Page 67 of Thief of Souls
“I should never have confronted Rhea the first time.” I grind my thumbs up under the hollow sockets of my eyes. “I knew she’d return the favor. I just didn’t know how.”Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.“I failed the Third Rule of Thieves Code: Don’t ever get involved.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“You rescued a servant from a fate over which she had no control,” he says quietly. “I don’t consider that a failure, Mira. I consider it an act of courage.”
I drag my hands lower.He knows about that?“How did you—?”
Keir’s lashes shield his eyes. “I heard talk of it. The ladies of the court think you jealous. But in the serving halls, they whisper of your bravery.” He looks up. “I like the fact you fought for someone who didn’t have the means to fight her own battles. You can call yourself an honorless thief, Mira, but I see your heart.”
Grabbing the pillow, I try and smother my face with it. “That’snota compliment. Someone like me cannot afford to have a heart.”
Keir tugs the pillow down. “If you don’t care about others, then what’s the point of living?”
It makes me grit my teeth. He has no idea what it’s like to be powerless and forced to obey the whims of others. “How kind of you to say so…. You, who stands at the top of the rule of order. You, who could crush this entire court into pieces if you will it….”
“You think it’s any easier to wield such power and keep yourself in check?” A hot flush of anger brightens his cheekbones. “You’re right. I could destroy this court and every fae in it. I could obliterate this entirekingdomwith a mere thought. Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind at times. But I’m the one who has to look myself in the mirror every morning. I’m the one who looks at Malechus and sees what I could become if I were to lose the very core of what makes me honorable. The choice to care—to have a heart—is the only thing that restrains me.”
I’m too tired to argue with him.
And maybe the arguments I’m voicing are only echoes of my father’s voice.
There is no kindness in the Court of the Forbidden.
But nobody’s managed to quite beat it out of me yet.
“Fine. You win.” I toss the blankets back. “I need to… wash my face.”
He lets me stagger toward the wash chambers. “I had to take your dress off. It was soaked. But that’s all, Mira. I promise.”
Cheeks burning, I duck inside the wash chamber. I’m still wearing my undergarments from last night. It’s a little bit of a relief, despite the fact it’s all seen better days.
Until I see my reflection in the mirror.
“Well, if that’s not going to chase him away….”
I take care of the necessities, then wash my entire body of its cold sweat. The last to go is the remnants of last night’s powder from my face, including the thick kohl that seems to have migrated down to my cheeks. I can’t get it all off. My face looks like some sort of weird frog that has eyes painted in the middle of its back to warn off predators. It will have to do.
Slipping into my dressing gown, I tie it around my waist and venture back out.
“Here.” Keir moves away from the bed on cat-silent feet, crossing toward a small cart I hadn’t noticed. “Breakfast. Or lunch. I assume you’re ravenous.”
Oddly enough, I’m not.Me. Who’s spent every gathering so far at this court perusing the banquet table. I know he’s noticed my love affair with honeyed breads and lemon cakes—every time I’ve licked the icing from my fingers, I’ve looked up to see him watching.
But food is a privilege.
You never know when you’re going to get another mouthful. And if there’s one thing I enjoy about these missions my father sends me on, it’s that I get to eat and drink whatever I can steal.
Zemira Ashburn. The White Wraith. The Greatest Thief in the Blessed lands.
And the best heist I’ve ever pulled off was one that saw me forced to hide in a chocolatier’s shop.
I can still taste the caramels.
He sets a tray on the bed as I climb back into it, lifting the silver cloche as he sinks onto the mattress.
I try not to think about the muscles shifting in those powerful thighs. He’s wearing his riding leathers again—evidently there’s another hunt on the cards for today—and while I’m sure they’re exquisitely useful in avoiding saddle chafe, they stir remnants of the rapture within me.
Too large. Too close. Too… male.
