Chapter 22
22
“ W hat was that nickname you had for me?” I asked, strolling forward to sit in the chair opposite Thorne. “Little Thief? That’s all fine and dandy as long as I get to call you a liar.”
“I’m sure you have questions. Let’s work through them.”
I did, of course. About a million. But none of them would be what he expected. Mainly, where was the portal he was hiding? Or what he knew of my path home.
I sat back, kicking my feet onto his desk, watching casually as a stack of papers fell to the floor. “No questions from me, liar . Let me just make sure I’m all caught up here.” I raised a finger. “You’re a wanted man, hiding in plain sight.” I raised a second finger. “You bait the prince to catch the Lord of the Salt because you think it’ll keep him from suspecting you.” A third finger. “The Fray have no idea who you are. Only your close circle of friends and maybe a few choice people selected for special jobs. Marik, for one, who’s planted into the biggest gossip in Stirling’s shop and given a tragic backstory to make him a charity case.” Another finger. “Aside from the murder, you’re really out here stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, while being rich yourself, just to throw everyone off. Does that about cover it? Oh, sorry, let me rephrase that. Does that about cover it, liar ?”
He scowled, his eyes flashing to the mess. “Just about.”
“Hate to break it to you, but it really wasn’t that big of a mystery. You’re all terrible liars.”
“You knew?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together.
“Of course I knew.”
“What gave us away? And do be specific.”
I shook my head, forcing a dark smile. “I’ll never tell.”
His hazel eyes, more brown than green in the dark room, scrutinized me for a moment before he stood and strode across the space, pausing at an old sideboard. There was something there in that look. Something that heated me more than I wanted it to.
He bent down, opening the doors to reveal an array of bottled spirits, and selected two, one a deep amber and the other a clear liquid, holding them up for my inspection. “Pick your poison,” he said, a glint of challenge dancing in his gaze.
I tilted my head to one side, considering. The darker was doubtlessly aged and of fine quality, the type of drink that warmed you from the inside more than his piercing gaze and brought an untamed burn with each sip. Yet the clear, it promised something different. Something unknown.
Blinking, I finally pointed to the amber. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he uncorked the bottle with his mouth and poured the two glasses. When he was finished, he brought the drink over to me. “You’re here because you have a choice to make. You’ve seen too much, and we need more than blind hope that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
Three knocks sounded on the door, followed by a pause and one more.
“Come in,” he said, his voice full of authority, though his eyes never left mine.
“She knows?” Harlow asked.
“She does. Though you could have given her more than a single hand of cards before you interrupted us.”
“Sorry boss,” Archer said, shuffling into the room and shutting the door behind him as he faced me. “You in?”
Thorne lifted a brow.
“I’m… listening,” I said, taking the glass Thorne held out, ignoring the way my skin burned where our fingers brushed. “Cheers, husband.”
“You don’t get to be a member of the Fray without an initiation.” His eyes swept over me. “I’m in charge. You don’t get a say. You don’t get an opinion. You do as you're told. Understand?”
“I said I was listening, that’s as much as you’re getting from me.”
“Hardly anyone knows the Fray exists. Those that do seldom bite the hand that feeds them. We don’t deal with leaked secrets well. If you get caught and even think about snitching, I’ll kill you myself before you ever get a chance to follow through. You want out, I’ll find the Story Snatcher and have him take your memories from the last few days. Decide now.”
I sipped the liquid, letting it burn a glorious path down my throat as he walked back across the room and poured drinks for everyone else. Sitting with what he’d said, I knew how careful I needed to be. How little I could actually trust any of them.
“I don’t do bargains.”
“This isn’t a bargain. It’s a choice. You’re in or out and that’s all there is to it. But if you stay, you earn your keep. Do you have magic you’ve been hiding, Paesha darling?”
The subtle gasp from Harlow could’ve been a roar in the quiet room. “Thorne.”
He threw his hand up without looking away from me, those glorious eyes burning. I couldn’t look away. Could hardly breathe before the man that commanded more than just the room. “We have to know the risk she poses.”
Having magic was a risk? Interesting.
“I don’t have magic,” I said.
His eyes lingered, searching for anything beyond the surface of my lie before he nodded. “Good girl. Hopefully that means Farris will get bored with you quickly.” He poured himself another glass and moved until he was directly in front of me, sitting on the edge of his desk as he looked down. “This is the Parlor. Owned by me, Thorne Noctus. It has nothing to do with the Lord of the Salt. In fact, he’s a bit of a nuisance around here.” He reached forward and took the empty glass from my hands, setting it on his desk before he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. “Now, the decision is yours. In or out.”
