Page 132 of Realm of Thieves

I can tell she wants to defy me, but she pinches her mouth shut and nods.

“So, tell me, were you successful?” my father says, stopping in front of me. “Did you find the egg of immortality?”

“Yes,” Vidar says, and I’ve never seen my father’s eyes light up like that. “And no.”

My father frowns, a scowl already twisting his lips. That didn’t last long. “What do you mean, no?” he asks, his voice sharp and commanding.

“The heist was successful, thanks to Brynla,” I say to him. “We broke into the convent and she retrieved the egg. However, it was broken while Brynla was trying to save my life. She did save my life.”

I can feel Steiner staring at the back of my neck, and I silently plead for him to remain silent. He has such a hard time with lying, but we all decided that it was the best course of action with my father. I would take the blame for everything, but it would be an accident. We would tell him that the egg was destroyed while we were trying to escape. All of my crewmates agreed to this, as did the Freelanders unwittingly roped up in our affairs. Those Freelanders are now in Menheimr, attempting a fresh start at life, with Toombs and Kirney serving as their guides.

Vidar and Steiner were harder to convince, but I made it seem like my father would find a way to blame them both if the truth came out—that they let Brynla steal it from under their noses. Vidar wasfirst to acquiesce. Steiner took more convincing thanks to his moral code, but once I pointed out that our father would probably have Brynla killed, he finally agreed.

“Broken?” my uncle says with a sneer. “And you didn’t save any of the yolk?”

“They did,” Steiner speaks up. I look at my brother in surprise. “They saved the yolk and brought it back to me. But when I tried to extract and refine it on the ship, it had already turned. I’m guessing the egg was so old it lost its value the moment it was exposed to air. Even if we had saved the egg, there was nothing I could have done.”

Sweet, sweet Steiner. I’ve never been so relieved, or proud of him.

“I see,” my father says. “Well, that’s just terrible luck, isn’t it?” His hawk eyes fix on me as he starts to stroll forward, hands clasped behind his back. “Especially for you, Andor. Without the egg of immortality, we have nothing to bind Norland’s favor with Altus Dugrell. Nothing except you marrying Princess Frida.”

Brynla stiffens beside me, and I reach out and grab her hand, making it obvious for my father.

“Which I still refuse to do,” I say, squaring my shoulders, not letting him intimidate me anymore. “I will not marry Princess Frida.”

“Because of her.” He jerks his head to Brynla with a sneer, even though he refuses to look at her.

“Because of her,” I say. “Because I am not a puppet on a string. I am your son and I have my own life and dreams, dreams you have tried to shame me for ever since my mother died. We are your family, your children, your flesh and blood. Does none of that mean anything to you? Is there not a heart inside your chest, one that wants to be a father, not a ruler? Can you not see that your disdain for your own offspring is the very thing that will break this family apart instead of bringing us together?”

My father continues to stare at me, unblinking, so motionless thatI wonder how I could have come from him when my heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and I feel the ground is about to swallow me whole. Everything inside me is messy and chaotic and real and he’s just a statue with ice in his veins.

“Seize her,” he says coldly, and before I can register what’s happening, two guards come from behind my uncle and grab Brynla. She cries out, Vidar yells, and there’s chaos.

Lemi barks and shifts out of the carriage in front of Brynla, about to attack, but she quickly tells him with her intense gaze and flick of her wrist to stay put, not wanting him to get hurt.

He listens, sitting on his haunches but growling wildly, and the distraction provides me with an opportunity.

I grab my father from behind, my dagger already out and pressed against his neck.

“Let Brynla go or I will end him,” I command.

“Andor!” my uncle yells as he stumbles toward me. “Unhand him!”

“Stay back,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have the guts,” my father sneers.

“I have more guts than you’ll ever have,” I tell him, pressing the dagger in deeper, enough that he gasps and I know I’m drawing blood.

“Andor, please,” Vidar says, approaching me slowly with a show of his hands, as if I’m a wild horse. Perhaps I usually am, but even though my blood is whooshing in my head, my heart a frantic drum, I’m in complete control and thinking clearly.

“I will let him go,” I say. “I won’t hurt him any further. All he has to do is let Brynla go and promise that she is safe in this house, promise that he will never come after her. That he accepts that she is with me, the woman that I love, and there is no threat or disappointed look or hateful comment that would ever make me change my mind. I am not marrying the princess. I am choosing Brynla as mine, just as I will choose every other path in my life. Not for you, not for thesyndikat, but for me.” I swallow hard, meeting Brynla’s watery, fearful eyes. “For her.”

My father grunts, not saying anything.

I press the dagger in farther until he starts to squirm.

Everyone else is silent. Everyone is waiting for my father to yield.

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