Chapter Twenty-Five Wren
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wren
The Fates are the oldest creatures ever to have walked our world. They are the beginning, the middle, and the end of all, created by the magic of the earth itself.
—Origin of the Fates, Chapter Thirteen
I wasn’t pleased when Damien showed up, and he instantly grimaced upon seeing whatever uneasy emotion lay on my face.
“You feeling better?” I said through gritted teeth.
I hated that I asked it. He should be the one falling to his feet thanking me. I smoothed down my only black skirt and anxiously pulled at the too-high neckline. I wasn’t a fan of being choked by clothing.
Alas, breaking into a lord’s home required stealth.
He nodded stiffly and finally said, “Yes, thanks to you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I…are you upset with me?”
I rolled my eyes. “If you have to ask that question, then you’re not as clever as I assumed.” Turning on a heel, I started for Lizzy’s town house. It would be a twenty-minute walk. I didn’t rejoice in that fact.
“Wren, slow down!”
I didn’t. He could catch up.
“Wren, I shouldn’t have left, all right?” he said panting behind me. “I just…”
I whirled on him. “You just what?”
“I thought you’d want me to leave,” he replied, but I didn’t believe it to be the truth for a second.
“Liar.”
I spun around, ignoring his calls. When he eventually caught up, he panted between pleas. In a petty way, it was nice to see him in such a disorderly state. Not his typical arrogant self.
“All right, fine. Listen. I left because staying would mean something important,” he managed. “And I—”
“You act tough, but you’re just as frightened as the rest of us. So save it or grow up.”
Maybe we shouldn’t have crossed that line to begin with. Maybe it was mere attraction.
Damien remained silent for ten minutes, trailing behind me. The cocky thief didn’t have a snappy comment for once. Disappointment filled me.
The bending streets of Ward Two were twisting and uphill, and I, too, found myself winded minutes away from Lizzy’s house. I only knew its location because Father had stopped there once to drop a memo off for her father.
Looking back now, maybe it had been a threat.
Fingers wrapped around my arm, slowing me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t like the idea of you hating me.
” Damien’s nostrils flared when I turned, giving him my best glare.
“Seriously, it’s messing with my head.” He made a low grumbling sound in his throat, like he had any right to be irritated. All of this was his doing.
“Damien?”
“Yes, sunshine?”
“Do me a favor and keep quiet.” I snatched my arm back, his stunned gasp faint.
“I’m apologizing,” he said, striding to keep pace. I wondered if his wound pained him.
“Is that supposed to absolve your actions?” I stopped, turning to look him over. Dark circles shone prominently beneath the light of a street lamp. He was refusing to let himself rest and heal. “This whole thing”—I motioned between us—“was a mistake. We both know it.”
His hand shot out and cupped my cheek, a determined glint in his eyes. “A mistake? So you weren’t the one grabbing onto my shirt and raking your hands in my hair? You didn’t murmur my name or kiss me like you’d die if you didn’t? That was all in my head, right?”
“Why are you arguing with me about this?” I asked, stunned. “You’re the one who’s pushed me away saying it was a ‘mistake’ first. It’s not even like we know each other all that well.”
He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Then we will.”
“Oh, it’s decided, then?” I placed both hands on my hips. The nerve of him.
But Damien merely smirked that irritating smirk I hated and sidestepped me, hands in his pockets like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Coming?” he asked over his shoulder as I stood there fuming. Beads of sweat trickled down my temple, and I felt the heat of rage burn my skin.
I didn’t answer him when I set off for Lizzy’s, choosing to mutter curses beneath my breath.
The cocky bastard. I wasn’t in the mood to be nice. I’d been nice my entire life, and I wanted to let myself feel that gloriously hot anger boiling my blood.
I wanted him to simmer tonight, but he’d turned the tables.
Ignore him, I told myself, shoving down my anger, the taste of it bitter on my tongue.
At Lizzy’s front porch, I paused.
“What are you waiting for?” Damien asked at my side, still infuriatingly calm.
“You’re the thief,” I whisper-hissed, motioning wildly at the door. “Go pick the lock or something.”
“Demanding tonight,” he muttered before heading around back.
Don’t smack him don’t smack him don’t smack him.
My fists clenched. The idea was far too tempting.
Lizzy, like most in the north, lived in a spacious town house with a small garden in the front and a larger one in the back.
The impressive three-story brick home had an intricate front gate designed to resemble tangled vines.
