Page 4 of A Thieving Curse

“Raelyn? Gareth?”

Raelyn’s eyes went wide, and Gareth groaned as they slowed to a stop. She peeked over her shoulder at Nathaniel. Their younger brother stood in front of an open door several paces behind them, his arms full of books. As usual, his dark blond curls were perfectly arranged, and his bright blue tunic lay smoothly over his lanky fourteen-year-old frame. Put-together in a way their parents wished Raelyn and Gareth would be.

“Where are you going?” Nate demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“Time to run!” Gareth took off, dragging her along. She struggled to keep up with his longer legs. Why did she have to end up short?

“Stop!” Nate’s cry echoed after them, followed by a crash of books. “You two are in so much trouble!”

They ran down hallways, careening around corners and past dusty sets of display armor and massive oil paintings. Gareth pushed her into a darkened corridor, and she tripped over the hem of her dress.

“Careful.” He grabbed her arm to steady her but didn’t slow. “Go, go!”

Breathless but grinning, Raelyn gathered up her heavy skirt. They dashed down the hall that ended at the entrance to the south-east tower stairwell. She yanked on the cold ring handle. The door didn’t budge.

“Let me.” Gareth nudged her aside, pulled a key out of his belt, and unlocked the bolt. He opened the door, stopping before it hit the spot where the hinges always groaned, and darted inside the tower.

Raelyn followed and drew the door closed. Gareth had already started up the tower. She tucked her thick skirt into her belt and climbed the narrow, winding stone steps, keeping her right hand pressed to the interior wall for balance. The uneven granite was damp, a tribute to the overcast day. Pale sunlight filtered in through thin arrow loops, providing a feeble illumination to the stairs.

She loved the tower stair. How their footsteps echoed, how she could hear the faint refrains of birds in the courtyard. The way it constantly curved, and anything could hide beyond the next bend. The winding ascent made her feel the stair may go on forever, right into the clouds. It offered a manufactured sense of excitement to her regimented days of tiring lessons, hours of embroidery and calligraphy, and tedious etiquette training.

After a few minutes of climbing, the steps crept close to the wood trapdoor in the ceiling. Their bag rested on the top step where they had left it after their last escape. Gareth pushed open the hatch to gray skies. The muted sunlight played up the golden tinge to his short brown hair.

After Gareth climbed through, she handed him the sack, and he helped her up. Atop the turret, a chill breeze rustled the loose strands of her long blonde braid and brought goosebumps to her arms. She turned to Gareth. “Why is it so cold?”

“If it was summer, you’d complain it’s too hot.” Gareth pulled a couple heavy wool cloaks out of the sack and tossed one to her. The moment she wrapped herself in it, the brisk atmosphere lost some of its bite.

The rhythmic tap of the guards’ boots moved toward them and faded away again on the battlements of the castle walls to the left and right below the turret. Gray clouds hid the sky and diffused the sunlight.

Raelyn stepped up to the crenellations, leaned forward between two merlons, and closed her eyes. She loved the top of the south-east tower the most. It was the castle’s tallest point, and on a clear day, she could see for miles. Up here in the fresh air, where the noise of the courtyard couldn’t reach, the weight of royal life fell away. If she dreamed a little, she could even imagine what it would feel like to fly.

Mostly, she loved that only she and Gareth ever went up there. On this turret, they were just siblings. No titles, no expectations.

“You know,” she said as she sat next to him, huddling out of the wind under a merlon, “Nate’s going to tattle.”

“Sure, but they don’t know I stole the key from Father’s study. They’ll look here last.” Gareth twisted the sack in his hands, its remaining contents poking at odd angles into the sides. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

Disappointment squeezed her chest. She had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, that she could have a little time pretending her marriage and separation from her family wasn’t imminent. She watched a hawk circling in the distance, silent for a moment before answering. “Yes. I’ve been preparing for years.”

“I’m not ready.” His face was strained as he stared at the bag in his hands.

“You’re not the one getting married. What do you have to be ready for?” She laughed, but he didn’t.

“Rethalyon’s so far away. We’ll probably never see each other again.” Gareth looked at her, all frivolity gone. “What if you need me? What if the prince isn’t good to you? What if I need to protect you and…I can’t?”

Raelyn forced a light-hearted laugh and swatted his arm. “Be honest. You’re worried you’ll be bored without me.”

“Naw, I’ll finally leave and find a monster to slay.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I wish you could marry a nice Eynlaean noble and live nearby.”

“Oh, relax. You’re accompanying us to Rethalyon; if you don’t like him, we’ll call the whole thing off.” She grinned, but the same fears stalked her thoughts. They both knew there was no calling off a wedding stipulated by a treaty, especially not one that granted Eynlaeans the right to use critical trade routes through Rethalyon. Breaking the pact would risk war. She might not be excited for the marriage, but she had no desire to shirk this duty.

“Hilarious.” Gareth rolled his eyes.

She took the bag from him and withdrew a tome and a leather flask. “I came up here to avoid this kind of talk, you know.”

“I know. I just started thinking…it won’t be the same up here…after.” He sighed and accepted the flask. After a long drink, he handed it back.

At least you’ll still have up here. Only one of them would return home after their journey, and it wasn’t her. She drank, the weak red wine at once refreshing and slightly bitter. Years ago, stealing wine had been their hysterical non-secret, because every time they managed it, their tutors could tell. Now that they were older and often had wine with dinner, it didn’t make her tipsy anymore. She elbowed him.

---