Page 15 of Fateless

He did, stepping over the threshold and fully into my room, causing my stomach to start those crazy cartwheels again. What was happening here? Jeran had been in my room before; this wasn’t anything new. Why was I having such crazy reactions to his presence? Because of that one moment on the rooftop? That had just been a second, and nothing had really happened.

Maybe something would happen now.

Jeran’s dark eyes studied my face. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You look... scared.” One hand rose and gently brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, sending a tingle all the way up my spine. “Anything you want to talk about?”

My heart thudded in my ears. He was so close; his clothes smelled of dust and the spiced wine he liked to order at the bar. His long fingers moved from my hair to the edge of my hood, starting to brush it back.

Fear prickled the back of my neck, the anxiety of having myface exposed rising to the surface. I stepped away quickly, taking myself and my hood out of his reach. I couldn’t think aboutthisnow; I had to be completely focused for what I had to do. Distractions would get me killed. “It’s nothing,” I said, and Jeran immediately dropped his arm. “I have another job, that’s all.”

“Another job? From the Guildmaster?” Jeran shook his head, his demeanor turning sullen. “Must be nice,” he muttered. “Years of working for the guild, doing everything he asks without screwing up, and it’s still not enough for him to take notice. Maybe if I was a girl, he’d pay more attention to me.”

“Jeran...” I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I had my own troubles to focus on without having to listen to his jealousy issues. “Trust me,” I told him, “I’m not at all eager to do this next job. I’d trade it to you in a heartbeat if I could.”

“So why don’t you?” Jeran asked. I blinked at him, and he shrugged. “Give the job to me,” he reasoned. “We’ll say we did it together. I’ll even share the credit with you.”

I grimaced. “I can’t do that.”

“You mean you won’t.” Jeran’s voice was morose again. “Because you like the attention. Because it means you keep getting to be the Guildmaster’s favorite.”

“Goddess, will you stop with the hard-on for Vahn,” I snapped. “It’s not like that at all. This job isn’t even from him, anyway.”

Oops—I hadn’t meant to say that. I desperately hoped Jeran would drop the whole subject out of embarrassment, but his eyes narrowed and he instantly pounced on my last statement.

“Wait. If you’re not doing it for Vahn, who are you doing it for? He’s the Guildmaster. He gives the... oh.”

Jeran was smart. Or at least, incredibly perceptive when it came to rank and prestige within the guild. I could see him putting two and two together and guessing the identity of the mysterious client. His expression darkened even more, and his eyes went cold.

“Jeran,” I began, but he looked away and took a step back.

“I get it.” His voice was flat, sounding like a stranger’s. “So eventhey’retaking notice of your accomplishments now. Congratulations.” Even angry, he knew better than to openly discuss the Circle with anyone. “You’re really moving up in the guild. Be sure to remember us petty thieves when you get rich.”

I ground my teeth, wanting to tell him that working for the Circle was not the prestigious position he thought it was. It was, instead, quite terrible and frightening, and I would give anything not to have to do the mission they were sending me on. But there was nothing I could say that would salvage this conversation, so I simply said, “I think you should go now, Jeran.”

“Yeah.” For the briefest of moments, a glimmer of regret, maybe even shame, crossed his face. Taking another step back, he paused, as if he was going to say something else. But then he ducked his head, left the room, and shut the door behind him.

Confused and, for some reason, a little sad, I sat down on my cot again and scrubbed a hand over my face. Jeran had always teased me about being “the favorite child” in the guild, and though his pokes were sometimes sharper than they needed to be, we’d never actually fought about it. He’d sounded more than irritated tonight; he’d sounded bitter and angry, as if he truly resented me.

Lying back on my cot, I stared at the ceiling, my brain swirling in aimless, chaotic circles. Eventually, out of sheer frustration, I hopped up and went down to the tavern, hoping I wouldn’t meet Jeran or Vahn on the way.

“A bit early for beer, little dust sparrow,” Rala said, smiling as she slid a tankard across the counter toward me. I grabbed the mug and emptied half of it immediately, feeling it hit my empty stomach like a rock. It did nothing to drown the fear coiled around my insides.

Lowering my arm, I found Rala watching me in concern. Her kind brown eyes took in my face, my messy, tousled clothes, the half-empty tankard in my hand, and her expression softened. “Another job?” she guessed.

I nodded.

“Something for Vahn?”

“Sort of.”

Her nails drummed the counter. “Jeran was in here earlier, drowning himself in d’wevryn ale. Boy was in a sulk that put Dahveen to shame. I assume he knows?”

I nodded again, feeling a fresh bloom of annoyance, confusion, and hurt at the reminder.

Rala sighed. “Sparrow,” she said, and hesitated, as if debating whether to share whatever information she had. “Jeran is... well, he is crazy about you, you know that, right?”

I snorted. “No, he’s not,” I protested. “I’ve known him forever. If he is, he never shows it.”

“Of course not,” Rala said. “He’s a boy. A very confused boy, trying to reconcile his feelings for you with his desire to be thevery best in the guild. He tries so hard to be noticed, to get Vahn to see his accomplishments. Unfortunately, there is someone standing in his way.”

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