Narra pulled Marina back to her chest, her grip tightening around the princess. Her heart ached.
“I’ve never seen him so angry,” Marina whispered .
She ground her teeth, trying unsuccessfully to bite back her rage. “I’ll see to it that no one ever hurts you again, Princess.”
“How?” Marina pulled back, her eyes seeking Narra’s.
Narra took her arms in her hands. Purple bruises stood out on her forehead and cheek, dangerously close to her dazzling hazel eyes, warm like liquid amber. No, Narra couldn’t let another soul touch this girl. Her heart lurched and her fingers tightened. She’d been death’s hand once already; she could do it again. “I’ll see to it.”
She released the princess and spun to the stairs. Her boots beat against the wood, echoing off the hollow staircase.
“Narra, wait!” Marina cried.
Her inferno lent speed to her feet. She met the first floor landing in moments, Marina’s cry echoing on her heels. She didn’t have time to waste. Marina would be safe at the hospital. She’d see to it the emperor stayed away from his daughter, the empire, and the rest of the world.
There would be no more destruction, no more pain because of Marina’s father. The man had had a hand in Quinn’s demise, whether it was intentional or not. Ever since Malek had given up Emperor Zaneth for his association with the Guild, the empire had slowly slid back toward the depravity of the Century of Blood. She couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
Narra would kill Emperor Malek—tonight.
The Imperial Palace rose high on the hill, at the very top of Rova City. Tall stone walls and a black iron gate encircled it, sealing inside all those within. Smooth stone pillars peeked beyond the walls, dark turrets at the top, and a large dome rested on top of the main building. A golden sun was etched from a solid block of gold at the highest peak, marking the union between the empire and the god Srah.
It had been centuries since the religion was truly held in high regard, but the symbol of the old deity continued to remain, a sign to those who still believed the emperor worked beneath the gods .
Narra crept through the shadows, one with the night. Soldiers roamed the walls, standing guard at the pillars, and watching the main gate.
She skirted them all, taking to the alleys several blocks away. Tall stone buildings with ornate carvings, arches, and high windows lined the streets.
Though Emperor Zaneth’s association with the Guild had gotten him killed, he’d died keeping the secrets of their organization, including the ancient service tunnels he used to meet with the commanders and thieves-for-hire. At least something good had come from the man besides Asher. Malek certainly wasn’t anything to be grateful for.
Narra slipped around the back of the three-story bar, which had two floors of a home atop the ground level establishment. An iron gate protected the back door, with a simple lock. They might as well not have the gate at all.
She pulled her lock pick set from the leather pocket at her thigh. The long metal pieces slipped inside the lock and spun with each flick of her nimble fingers.
Click .
She withdrew her picks. The gate creaked open. Narra nudged the back door wide and stepped inside. The flicker of a low flame in a lone lantern lit her way. Delicately carved cabinets, made from dark wood from the forests north of the city lined each wall. Expensive. Marble lay atop the counters, pale and smooth. She ran her fingers along the surface, free of dust. Quite a clean establishment, even for the rich.
Narra made her way carefully through the kitchen, stepping gently on the polished floorboards. None squeaked—they were far too new—until she reached a ruby rug next to a broom closet.
She crouched low and with a snap of her wrist, she yanked back the fuzzy carpet. A trap door waited below.
Narra smiled and pulled the door up. It creaked as she leaned it back against the broom closet doors. She froze and glanced at the kitchen door. She couldn’t be sure if the stairs were on the other side of that door or the dining room. The front room had been far too dark when she passed by the windows.
She waited a few moments, heart pounding in her ears.
Nothing.
She breathed a sigh of relief and snatched the bronze lantern from the counter. The metal chilled her fingers, even as she drew the flame higher. Hovering at the black mouth of the tunnel, she lowered the lantern inside. A narrow set of old wooden planks led into a brick passage. She descended the stairs, lowering the carpet and the door as she went. The door shut softly, hardly a whisper.