I eyed the arched windows; they would likely be our way in if Damien failed.
When we reached the back gate, it was no surprise to find it locked.
Damien inspected the lock and took a small black satchel from his jacket pocket.
He let out a small noise of pain when he knelt and began to work, poking and prodding with long, thin metal instruments.
He held back the agony he must be feeling; stab wounds didn’t typically heal overnight.
Still, he didn’t miss a beat, and I observed him intensely, studying his every move.
I secretly wanted him to show me how to do this sometime.
If I watched closely enough, perhaps I could get into Father’s study.
When the lock clicked, he swung the gate open and waved me through. I bit my tongue before I could say anything snippy—only because he was still hurting—and headed toward the rear entrance to the house. It felt like everything and anything would set me off tonight.
The back door was thankfully unlocked.
“They think they’re invincible,” Damien chuckled. “I may have to scour—”
I cut him off with a stern look. “Don’t even think about it.” Lifting my finger, I warned, “No stealing.”
Returning to the door, I eased it open, careful not to make a noise.
The house was silent, not a voice or creak to be heard.
Entering through the kitchen, I maneuvered around the cook’s workspace and into the dining room, which connected to the parlor.
Lizzy’s parents had atrocious taste—everything had been decorated in ruby and gold and some form of brocade.
If the lights had been on, I might’ve been blinded by it all.
In the foyer, a curving black staircase led up to the bedrooms, and, presumably, to Lord Saridon’s study. Damien’s hand fell on my shoulder midway through the climb. I wanted to shove it off to make a point, but my damned body wouldn’t listen.
“Want to split up?” he asked. “I’ll check on the woman’s room, and you can check out the father’s study, seeing as you’d probably know where the lords like to keep all the good stuff.”
“Yes, I’m such an expert,” I said, a bite to my tone.
“Damn, sunshine, you really are going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Just don’t turn your back on me,” I threatened. I reached the landing and eyed the hall. “Lizzy is an only child. Her room should be down that hall,” I instructed, pointing to the smaller of the corridors. The other would bring him to the primary suite.
Damien nodded and crept away, leaving me to explore. On the opposite side of the stairs a door framed in more gold glimmered in greeting. It had to be Lord Saridon’s study. I tried the handle, only to discover that it was locked.
Of course. And we’d just split up. I shook my head, wanting to smack myself.
Now I’d have to wait for Damien to return from his own sleuthing. Two people messing around in Lizzy’s bedroom would cause too much noise.
Yet another reason for me to learn how to pick my own damn locks in the future.
I swore I leaned against the wall for a solid twenty minutes before Damien’s silhouette emerged from the corridor. When he got within reach, I noticed his empty hands.
“Any luck on your end?” he asked.
“It’s locked,” I admitted, raising a brow at him. “I couldn’t start.”
“Mmm, probably should’ve thought about that.” He knelt and pulled out his tools. “By the way, Lizzy snores. Loudly. Like, earth-shattering snores.”
I nudged him with my boot. “Be nice.” Inwardly I scolded myself for repressing the chuckle I’d swallowed.
“I’m just saying. We could’ve both gone in there and thrown a party, and I doubt she’d have woken up.”
I released an exasperated sigh. “Focus.” The longer we were here, the greater the chance we’d get caught.
How would I explain breaking and entering to Lord Saridon, let alone my father?
Damien would probably sprint and leave me here anyway.
Yet…even after sneaking out of my room, I somehow didn’t believe he’d abandon me.
“Also.” I nudged his boot. “You’re teaching me that when we get a chance. ”
Damien’s lips curled slightly. “Would you forgive me if I did?”
I glared down at him, wishing I hated how handsome his profile appeared, even as he was slouched and breaking into a locked room. I planned to say No, but instead a feeble “Maybe” escaped.
“I’ll take a maybe from you, Wren,” he said, pausing to lift his chin. We locked eyes, his gray ones seeming to ask something of me. To take something.
“What? You’re looking at me oddly.” I ran a hand through my hair self-consciously.
“Because you drive me mad sometimes,” he murmured, still smiling.
“Good.” I squatted down to his level, our lips inches apart. “I like driving you mad.”
It seemed only fair.
His warm breath fanned across my cheeks, the scent of him—spice and leather—wafting to my nose. So close, one tiny little move would send our lips colliding.
“Such a naughty mind,” Damien said, cocking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
I huffed. “I wouldn’t need to try, Damien.”