If Thorne was being hunted by gods and I’d been sent to find him, maybe that meant other gods were helping hide him. And if that were the case, if the fates were as real as he seemed to believe, and my path lay with him, maybe I could actually pull this off. Maybe I really could get home, reunite with Quill, and save the realms while I was at it. Minimally, this gave me guaranteed shelter while I worked out where I was supposed to be.
I took a deep, calming breath before standing, swiping Thorne’s drink from his hand and tossing it back. “I’m in.”
Archer held his glass out to me from the door. “Welcome to the chaos.”
“I knew you’d join,” Harlow said, pulling a small dagger from her pocket, expertly flipping it in her hand and holding it out toward me. “I got you a present. If you get into a jam, stick them with the pointy end.”
I hesitated, scrutinizing Harlow more than I had before. “Are you secretly a badass, blondie?”
“Don’t let it get to her head.” Archer smiled. “She hates people and dresses and always has a weapon handy.”
“Pants are so much more practical,” she said, taking her own drink.
“If we could get back to the point here.” Thorne reclaimed the seat behind the desk. “We don’t have a lot of time. Paesha, you take your cues from Archer tonight. This job cannot fail. There are months of work riding on it. Your role is the same as it has been. You’re my new wife.” He smiled, showing the rare dimple as his eyes narrowed. “You’re madly in love with me. Your goal is to distract Archer’s target with your… charm. I’m sure you can find some of that somewhere if you dig deep enough.”
I walked forward, careful to tread over the pile of papers on his floor as I sank back into the seat across from him. “Do you keep it dark in here for the act? Does it make you feel more important? Because I can hardly see you and I don’t like making plans in the dark. Feels wrong.”
“Don’t be difficult,” he said. “This is serious. We can’t have mistakes.”
“What’d you say? I can’t see you.”
I loved pushing that man’s buttons, and he made it so, so easy.
Harlow’s laugh surprised me. She walked forward and spun a small knob on the wall. Several lamps bloomed to life, their flames warming the space. “It really is creepy when you keep it so dark.”
Thorne’s lips formed a thin line.
“Back to business. When you say ?madly in love’, where do I rank on a scale of noticeable adoration to dangerously obsessive? Just so I’m clear.”
Something flashed across his face. A look I hadn’t seen from him before, not confusion, nor calculating. Not an emotion at all. Just a light that answered before his words did. “Dangerously obsessive would be a hard level to prove.”
I smirked, running my finger over the knife Harlow had given me. “Would it?”
“Thaaaat’s actually creepy,” Archer said, reaching to take the blade. “Let’s maybe have a lesson with weapons before we start playing with them.”
“What are we stealing?” I asked, sliding the dagger into its sheath and pocketing it before he could take it. I knew my way around a blade well enough.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Thorne answered. “You’ve got a pretty face. Use it. Don’t press boundaries. Don’t stray from the plan. Prove you can do the job without messing it up, then we’ll decide what use you’ll have to the team.”
“I’m more than just a pretty face, Thorne.”
He leaned closer, folding his hands. “I’m sure you’d like to think so.”
“Better watch that mouth of yours. It’d be such a shame if your obsessive wife stabbed you in your sleep.”
“I’d love to see her try.”
“You certainly do strike me as the kind of man that would prefer to watch.”
He grinned, his gaze flicking to my lips. “Only if you put on a good show.”
I arched a brow, leaning in just close enough to make him hold his breath. “Careful, there. I never do anything half-heartedly.”
“Good. I’d hate to be underwhelmed.”
“You two need a minute? It seems like maybe you need a minute,” Archer said, backing toward the door.
“Don’t be silly. We’re just flirting,” I answered, eyes glued to Thorne. “Isn’t that right, husband?”
His dimple was showing again. “Indeed… Shall we?”
I stood, straightening the sleeve of my gown as he circled the desk and offered me an arm. Batting my eyelashes, I managed a small curtsy before taking it. “Lead the way, handsome.”
Thorne led us down the stairs, into an alcove hiding a door to a room clearly only meant for his staff. He left shortly after, giving a warning about the importance of our mission, but no additional information.
The room itself was much larger than I expected and just as grand as the Parlor. Mirrors lined one wall from floor to ceiling, amplifying the glorious array of textiles and disguises before me. Sconces lined the space, all but one identical in finish. Beyond those, garments hung from hangers like leaves from a tree in autumn.
Archer’s instructions were thorough and clear as we stood side by side, peeking out into the giant room full of impeccably dressed Silk. “All you have to do is come join the conversation and be friendly. See that platform in front of the table?”
I nodded, eyes tracing over the gold box at the head of a round table surrounded by high-back, leather chairs.
