~ 12 ~
ANYA
Tension hangs heavier than the humidity in the cavern. It’s eased by the low and gentle whisper of the kettle. I try to look relaxed as I set two mugs by the pit and use my shirt to help me grip the hot handle.
Sabri sits like a carved monument on the other side of the fire.
“Sorry I can’t find the strainer,” I say, partially to break the quiet and also because this is going to be the messiest cup of tea the princess has ever had. As I pour into the mugs, the steaming water churns with the loose tea leaves. “Someone must have lost it.”
“Or stolen it,” Sabri says. Her voice is so flat that I can’t tell if she’s being snarky or serious.
“Perhaps.” I rock back onto my heels and stand up, holding the cups carefully as I step around the fire. I offer one mug to Sabri. “But if you can ignore the little bits floating around, it’s not a bad blend. Here.”
Sabri stares at the cup of tea. Determination is etched into the gentle lines of her face. “You must still think me a child if you think I’d willingly take a drink from the Lord of Thieves.”
“Suit yourself.” I set the mug on the ground in front of her and move back to the other side of the fire pit. I sit down, cradling my own mug. The warm porcelain feels welcoming in my chilly hands.
A spark jumps from the pit as the log crackles. In the distance, there’s the soft sound of dripping water.
“So,” Sabri’s voice is colder than my wet clothes. “Now that you have me here in the bowels of this awful place, are you finally going to tell me why you’ve accosted me?”
Here we go.
“Didn’t I already tell you?” I make a show of lifting my mug to my lips, blowing into the steam a few times. “I wanna talk.”
“Then do it.” Sabri crosses her arms, causing her metal bracers to click threateningly against one another. I don’t know how her clothes are going to dry beneath that armor—she must be pretty uncomfortable. Still, she doesn’t show an ounce of pain on her face; only a princess’s distaste.
“It’s been such a long time and you’ve gone to such lengths,” she adds as she levels that icy gaze on me. I think my clothes, just barely starting to warm up, might freeze solid. “It must be extremely important.”
I shrug, and I’m definitely not stalling what is sure to be a difficult and risky conversation. Absolutely not. It’s just that she’s more guarded and distant than the palace itself right now—I was hoping the tea and fire might crack her shell a bit, but my poor luck seems to be on a streak. “Maybe I just wanted to check in with you after all these years.”
I can hear the deep breath Sabri takes before she replies.
“As if,” she says. “You could’ve just come to the castle if you wanted to talk with me.” She stomps her metal boot against the ground. “Name your demands.”
“I don’t know if it’s sweet or ignorant that you think the Lord of the Thieves could waltz in through the front door and request an audience with the princess.”
“That’s…” The muscles on Sabri’s face tighten as she clenches her teeth. She relaxes them with a stiff exhale. “Fine. But you could’ve sent a note. Or visited as a normal civilian—the palace is open every month for the hearings.”
I raise an eyebrow. Strange. She’s ignorant about the world, sure, but it’s not like Sab to play dumb about court affairs.
“The council hasn’t had public hearings for nine years,” I say. “And you’d be thinking far too highly of me if you think the guild has the resources to break in.”
Unlike the dinky royal guard who exists for decoration more than anything else, the true protectors of the castle are the individual forces of the council. They’re privately trained groups of mercenaries known for a complete lack of empathy. I wouldn’t throw away the lives of the guild on something as stupid as storming the palace.
“Lies.” Sabri’s brows press together. “The council holds a hearing every month. I review the summaries of benefits distributed myself.”
I glance at her over the rim of my cup. “You don’t go to the hearings?”
Sabri’s eyes dip, and the full force of her gale storm gaze lands on the mug at her feet. “I’ll oversee the hearings when I ascend the throne. For now, my royal attentions are needed elsewhere.”
From the way she parrots it off like reading a letter, I know it’s something she’s been told a hundred times.
Surprise, surprise. The council isn’t letting her do anything of value.
Those old cronies are addicted to profit and don’t give a soggy damn about anyone outside of the palace. For all of Sabri’s rashness, she’s never put much weight into social class. Her heart has always been in the right place when it comes to the people around her—with the one glaring exception being how she abandoned her best friend all those years ago.
I guess it shouldn’t be a shocker that they don’t want the princess taking on more responsibilities. Those greedy farts want to keep control for as long as they can.
I have to remind myself that I don’t give a damn what games the rich people play among themselves. I’m here to make Sabri work with us—and that won’t get easier by talking shit about another group using her for their own benefit.
Nothing to feel guilty about here. Sabri can handle it. She might even deserve a bit of difficulty after what she did to me.
I swallow the thoughts down and put on the most easy-going smile I can manage. “Then you’ll just have to trust me when I say they don’t let commoners in,” I say simply. “If you’re not from a noble family, you can’t even get past the palace moat. So sorry, but it wasn’t possible for me to come see you.”
