rheka.”

  Her heart clenched. She’d been so cruel when last they spoke, and now he offered her kindness as he always did. “I know.”

  August opened his book again, his gaze sliding back to the thick yellowing pages. “Good n
ight, Rheka.”

  “Good night, August.”

  Light shone through the circular window in the top of Alden’s bar. Her heart leapt. He was home. Perfect. She had questions for him, questions she wasn’t sure she’d like the answers to. She bit her lip. He couldn’t be involved with Taron, even if they had been friends. Her uncle had always been noble, especially in comparison to her father.

  The front door was locked.

  Narra raised an eyebrow and went around back. Only the dim light of the moon and stars lit the alleys and kitchen entrance. She tried the handle. It clicked, the door swinging open. She smiled. Her uncle never did remember to lock the back.

  She stepped inside, the warmth of the hearth lending heat to the entire floor. She brushed her cloak over her shoulders and skirted the kitchen island, heading for the stairs.

  Deep voices rumbled overhead.

  It had to be Erik with her uncle. He’d most likely come by to complain about her decision making, especially where the general was involved.

  Narra prepared herself to roll her eyes. Her chest tightened as she mounted the stairs. They didn’t creak beneath her feet. In the familiar bar, she knew exactly where to step. Candlelight drenched the top of the stairs. She stepped into the loft.

  She’d seen a picture of Taron with her uncle once along with the others her father kept locked in an old chest in his room. Narra had snuck a peek or two several times as she grew up, mostly looking for photos of her mother, trying to hold on to any piece of her.

  At the center of the room stood her uncle, his eyebrows pulled together and his hair swept back in a loose bun. He whispered fevered words to a man about his height; tall with wide shoulders and short raven black hair. Candlelight flickered over his bronze skin. A small scar broke through his frown, the pale skin running diagonal across his thick lower lip.

  Taron.

  Narra froze on the landing. Her whole body went cold. Air flew from her lungs in a quiet gasp, barely audible even over their harsh tones.

  Her uncle turned his blue gaze upon her. Taron’s green eyes followed curiously.

  Alden stilled, his eyes flying wide, his brows shooting high on his forehead. “Narra.” He gaped, forgetting to use her last name in front of a stranger.

  “Uncle,” she murmured. How could her own blood be involved with such a person? Especially one she’d been looking for this entire time? Had he known? Had he been hiding Taron from her for hours or days?

  Did he know who killed her father?

  Her heart lurched, spreading emptiness through her bones. “How could you?” Her heavy breath muffled her words. “How could you be involved with him ?” She flung her hand in Taron’s direction. The man remained still, staring between her and Alden. He said nothing.

  “Narra, let me explain.” Alden stepped forward.

  “Rheka ,” she snapped, purely out of habit.

  “This isn’t what it looks like.” His meagre defense only confirmed his guilt. If he didn’t know what she spoke of, or why she was so upset, then maybe this all could have been a simple coincidence. Maybe Taron had just stopped by for a visit with an old friend while he was in town. But no. Her uncle knew. He’d known all along.

  “You should both be hung for treason against the Guild.” The harshness of her own words, and the snarl in her throat surprised her. She didn’t feel the usual fire that accompanied her rage. Instead her body was ice, frozen and rooted to the ground. Frost bathed her veins and cooled her hollow chest. This wasn’t anger. This was something else.

  Something unfamiliar and out of control.

  “How long have you harbored this murderer?” Her fists clenched.

  Alden’s shock dissipated to guilt. His brows turned up and his gaping mouth snapped closed. There was no denying it, and he knew it.

  “You’ll be tried, Alden,” she said. Her uncle winced. Never had she used his name before. “You’ll be killed. Why in Srah’s name would you do this?” Her voice rose and her fists shook.

  Her uncle simply shook his head.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Narra shouted. Her eyes stung and she blinked furiously. She would not cry. Not now.

  Taron stepped forward. His emerald gaze was somehow gentle. Irritatingly so. It didn’t still her fury, merely lit her rage.

  “It isn’t your uncle’s fault, Rheka,” he said, his voice even and unwavering. “I came to him. I’ve been living with pirates for too long, so when your uncle offered a contract Quinn wouldn’t let the Guild take, it was an easy way to get the money I needed to make a fresh start.”

  Her brows pulled together. How dare this man speak for her uncle? And what did he mean, her father wouldn’t let the Guild take a contract? He had nothing to do with the process.