“Old Victor loves a beautiful woman and with a dancer in front of him on the platform and the attention of the Paramour, who happens to be Thorne’s new and mysterious bride, he won’t be able to keep his wits about him. When I’ve got the bag, I’ll stretch. When you see the signal, you can go. If he gets handsy, Thorne won’t like it. So keep a respectable distance. We use the Parlor as a distraction for the big jobs. Thorne only lets certain members of the Silk in. You have to be an elitist to make it through those doors. Because of that, people pine to get in and some pay for it too. Thorne takes a back seat to most of the Parlor’s dealings. His role is more of a distant observer. Someone they all want to get close to, and no one can. See that woman over there with the long cigarette?”
I nodded, locking onto the way she watched Thorne, who stood on the balcony, leaning against one of the pillars, reading a damn book, of all things. But I’d learned enough about him to know he was watching the crowd more than the ink on the pages.
“She pays the man at the door a diamond once a month just to get in. He turns it over to Thorne. Thorne sells it to her husband, who owns a jewelry store. He gives it back to her and round and round they go, just pouring money into the Parlor, which in turn, feeds the Hollow for a good couple of days. And every once in a while, she’ll show up wearing something extra shiny and leave without it.”
“Don’t these people notice you’re stealing and selling their stuff?”
“Nah,” Archer said, letting the door snick shut. “Most of the rich don’t pay much attention to what they have in surplus. Also, that’s where the Vale, well… the black market comes into play. One of ours deals with Alastor. He pays a low price and then whatever he does with it from there is his own business. He doesn’t make it easy on us, but hopefully tonight changes that. We’ve been working on this for months.”
“You nervous?” I asked.
He pushed his shoulder into mine. “Just try not to mess it up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
The back door to the room opened and a woman with tight black curls came bustling in, clutching her cloak around her as the freezing wind raced through.
“Well?” Archer asked. “Where is she?”
The woman shook her head. “Caught by the Cimmerians. She’s not coming.”
“We really need her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Archie. I can’t very well go plead her case. You know that. She’s being tested.”
“Paesha, this is Rosy. Rosy, Paesha. Thorne’s wife. She’s helping keep Victor distracted tonight.”
Rosy sucked a sharp breath between her teeth. “Good luck with that. Emaline’s not coming, Arch. I don’t know what to tell you.”
The deep rumble of a man’s laugh came from the Parlor seconds before there was a light tapping at the door. “On our way,” Archer said with a gulp, eyes wide.
“You’re going to have to really keep his attention. It’s just you and I.”
I nodded, feeling his nerves as if they were my own. “Tell me something about him. Anything. What’s his job?”
“He’s a Silk. He doesn’t have a job.”
“Okay. Does he own businesses? Give to charity? Visit a temple? I need something to go on here.”
Rosy snorted. “He loves the temple all right… Serene’s lusty one, to be specific.”
I put my hand on Archer’s shoulder. “I’ve got this handled. Don’t worry.”
“Give me some time to get him settled. Then it’s all you.” His nervous laugh as he left the back room was less than reassuring.
“I’m not going to be able to keep that man’s attention with a riveting conversation, am I?” I asked the woman as she slipped out of her boots.
“Not a chance,” she said with a wink before pulling her dress over her head. “And I can’t help you, honey. I’ve got to help Harlow and Will entertain his partner. Just in case.”
The way she undressed without a thought reminded me of being backstage before a show. No one cared about what could be seen because we’d shown almost all of it on stage, anyway. I’d grown numb to human anatomy. But it did give me a brilliant idea.
“Do you have time to help me get this dress off?”
She snorted. “Yes. But no.”
“I’m serious. I need to get out of this immediately.”
“The boss will burn this place down before he lets his wife walk out there in anything but a floor-length gown and sleeves long enough to cover your fingertips. He’s nice until he isn’t. Don’t be foolish.”
“No one knows me,” I said.
“You’ve got the most unique eyes anyone has ever seen. We all know you, even if we’ve never met you. But most of this crowd was at Lithe, Paramour. They know exactly who you are.”
“I’ve got an idea, but we’re going to have to be quick.”
“Famous last words,” Rosy answered, ripping at the string on the back of my dress. “If I lose my job over this, I’ll find a way to make you suffer.”
Rosy was actually a gem. She’d left the room, and just as I’d asked her to, ordered the band to play something smoother than the peppy song they’d been repeating. She’d handed out jeweled veils to all the workers and bid them to put them on, so I would not be the only one disguised.