Sabri sits up. Her fists are clenched. “You couldn’t—oh, I don’t know—dress up as a maid or kitchen attendant or something? They call you the Thief Lord. It’s hard for me to believe you couldn’t find a way to slip inside.”
The tone of her voice is changing. It’s sliding from barely contained anger toward something messier, something that I’d rather not try to name.
She’s not the only one getting aggravated, either. I’m just better at hiding it.
I look down as I twist the mug in my hands, rolling it between palms. The warm liquid sloshes inside as I carefully choose my next words. “After your father died, they cleared out the staff. The council only hires from within certain families. How could I slip in when there are no outsiders and everyone knows each other? It’d be a suicide mission.”
Metal clinks in warning as Sabri leaps to her feet.
Ah, here she goes again.
I almost throw my mug as I jump up, bracing for what must be another attack. But Sabri doesn’t move. She just stands there, squeezing her fists so hard her knuckles have gone white.
“Ten years, Anya,” she says. The sudden pain in her voice hits harder than a punch. Her mug rolls across the stone, stopping right by the edge of the pit. “Ten awful years.”
The raw hurt on her face has me calculating rapidly. If this was anyone else—literally any person in the guild—I’d think they were faking it, but it’s Sabri. She’s always been shit about hiding her feelings. So what it this?
“I, uh.” My mind is too full of the picture of Sabri standing there, dripping wet and trembling with emotion. There’s no room for anything else.
“This whole time,” she whispers, and I wish she’d just be angry again—this brutal, stabbing emotion is much more painful and I don’t know how to handle it. “I thought you were dead, Anya.”
Tea flows out from the overturned mug at her feet, puddling on the stone floor and dripping to sizzle on the embers.
“Yeah, well.” I roll my mug between my hands and shift my weight from one hip to the other. I can’t meet Sabri’s eyes. “I’m not.”
“It’s been so hard. I—you—” she turns away from me. Her shoulders are shaking so much that her armor is moving.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Because what do I say? Sorry?
No way; I don’t have any reason to be sorry.
“It’s been hard?” I repeat, and it unlocks something inside me.
This is becoming twisted, but I was there. I know what happened. That day in the village, when things started to burn, Sabri and her suffocating captain were gone faster than the smoke filling our small cottage. Just like that—all those years of friendship went up in ash. She never even came back to check.
The years after that were torture. Joining the guild was a risky shot in the dark, but what else did I have? My adopted mother was dead and my best friend had abandoned me. Who else would take in a homeless orphan, other than the group that had ruined me in the first place?
Like shit I should be sorry for what I had to do to survive.
Sab got her chance to be angry. If she’s all done, then that means it’s my turn.
“Don’t talk to me about things being hard , Sab,” I say, and it’s louder than I had intended. “You left me for dead. You were up there sipping tea and having scones and I was fighting for my fucking life with a group of criminals.”
Everything is spilling over and tumbling out. Like the tea on the floor, or the fire still licking between us—always, always between us—and it should be cathartic, but all I can feel is explosive pain. Now that it’s out there, I can’t stop.
“So here, while you’re actually fucking listening to me—let me tell you why I’ve gone through so much trouble to get you down here. This is why I brought you here.”
I press against one of my rings reflectively, but even the pain can’t ground me now.
“I took control of the Thieves’ Guild because I had to. Because the little people—me, Tinny, Minx, everyone—we don’t survive when we’re getting shoved from both sides. The Crown is working hard to fuck us all over, so someone had to step up and take the reins of the guild. It sure wasn’t fun, Sab, but I did what I had to—for everyone.”
My vision is a little blurry, but it must be the steamy air because there’s no chance I’m going to spill any more tears over this. That pool has long dried.
“The new guild is doing what we can to help people, giving out what we reclaim from the nobles and all that, but it’s not enough. People are hungry and desperate. I managed to get the Thieves’ Guild, but the Crown is far beyond me. We need someone on the inside in order to make change—we need you.”
Sabri’s lips are parted; she’s speechless.
It makes me angrier.
“That’s it; that’s the truth. And it was stupid to risk anything on you—stupid to be this desperate. Because you’re selfish. And years of palace life have clearly made you oblivious. I have no idea if you’ll ever come around to helping us. But don’t—don’t—” I jab my finger at her, “don’t you dare make it seem like you have it harder than we do.”
Sabri’s lips tighten. There’s moisture in her eyes and seeing it makes me hate her so much that it hurts—it hurts so fucking much .
“You don’t know the meaning of the word difficult,” I yell, “and you sure don’t get to be sad over me.” I take a step forward, my toes inches from the flames. “I didn’t die in the fire, Sab, but sometimes I wish I had.”
I swallow, but my throat is dry. I’d give anything to be able to choke back the sting at the corners of my eyes. All I can do is blink as I glare at Sabri.
And damn her, because she’s retreated back to being a statue.
We stare at each other across the flames.
“You’re not doing it, so I have to. I’m the Thief Lord because of you, Sabri Melsbrand.” I hiss, pushing the words out of my tight throat. “Don’t you ever fucking forget it.”