Page 56 of Wicked Thieves
Eventually, he said, “About what happened to the shop…”
Anelize blew out a breath. “The folk, for all their fears of receiving the wrath of the Watchmen, don’t mind taking their own twisted sense of justice into their hands when they want to. The shop wasn’t the first place affected by the aftermath of a Vedran being discovered living amongst them. I doubt there was hardly anything that could have been done if one of us had tried to stop it.”
“It doesn’t mean you are not within your right to be hurt by it,” he asserted, wrapping her hand one more time. “It doesn’t make it right.”
“Perhaps not.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was as Henry said before, that the folk don’t truly know the difference between their fear and their prejudice. Their cruelty masked by their own misery. It is easier to hate, to lose oneself to bitterness, than to accept they are just as much to blame for their docility. That unwillingness to fight back. Those who do, ultimately suffer the consequences.”
He stilled as if he could already sense where her thoughts were heading, before she said, “Maybe if I hadn’t run that day. If I had stayed and let the Watchmen take me, then the shop and my aunt—no matter how cruel she had been to us over the years—they would both still be here.”
Maybe then, she would have been with Enid and they’d be miserable and locked away, but they’d be together. As they had always been.
Fingers curled beneath her chin, forcing her to lift her head.
“Look at me.” Aeric’s voice was rough. His words demanding.
His eyes were burning as though the flames he could conjure had been captured within them. Fierce, unyielding, capable of burning anything in their path.
“You are not to blame for the cruelty of this world, Anya. I know not all that you’ve been subjected to in this life before we met, nor will I pretend to understand the pain that you have been forced to endure. But I know in my twisted, undeserving heart that is true. Nothing more and nothing less.”
A knot formed in her throat, constricting her much like a viper would, wrapping around and around until no air kissed her lungs, filling them full of life. Listening to his words, feeling the sincerity in them as surely as she felt all her grief and regret—it eased those parts within herself. Enough that she could breathe.
Then she confessed, “I can’t lose more than I already have, Aeric. I fear—I fear that if I do, if I were to fail in saving my sister, I’m not sure if I could survive beyond that. Not that. All these years, I thought I needed to protect her, but in truth I am the one who cannot breathe, cannot live without her. Not truly. And now, I am nothing until I can hold her in my arms again.”
His hand reached up and he ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear that she hadn’t felt escape.
“I will do everything in my power to ensure she is safe. Until we can get her and the others out. You have my word.”
She wanted to believe him.
For the first time, she wished for nothing more.
19
The sound of a thundering boom woke Anelize, making her jump upright with her heart in her throat. She blinked with bleary eyes when she realized she’d fallen asleep at the vanity. Vials with Castian’s tonics were strewn about the table, the candle she’d lit flickering as the wax melted down the holder. Her hands rested atop the pages she’d taken to scribbling her findings on which remedies have helped the prince the most. She must have been so exhausted she’d barely realized she had dozed off with thoughts of Aeric after she bid him good night. Glancing over her shoulder to see that he’d remained in the chair, staring into the flames deep in thought.
The sound of rain falling and thunder rumbling beyond her window made her breathe out a sigh. Running a hand over her face, she made to rise from the uncomfortable chair and sink into the bed when she froze. When she saw a strange, shimmering light that did not belong to the lightning flashing outside the window or the candle.
Anelize felt her breath catch in her throat as she leaned toward the mirror and placed trembling fingers over her cheeks. To her eyes that were no longer a rich brown color, but a pale blue that appeared luminous. As if the moon itself had been caught within them.
And then, stepping into the brilliant light behind her through the reflection of the mirror, she saw her. The gauntface of a woman wrapped in a tattered cloak. The scent of rot filling the air as she stepped closer, parted her cracked lips, and said, “Everything must come at a cost. And I have waited a long time for you, Anelize Yarrow.”
Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision as she stared at the woman—the Weaver—as she melded back into the darkness once more. Her voice a hiss as it faded away.“Time is running out. You must hurry.”
And as the light within her eyes faded, Anelize found she was lost to the nothingness that awaited her. Where she saw nothing at all.
Until she awoke in her bed with a scream.
“Saints, you look like death itself,” Adan muttered when he deigned to appear in the stables a few minutes after he’d told her to meet him here.
Sleep had not come to her last night, as much as she would have liked. After the nightmare she had, seeing the Weaver again, the last thing she’d wanted was to close her eyes. To her relief, the pale morning light pouring into her room had welcomed her and she finally had an excuse to get out of bed.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” she grumbled, stepping into their circle without giving it much thought. The habit having been ingrained in her by his incessant barking.
While he didn’t look entirely convinced by her words, Adan commenced the lessons. This time she was able to stop him before he could so much as take one step forward. When she closed her eyes and felt him shift toward her, detecting his heart, she caught him before he could land a hand on hershoulder. When they went on to sparring, while she doubted that she’d ever truly be skilled in the art of hand-to-hand combat, she’d managed to get in a few hits before Adan taught her exactly why he was as hardened and cruel as he was by knocking her onto the ground more times than she could count. Her pride bruised more than her body.
