Page 110 of Realm of Thieves

Andor pulls me inside and Kirney quietly shuts the stairwell doorbehind us before we hurry to the shadows beneath a lumbering elderdrage statue, hidden from sight of anyone who might pass.

“Are you all right?” Andor whispers to me.

I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

“They’ll recover with only a headache,” Kirney assures me.

“It’s not that,” I say in a hush, aware of how silent this place really is. “It’s that her tongue was cut out. Can you imagine?”

“But it didn’t happen to you,” he says quietly. “And what’s one way to get back at this institution? Steal the prized possession that will give us the upper hand. Now come on, lavender girl. Let that anger fuel you. That’s what it does best.”

He’s right. I need to hold myself together. I give them a determined nod. “All right. Eyes on the prize, then.”

Unfortunately that means waiting in the shadows for the right opportunity to come along. We wait for a while under the dragon, breathing in the herbaceous air, studying the other dragon statues across from us, our wet clothes still dripping onto the tiles in a slowing rhythm. I can’t help but think about my time spent here, drowning in rage and grief, feeling so fucking lonely that I thought I would die. I suppose in some ways I’m proud of myself for actually surviving it and eternally grateful to my aunt for helping me escape.

She would have loved this, I think to myself, and for the first time since she died, my heart swells with gratitude for her, and the pain is kept at bay.She would have loved to join this team. She would have led the charge.

Footsteps break up my thoughts.

“Listen,” I whisper to the guys, but obviously they’ve already heard it from a mile away. The footsteps keep coming, growing closer, originating from behind us and down another hall. They build and build, along with small chatter that reminds me of squeaking rats. The older Daughters are no longer bound by the vow of silence, and I think this makes them talk more to make up for it.

“Get ready,” Andor says to me. “Pick off the easiest one. We’ll be waiting here for you when you get back with the egg.”

Then they enter our frame, the Sisters of the Highest Order, a dozen of them walking single file with large spaces between them, muttering a prayer over and over. I remember that prayer, the one that prayed for the wards to fall.

Their religion is based on the end of the world for everyone but them, I think bitterly.As if they’re that special.

We watch as they head toward the chapel. I don’t have much time to act.

I give the guys a knowing look and then we start running as quietly as possible along the backside of the dragons, between them and the obsidian walls.

I scurry along until I’m keeping pace with the last Sister in line, just before they’re all swallowed up by the mouth of the chapel. Then I quickly run across the aisle and grab her by the mouth, sword at her throat, pulling her back into the shadows before she has a chance to scream.

The woman squirms beneath my grip, but she’s weak, and I flip her over and press her to the cold floor, my hand still over her mouth, pressing the black veil into her lips as I straddle her. “I’m going to give you a choice,” I tell her, knowing I could just drag her back to Kirney for him to work his magic. “You make a sound, you die. You stay quiet, you just might live.”

The woman stops squirming and I take it as a sign that she wants to play nice. I remove the sword and my hand long enough to flip the veil up over her head.

And see Sister Marit staring back at me with cold beady eyes, her skin pale and sagging. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, but in pure fright. She wouldn’t recognize me with my long lilac hair.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” I sneer at her, holding the sword so the tip is pressed up under her chin. “But I remember you.The scars on my back remember you. The sound of a whip makes me remember you. And after this, you’ll certainly remember me.”

“I see,” she says, speaking slowly so that my sword doesn’t puncture her. “One of our flock who has fallen to the wolves.”

“I haven’t fallen to the wolves,” I sneer. “Iamthe wolf.”

She blinks at me, finally afraid.

I press the blade in deeper, enough to draw blood.

“Tell me where they keep the egg of immortality. Tell me and I won’t punish you in the way you deserve.”

“I would rather die,” Sister Marit says starkly, and in the coldness of her eyes, she means it.

Shewantsit. These lunatics have craved the superiority of death since the day they were born.

As much as I need—want—to slit her throat, I can’t give in to her.

“Andor, Kirney,” I whisper to the guys who have been hovering in the shadows. “Open her mouth.”

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