Page 23 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“And what would be worth it, to you?”

Kierse didn’t have an answer for that. But either way, she was done here.

“My jewelry.” Estelle held her hand out.

Kierse sighed and then dropped the ring and diamond bracelet in her palm. “If you insist.”

“And the coin.”

“You said jewelry,” Kierse said with a dangerous smile.

“I should have been more specific.”

Kierse flipped the coin to Estelle. She waited for Estelle to say something about the pin, but when she didn’t mention it, Kierse said over her shoulder, “Enjoy your games.”

“Before you go,” Estelle said, stopping Kierse at the door. “Are you actually married?”

Kierse put on a matching smile as she turned and said, “That would ruin the game, wouldn’t it?”

Chapter Eight

The wet terracotta roof was slick as Kierse hauled herself up onto it, barefoot. She took off at a quick clip as the rain settled into her hair and into the silk of her slip dress. She could not have selected a more inopportune outfit for the occasion. The promise of summer was destroyed by the chilly rain that sank into her skin. All she wanted were her warm black shirt and pants, some sturdy rubber-soled boots, and a waterproof jacket. Or perhaps just a warm fire and no more thieving for the night. Something she so rarely desired.

With no Graves in sight—so much for covering her exit—she hopped from one roof to the next, angling to get a few buildings away before finding her way back to street level. But the next tile she landed on slipped from her under foot, and she careened forward.

Before she crashed into the roof and slid off, an arm snaked out from behind her and caught her around the middle.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

“I’ve got you,” Graves said, low and commanding.

She shivered at the sound. Hated and loved how it affected her all the same. She lifted her gaze and found his dark eyes. He was back in his suit jacket and gloves. His midnight hair was soaked from the rain, and it dripped forward against her lips as he held her.

She coughed and scrambled unsteadily back to her feet. “There you are.”

“I was on my way to the room. You didn’t make the rendezvous.”

“As if you didn’t already know what happened,” she said, slapping the envelope on his chest.

He pulled back. “What’s this?”

“The information you wanted.”

“I wanted the cauldron.” He stuffed the envelope into an inside jacket pocket.

“Well, she didn’t have it. Which you already knew.”

“Why would I send you in there if the cauldron wasn’t there?” he demanded.

“Save me from trying to figure out your schemes, Graves.”

He straightened at her tone. “We were in this one together.”

“I thought so, too,” she said, exhausted. “Can we just get out of the cold? My magic is fucked.”

Graves’s jaw tightened. “Of course.”

Then he removed his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders. She didn’t even have it in her to reject it. She wanted to get off of this roof.

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