The dirt floor crunched beneath her boots. She held the lantern to the dark tunnel spread out before her. The palace and the emperor waited.
Damp cold clung to her cheeks as she hurried down the dark corridor. Long minutes felt like hours in the tight space, but at the far end an identical staircase emerged with a trapdoor in the ceiling. She smiled.
Finally .
Narra turned the lantern low and mounted the steps. They creaked beneath her weight. Pausing at the door, she set the lamp on a step and withdrew a dagger—just in case trouble lay on the other side.
Her heart raced. She pushed gently against the trapdoor, the wood rough against her fingertips. Warm light spilled inside the dark tunnel. Beyond, a small stove burned in the corner, an iron grate keeping the embers within. She opened it further.
Worn wooden floors spread out on either side, a dark gray carpet covering the trapdoor. She glanced around the small space.
No murmurs, no voices, just the crackle of flames in the hearth. She sighed and stepped into the small room. Several wooden chairs encircled a round table. Playing cards and empty glasses sat abandoned. The servants had already gone to bed.
Luck was on her side .
Narra shut the door and returned the carpet to its rightful place, smoothing its corners along the floor. Warmth filled her limbs and set free the cold.
Emperor Zaneth and thieves from long ago had once used the same tunnel for secret meetings in the night. Had the servants wondered what the emperor was sneaking off to do? They most likely thought he was bedding a mistress, as he did have at least one bastard: Asher.
She slipped from the small room and into the corridor. Dark stone walls rose on either side. A cold breeze brushed the nape of her neck. She shivered. None of the warmth followed her to the hall. Narra listened carefully as she worked her way down the hall and into the servant’s stairwell. The narrow space was hardly suitable for running up and down with dishes, laundry or whatever else the palace dwellers requested. How many times had the maids tripped or stubbed their toes on the stone steps? She shook her head. She didn’t have time for this.
The staircase wound up and up from the bowels of the palace, onto the main level. Footsteps and the shake of armor had Narra plastered to the wall.
Two distinct stomps marched in unison, one much heavier than the other. Her palms sweat, and she gripped her dagger tighter. The jostling of their armor passed by the opening at the top of the staircase only a few inches from her shoulder.
Their footsteps faded down the hall, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
She’d never been this deep into enemy territory before. The Barracks had been close, but not quite as daunting as the Imperial Palace. She hadn’t a clue where she would find the emperor at this hour, if he’d be alone, or if she’d even get out alive.
Her heart sank into her stomach.
She wouldn’t be caught this time. Her father wouldn’t distract her. His pestering murmur hadn’t said a thing in hours, but she knew deep in her bones he wasn’t gone yet.
Narra slipped into the hall, a maroon rug muffling her footsteps. Gold vases and dark wood tables lined the hall. Paintings of Emperor Malek, his father, and daughters led her way.
She paused before the heart-shaped face and beautiful hazel eyes of Marina. Her gaze was even, her smile only slight. No bruises marked her cheeks.
And they never would again.
Her fists clenched as she
stormed into the next hall. The rustle of armor and heavy steps were distant there. Good. She turned toward the center of the palace. Tapestries graced the walls and thick silk curtains blocked each wide window. She passed arch after arch until twin oak doors, cast in iron edgings and ornate handles, blocked her path. She paused at the doors. A narrow crack between the doors lay open for her snooping.
Pressing her face to the door, she peered through.
A long red carpet continued from the hall, down the length of the huge throne room, ending at a raised platform with two thrones atop it. Marble floors glinted in the pale moonlight filtering in from the two-story windows. Pillars lined the walls, holding up the domed ceiling.
A man in a thick red robe, trimmed with white fur and gold stitching paced from west to east. His leather boots with the tiniest of heels clacked against the floor. Brown curls fell to his shoulders, and a gold crown sat atop his head.
The emperor.
Narra froze, heat rising from her gut and into her chest. Her heart beat loudly, echoing in her ears. She was surprised it didn’t echo off the walls and alert the emperor’s guards to her presence.