I stepped out of the back room, hardly able to see, but there were enough details seeping through the jewels to guide me toward the table Archer had pointed out. Still, as I walked, with little more than lace and diamonds covering me, my heart hammered. The attention of the entire parlor on me added to the tension. The pressure to get this right for Thorne. Each step I took felt like a proclamation, each sway of my hips, a command. A duty, but one I’d asked for.
The music swelled around me, and though I knew Archer looked away, focusing only on Victor, it felt as if the rest of the room were mine. And I’d commanded many rooms. Many crowds. Many stages. But as a giant shadow filled my peripheral vision, I knew Thorne had descended from his perch, likely in full protest of my decision to walk out of that back room almost naked.
A seductive melody seeped into my bones, urging me to move. And so I did, letting the music guide me as I stepped up on the platform. Victor stopped talking to Archer mid-sentence, his attention all mine as if it were wrapped around my fist as I danced, slow at first, then gaining momentum, spinning, swaying, twirling and the music trailed through the Parlor, sinking into my soul. Speaking the only language I ever wanted to know.
My focus should have been on Victor. That was the test, wasn’t it? The initiation. The big target. Keep his attention long enough for Archer to make his move. But the fire resting beneath my skin came from another. The man that had shifted closer.
Thorne’s scorching gaze traveled along the curve of my waist, grazing the arch of my back and tracing the line of my bare legs. I reveled in it, allowed myself to succumb to the intoxicating rhythm as my body moved gracefully to the surrounding beat. A smirk played on my lips as I thought of him. Of the look of disapproval on his handsome face. Maybe, for once, he’d break through the walls of self-discipline he’d built around himself. But he couldn’t do that here. Not now, when this moment was so important. He was trapped beneath my control and I loved it.
Old Victor shifted forward, leaning over the small round table between us. Whatever conversation he’d been having had been long abandoned as I danced for him, but not really. I couldn’t take my mind from Thorne just feet away.
I extended an arm, the gauzy fabric of the veil trailing behind me like wisps of smoky desire. Victor’s eyes followed the movement, his own longing blatantly obvious in the hungry look he cast my way. Subtly, I beckoned him closer, knowing Thorne would be watching his every move, but also fully aware that keeping him in my grasp would make Archer’s job the easiest.
Twirling once more, I lost myself in the rhythm of the song. Raw power surged through me as I noticed Thorne stepping forward; his tall and commanding figure cutting an intimidating path through the crowd that had gathered.
Gliding toward Victor like a phantom in the night, the layers of my disguise billowing around my shoulders, I reached a single hand toward him. He sat at rapt attention, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, as if he’d seen an angel descend from the heavens.
Panic set in as Thorne drew closer. He’d give us both away if he couldn’t control himself. He made no effort to hide the anger on his face as he watched me edge toward Victor. His hand flexed at his side. But this was his game. His months of planning. He’s the one that knew what was at stake tonight.
Beyond the speckled jewels and gossamer masking my face, our eyes locked for a fleeting moment, sparking a connection that rocked me, nearly sending me off the side of the platform. His smirk at my misstep was infuriating. I needed only to keep the charade a few moments more. Victor, with his eyes glued to me, shifted in his seat again. I pushed my hips forward and then back, spinning to give him a glimpse of my entire body. My grip around his attention tightened as Archer made his move.
Seconds later, Archer slowly raised both hands in the air with a dramatic yawn. The sign. We’d pulled it off. And Thorne had managed to maintain his distance. I waited for three beats of music before stepping off the pedestal and circling through the room, walking past each of the other dancers, stroking my fingers over their skin, though none of them were naked or even partially aware of what was happening.
The song’s final note came just as I closed the door to the back room, ripped the veil from my face, and quickly stepped back into my dress. I thought he’d come. I thought for sure the door would slam open and Thorne would come barreling in with all of his anger and all of his self-righteous attitude, swinging it like a hammer at me. But I stood in silence, beyond the low murmur of the next song, the laughter of the Silk, and the soft shuffle of gambling chips.
After carefully tying the corset on my dress so it didn’t look rushed, I slipped Thorne’s ring back onto my finger, fluffed my hair in one of the mirrors, and double checked the door. I was alone. I drew in one steady breath before approaching the sconce with more wear on its finish than the others. I knew a secret door when I saw one. I also knew most wouldn’t have questioned it, hidden halfway behind the mirrors. But it just so happened I was on the hunt for a hidden door.
My nerves rattled, sending wave after wave of anticipation until my hands were a sweaty mess. I’d found the Hollow. I’d found the Lord of the Salt. And now this. And while I wasn’t sure I could be so lucky to find a portal home hidden within the backroom of Thorne’s little shop of thievery, a girl could hope. Pray. Even beg.
“Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes as I turned the metal handle, and the wall gave way.