To Sway A Soul (Tempting Thieves #6)

Prologue

O nce upon a time, there was a boy who was afraid.

It was an inconvenient thing, as he had a sister to protect, and they both lived on the streets of a great city where the people were selfish and corrupt and cruel.

Some days they starved. Other days, the boy stole stale buns from a street vendor.

Every day, he was terrified.

But for his sister’s sake, he pretended not to be. Shivering in their meager shelter, he told her stories of brave warriors and noble heroes who rode upon great steeds and gave starving children a home in their massive mansions.

The sister listened with delight, truly believing that a faceless hero would someday make life better for them. The boy loved her, so he let her believe, even when he knew that the men who owned mansions were no heroes—and that they wanted their massive homes all to themselves.

One fortunate day, the boy acquired a job as an errand boy for an herbalist shop. He was able to buy fresh buns from the street vendor and new clothes for them both. He let his sister guard over their meager wealth in a little embroidered pouch.

This would be her responsibility, he told her, and she accepted it eagerly.

The sister looked up to him with awe and admiration. She had no need for heroes when she had her brother.

But there were others on the streets who envied what the siblings had. A group of boys, since hardened by the cruelty of the streets, decided to take it for themselves. They cornered the sister and demanded she hand over the pouch and all it held.

With bravery fit for the warriors in her brother’s stories, the sister refused.

And she paid dearly for it.

The boy stood frozen as the cruel group descended. He was so afraid, even as he wished for the courage to save her.

Eventually, blow by blow, he no longer had a sister to save.

***

A T THE EDGES OF THE city lay a great bamboo forest. Some spots were so dense and shadowed that many believed they were breeding grounds for yao guai , sprites and demons that brought mischief and bad luck.

There was a demon. It was a mere bamboo sprite, hidden in the dense corner of a forest, but it had lofty goals. If it had a human soul, it would be able to cultivate into an immortal.

It was to this corner the boy ran to, overcome with grief.

Demons fed off sorrow and strife. A boy grieving was the perfect target. With cloying words and promises of comfort, the bamboo sprite persuaded him to relinquish his soul.

The boy agreed. He had nothing left to lose.

His soul was small and young, but it was a bright, strong one nonetheless—taking the shape of a dragon. Even removed, it clung to him in golden tendrils like fibers of a lotus root, stretching endlessly as he walked further and further from the forest.

In the demon’s grasp, the dragon soul writhed and fought.

Souls always returned to their rightful bodies. It was the way of the universe for things to settle into their natural order. So, with magic dripping in darkness, the demon trapped the dragon in an enchanted scroll where it would be blind to the boy’s whereabouts.

For now, the demon slept. It was a patient thing. After a hundred years, it would check on it again. By then, the soul’s connection to the boy would be severed. Mortals never lived long.

As for the boy, he returned to the city, numb to everything. He would never be afraid now.

But neither would he ever love.