This was it.
Narra widened the crack just enough to slip inside before she closed the great doors behind her. She turned slowly and withdrew her dagger from the folds of her cloak.
The emperor continued to pace, until she stepped from the shadow of the arched doors. He started, his brows furrowing. He didn’t cry for help, didn’t pull his rapier from his hip or lunge for safety .
Instead, his gaze roamed her form from head to toe. With her cloak over her shoulders, he leered at her curves—lust clouding his eyes.
She bit her tongue against her disgust.
“Good evening,” he said. His voice was husky like his eldest daughter Elena’s had been. The emperor stood tall, tilting his chin as if he expected her to bow.
She did not.
Malek smiled, his lips twisting, taunting. “You’re much prettier than your poster.”
Narra raised an eyebrow. So, he knew who she was. Then, he knew what she was capable of. Narra stepped forward. He froze.
“Are you here for money or my crown?” He met her gaze. “You’re a thief, aren’t you? I can give you much more than the Thieves Guild ever could. Riches beyond your wildest dreams.” He smirked.
“I don’t want your riches .” She smoothed her expression as her knuckles whitened on the hilt of her blade.
He frowned. “You could use your skills for so much more than petty thievery. I could use a girl like you.” Again, his eyes roamed her body.
She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “No.”
Malek sighed. “What a waste of a pretty face.”
Narra bristled. Her fire flared to life.
Keep talking , she urged him. Narrowing her eyes, she waited. The more he spoke, the easier it became to end him.
Don’t do it, Narra , her father whispered.
She squeezed her dagger.
You’ll only hurt yourself, and the Guild.
Her eyebrows squeezed together. Suddenly the voice disapproved? She shook her head. The voice wasn’t her father. It wasn’t even real. But this knife, this rage—they were real. The bruises on Marina’s cheeks were real.
A commander is always calm, Narra. Always patient. This isn’t the way.
Narra shook her head. Her mind spun with words she couldn’t discern from her own thoughts. Her blood pounded hard in her ears, blocking out all sound. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked hard to rid the blur from her vision.
“Hm.” Malek placed his hand not on his rapier, but his hip. “Little girl… You could use your talents to better this empire. You could do so much, help so many. Anything you do to me will come back to you and your Guild. Use your skills for me, for the people. Use them for Rova, and your name will go down in history.”
She looked back up at the emperor—or what had once been Emperor Malek. Instead, the man had morphed into an image of her father, his nose slightly crooked, his eyes large and blue like the ocean, and his hair silver.
Quinn Reiner smirked at her from across the room. “Commanders don’t murder people, Narra. Killing Ezriel was for the Guild… but this… this is for your own vendetta.” His voice. The same voice that was in her head came from her father’s own mouth. He walked slowly, purposefully, his hands held behind his back. Though she had to be hallucinating, she couldn’t help thinking it had been a long time since she’d seen her father sober.
“Shut up,” she whispered. Her eyes burned and her mind raced. This wasn’t real. It had happened before. It had almost gotten her killed before. “Just, shut up .”
Quinn tilted his head, a taunting smile spreading across his clean-shaven face. “Why, Narra? Because you know I’m telling the truth? Because you know this isn’t about revenge, or his tyranny over the empire? This is about Marina .” He rolled his eyes. Her own damn hallucination was mocking her.
Narra’s heart sank.
“This is about your little infatuation with a pretty girl.” Quinn shook his head. “I never thought you’d fall for someone so vain and corrupt.”
“This has nothing to do with her.” The moment the words left her lips, she knew it was a blatant lie. The only reason she was there to kill the emperor was because of Marina.
“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself.” Quinn stepped closer, taking a handful of her hair, and lifting it up to his face. He sniffed it and smiled. “Just like your mother’s.” He shook his head. “She was a fool, just like you.”
Narra stepped back. Her fingers trembled on the hilt of her dagger. “Shut up !”