  “With Alden’s help, I could sneak in and out of the city unnoticed,” he continued. Alden’s eyes grew wide and he reached for Taron’s arm. “But Quinn had other plans for the contract. He didn’t want the Guild taking it because he wanted it for himself.”

  “What are you saying?” Her lips quivered. “How could my father have anything to do with this contract?”

  Alden and Taron exchanged a look. Though Taron remained neutral, Alden’s panic was palpable in his claw-like grip on Taron’s arm .

  “He was the Guild Master.”

  Narra started, the deep freeze finally thawing. “What ?”

  Alden stepped away from his old friend and over to Narra. His fingers grasped her biceps, and his gaze met hers. There was terror in their blue depths.

  “Narra, I’m sorry,” her uncle said, his voice high and desperate. “I had to stop him. Your father has been taking contracts for years. He was never supposed to stay Guild Master for so long. I tried to convince him to give up his post to you like your mother wanted. The Guild Master always passes on their post to the next, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

  She gasped. That couldn’t be right, couldn’t be true. Her father was the Guild Master? Her mother had been before him? She was supposed to be the next one? The unseen master of the Guild was supposed to be all-powerful, holding the final decision over any matter pertaining to the Guild. Mostly, he or she just picked the contracts the Guild would take, but there was far more the Guild Master could choose to control if he or she so willed it.

  “Your father pulled me from the train in Drestel Ridge that night.” Narra looked over her uncle’s shoulder at Taron. He stared at the floor.

  So it was true then.

  Her father had been the one to betray the Guild. Stealing a contract was punishable by death.

  “How could this happen?” she whispered. Her body ached, no longer fueled by the adrenaline of her hunt. She had her answers and they broke apart what she knew of the world.

  “He was a traitor,” Alden said. His fingers dug in to her biceps painfully. She didn’t shift away. “I had to stop him.”

  Wait.

  Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. “No.” Her eyes widened. “It couldn’t have been you.”

  The emptiness inside her chest filled with heat. He had to be lying. This wasn’t possible. Taron had been on the train, he had to have been the one to kill her father .

  But Alden’s blue eyes told her another story.

  “I’m sorry, Narra.” His brows furrowed and he finally released her arms, only to lock her in his embrace. Shivers racked her spine and shook her hands.

  This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t accept this.

  His chin lay atop her head; his body warm against hers, yet she was ice. All this time, Alden knew and had lied to her. He let her scour the city for answers, nearly getting herself killed in the process—and still he let her keep looking.

  He killed her father.

  The man who was more of a father than Quinn had ever been was the murderer who ended the life of her blood—for whatever reason he’d come up with.

  She pushed away violently, thrusting Alden to the floor.

  “You killed my father
!” Saying the words ended her cold and sparked her fire. Her teeth ground together and her fists shook.

  “You let me believe this entire time you had no idea what happened,” she continued. “But you were to blame!” The inferno engulfed her. Tears sprung back to her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “I almost died because of your lies, and you still kept going. You had every opportunity to tell me the truth, but your own agenda was more precious than the life of your niece!”

  Alden slowly rose, shaking his head, his eyes wide. “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Narra. I did it to save the Guild and put you in power like Khlara wanted.”

  Narra shot forward, a snarl at her lips. “Don’t you dare say my mother’s name!”

  Her uncle stepped back.

  She didn’t want to hurt Alden, yet everything inside her reached for the sword at her hip. She should execute him right now, save the Guild a long trial. She was a commander, and he was not. She’d get away with it, but she couldn’t bear the thought of having her uncle’s blood on her hands. She shook her head. Tears blurred her vision.

  The wood beneath their feet creaked as Taron shifted uncomfortably. She should kill this man, who tore the life of a fellow commander away. He deserved the edge of her blade, yet now that she had her answers, she didn’t care what he did.

  “Go,” Narra said. She forced back her tears and wiped her cheeks. Green eyes met hers. “Go before you’re found.”

  Alden glanced back at his old friend. Shock registered on both their faces. Taron inched passed her uncle slowly.

  “Thank you,” he said. The man watched them both warily as he skirted around them and descended the stairs.

  It was for the best that he leave now. He had nothing more to do with this. His presence only complicated their lives.

  “Narra.” Alden stepped forward, reaching out to her.

  She recoiled. “I can’t look at you right now.” Narra turned her back on her uncle.

  His blue eyes only reminded her of her father, and the life lost by his hands. She couldn’t think right now, couldn’t bear to figure this all out on her own. Now that she had her answers, there was one last thing to do.