CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
THIEVES IN THE NIGHT
With the intricate laces up the back, it would’ve wasted more time and effort than it was worth to get me out of my ball gown, so I leave it on.
I’ve blanketed it in a coat, cloak, and heavy sjaal from the Vale manor, and thrown an additional sweater and pants in a bag to change into when we reach our destination for the night.
Kaidren and I keep our heads ducked as we clamber into the sky cart. This time of night, there are only two that are operational, and this one’s attendant is Tallus. Fortunately, he’s rarely interested in making conversation.
True to form, he stands on one side of the cart, while Kaidren and I sit on the opposite end.
For most of the ride, we don’t speak. I wait until we’re about five minutes from the base of the mountain to spark up a conversation with Tallus. Over the years, I’ve come to learn his habits. I know exactly what I need to say to coax magic out of him. “Do you like working the sky cart?” I ask.
Kaidren frowns at me, no doubt confused why I’m choosing now to speak, after an hour of silence.
Tallus looks uneasy. “Yes. It’s a great way to see the mountain.”
I’m still cold. He means what he just said. Which I already know—after all, we’ve had this conversation before. I nod as though this is new information. “Do you have family?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What do they think of your job?”
His tone is gentler as he speaks of them. “They love it. They’re jealous I get to see this view every day.”
“They’ve never seen it for themselves?”
Tallus tenses. He always does. “Um . . . no. Of course not. They don’t work in Virdei, so we’re not allowed to have them in the sky carts.
” The heat of his lie is welcome in the night chill.
He’s right that allowing his family to use the transportation up and down the mountain for recreation isn’t allowed.
But, of course, he’s done it. Who wouldn’t?
I nod as if I believe him. The heat of his lie soaks through me, and I grab hold of the tshira sparrow trinket on my bracelet, pulsing magic into it for safekeeping.
Tallus eyes me warily, trying to see whether I believe him. He’s tense for the rest of the journey.
When we reach Ophera, I pull up my hood. “Thank you.” I slip off a glove and touch my bare hand to my tshira talisman, pulling the magic.
Kaidren exits the cart first and holds out a hand to help me down, but I don’t follow him right away. First, I give Tallus a few coins.
He perks up, pocketing them quickly. “Thank you, ma—”
My fingertips are on his forehead before he can finish.
Heat flows from me to him. His eyes flicker closed as I tug at his memories like loose thread, unraveling his recollection of the past hour until there’s nothing left.
He collapses to the floor, unconscious.
I grab Kaidren’s hand and flee, pulling him after me. Kaidren’s jaw is lost somewhere on the snow-covered ground as we sprint away. “What the hell was that?”
“Magic.” We slow our pace when we’re a safe distance from the cart.
“I’ve never seen that before.” He’s out of breath and staring at me in horror. “What did you do to him?”
“Don’t worry. He’s fine. He’ll wake up in a few minutes. All I did was manipulate my source.”
Kaidren looks even more confused. “Meaning what?”
“I altered his perception of the truth. He won’t remember we were in his cart. When the decurio realize we’re missing, they’ll ask him if he took anyone fitting our descriptions down the mountain. Now he won’t remember doing it.”
Kaidren is still gawking at me. “How often do you do that?”
“Not often,” I say vaguely. “It’s less precise than my other magic. Manipulating heat and tshira is easy enough. Memories are more complicated.”
Kaidren clearly has more questions, but a particularly strong gust of wind whistles past us, blowing snow into our faces. We shudder and bundle deeper into our cloaks.
The Opheran streets are dark, but I could trace the path to our destination with my eyes closed and fast asleep.
Light from the beacons of Widow’s Hall only stretches so far.
In Ophera, there are lanterns atop wooden posts at intervals, but they’re poorly maintained.
Many have flicked out, making most of the streets eerie, with long, oddly shaped shadows dancing over the ground.
I shiver. Without needing to ask, Kaidren presses closer and drapes part of his sjaal over the both of us. We stay nestled together as we trudge through the snow.
“You still haven’t said where we’re going.” Kaidren raises his voice to be heard over the harsh wind.
“It’s just up ahead.” There’s no point keeping this from him. In a matter of minutes, he’ll know the truth for himself, but I’ve never confided this secret to anyone—not Luc, not Sef—and I’m not sure I even know how to say it.
No matter how often I return, my heartbeat is always a painful stutter as I approach. Despite my bone-deep chill, my palms start sweating as soon as I see the familiar front door.
I raise a fist and knock.
There’s a long pause. It’s late and she’s probably sleeping. I’m more nervous than impatient, but the seconds we wait feel like hours before the door finally opens.
She’s shorter than me by about half a head. Her skin is dark like umber with a warm undertone, and her hair is black as the night sky. Even though she’s small and clearly exhausted, her dark eyes are bright and full of life.
There was a time I’d have given anything—everything—to keep that spark alive.
So I did.
Kaidren looks between the two of us in confusion. It’s hard to miss the similarities in our features. In the shapes of our faces, the curves of our jaws, the slopes of our noses.
I can practically see his brain piecing it together.
She looks surprised to see me. I tend to keep to a regular visitation schedule. Once a month, late at night (never this late), and I never bring guests.
“Mira?” She rubs her eyes blearily.
I smile. With it, I try to convey the weight of all the things I can never say. “Hello, Aja.”