Quinn laughed. “What are you going to do with that? Kill me?”
Tears burned her eyes and her hands shook with rage. She wanted to so badly. For her entire life she wanted to stand up to him, to tell him enough was enough, and his control over her was over. Yet, even though she knew for a fact he was gone, there she was having a conversation with a dead man.
“You’re dead,” she whispered. “You aren’t real.”
Her father held her shoulders. He didn’t feel like a hallucination. He felt as real as the breath in her lungs. Quinn stepped away, shaking his head. “Just like your mother.”
Fury the size of a firestorm shot through her limbs and into her fingers. “Shut up! ” she screamed.
Her blade flew from her hand, and thunked into his chest.
Quinn looked back at her with surprise before looking down at the dagger. Blood welled around the hilt, spilling down his white shirt. He looked back up at her and fell to his knees.
Her hallucination disappeared, no longer Quinn Reiner, but the master of the empire. Emperor Malek collapsed, blood pooling around his still body. His crown fell, tumbling across the floor at her feet. The brilliant gold winked in the warm light of the torches lining the throne room.
That’s my daughter .
Warmth brushed her neck. She shivered and glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing.
She turned her gaze back on the emperor. What in Srah’s name just happened?
The clicking of heels raced up the hall. She spun. The great doors to the throne room crashed open and Marina burst inside.
A gasp flew from the princess’s lips, and her eyes flashed wide. Her gaze shifted between her father, dead on the floor, and Narra, his crown at her feet.
Narra’s heart hammered in her ears as Marina came further into the throne room. Her vanilla scent drifted up Narra’s nose as she passed. Marina paused by the red slowly melting across the marble, as if she were about to kneel and mourn her father. Instead, she turned to Narra and threw her arms around her neck.
“Thank you,” Marina whispered, her breath hot on Narra’s ear.
Narra laid her hands gently on her back, pulling the princess close to her chest. Memories of Erik as a child, embracing her even as she was covered in his father’s blood, flashed before her eyes. He’d said the same thing
to her then as Marina did now. Narra’s heart swelled, and her eyes burned.
It was over. Finally . Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, the ghost of her father was washed away, or at least she hoped.
She squeezed Marina tightly, fighting back the tears of relief that threatened to burn her cheeks. She’d done it for Marina. She’d killed Erik’s father long ago for him, and now she’d killed another parent for their sins against their child. Though she’d thought it was her father she was killing, instead she’d killed Marina’s abuser. The act finally allowed Narra to separate herself from her abuser at last.
Marina’s warmth pressed against Narra, holding on tight, her fingers squeezing the edges of Narra’s cloak.
Narra leaned back slightly, and Marina’s hazel eyes—large, warm, and grateful—met her own. Heat rose inside her, warming her belly. Narra pressed her lips to the princess’s mouth, her hand finding Marina’s silky curls.
The princess smiled into the kiss and ran her fingers through Narra’s hair, pausing at the base of her head to pull her closer. Narra gasped against her lips, pressing her hips forward. Marina’s tongue slipped in. Her rational mind fled, and there was just Marina—hot to the touch, curves pressing against her own, and lips eager.
Whatever she felt for Marina was real. It was passion, strength, and heat. Even if they hardly knew each other, she didn’t need anything else .
But with the emperor dead on the floor, Narra wasn’t done protecting Marina. The image of his blood pooling across the throne room floor made her freeze.
Narra leaned back, eliciting a soft groan of protest from the princess.
Marina’s heavy breath brushed her cheeks, and her fingers left tracks of heat over Narra’s collarbone. The princess’s fingers wrapped around the front of her shirt, and pulled her back. Narra kissed her quickly before parting them again.
“I have to go,” Narra whispered.
Marina’s eyes widened. “What?”
“If I don’t, I’ll be caught, or worse, we could be caught together. I won’t let them blame this on you.”
Clockwork Thief Box Set Page 27