Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The girl with her fancy dress, bright-red face, and mouth hanging open like a fish was quite possibly the most adorable thing Thomasin Shaw had ever seen.
To be fair, though, adorable things didn’t come along often in her line of work.
Gruesome things, vile things, sometimes even funny things.
But never adorable ones, and never twice in one day.
So consistent was the monotony of terrible that those gruesome, vile things had all just faded into boring. Thomasin’s instincts told her that this bizarre girl who had shared bread with her was anything but boring, and if she had learned anything, it was that her instincts were never wrong.
Edith’s round face was framed by loose strands of sand- colored hair.
They must have fallen from the elaborate style that held the rest of her locks prisoner atop her head.
She tucked the strands behind her ears. Ears, Thomasin noted, that had gone very red.
Thomasin’s lips tilted up into the beginnings of a smile.
“This isn’t a very convincing pitch,” Thomasin drawled.
The girl’s mouth snapped shut, and she straightened her shoulders with awkward urgency.
One of her hands came to rest purposefully on something in her bag.
“I am here to hire your services. You see, I am embarking on a quest that will change the world’s understanding of history, science, even religion.
All I need to accomplish this is an escort.
The journey will be perilous, and I unfortunately do not possess the worldly skills that someone in your profession might have.
” She finished her obviously practiced speech with a huff of breath.
“So, you want someone to do your dirty work?” Thomasin pointed a lazy finger at Edith.
“No! Not anything so nefarious. It’s quite a noble que—”
“Noble? You’ve lost my interest there, dear.”
Edith’s jaw clenched, and she almost looked as if she were about to stomp her foot. “Well then, I’ll do the noble part and leave all the nefariousness to you.”
Thomasin pushed off her chair, and the room spun only a little bit. Christ, she really did need to stop drinking before dinner. She placed one foot in front of the other until she was only a few strides away from Edith. “All this talk, and you still haven’t told me what exactly you want from me.”
“Again, I’m offering you an opportunity—”
“The only opportunities I’m interested in are the ones that end with me sleeping in piles of gold.”
“Gold?” Edith looked flummoxed. “But this is so much more important than riches.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Thomasin smirked.
Edith swallowed, tilting her chin up as if fortifying herself. Thomasin had no idea what she was going to say next. When people came to hire her, she always knew what they were going to say. Steal this. Kill her. Burn that building down. But this—this was new, maybe even exciting.
“I’m on a quest to find Excalibur, along with the lost treasures of Camelot. The sword has been lost since the age of King Arthur, and only I can find it.”
Exciting indeed, she thought. Edith sounded so earnest that Thomasin really did try to keep the grin off her face. But she just couldn’t help it. “Excalibur? King Arthur?”
Edith must have missed the mocking in her tone.
Instead, that one little question, Thomasin’s slight show of interest, seemed to open the floodgates of Edith’s enthusiasm.
“Yes. My ancestors lived in Camelot, and an artifact has been passed down through every generation. With this artifact, I can find where Excalibur and the treasures are hidden.”
Thomasin raised her brow, the charcoal on her skin creasing. “Camelot isn’t real. King Arthur is a fairy story written for children.”
“That’s what they want you to think. The best way to hide something is to convince everyone that it’s stupid.” Edith punctuated every sentence with dramatic hand gestures.
“ ‘They’?” Thomasin wasn’t sure why she was even entertaining this conversation. It had to be the girl’s impeccable grooming and fancy clothing. Those things spoke of money, and even if she was a lunatic, she’d make a good mark.
Edith looked at her as if she were the one being ridiculous. “Merlin and Arthur. They hid the treasure so that only the worthy could find it.”
“What makes you worthy?” Thomasin asked, noting the way Edith’s hand once again drifted down to hover over something in her satchel.
“I’m worthy because I believe in chivalry and goodness. Magic and honor. All the ideals that have been lost with time,” she said as if she were giving a stump speech, and then tacked on at the end, “Also because I have the artifact.”
“Is that what you keep stroking in your satchel? The artifact?” Thomasin reached for the bag, but Edith tugged it behind her back.
“No.”
“Then what is it?” Thomasin stepped into her space, reaching around for the strap of the satchel. “C’mon, I’m curious.”
They grappled for control of the bag. Thomasin could have had the satchel in seconds if she wanted to, but she was having far too much fun needling the girl. Not to mention she smelled better than anyone Thomasin had ever known. Like lilacs and vanilla.
Edith pulled back roughly. “It’s my grandmother’s ashes, okay! Are you happy?”
Thomasin dropped her hands, and Edith clutched the bag protectively to her chest.
After an awkward beat of silence, Thomasin asked, “Are they like, loose in there? Or is it an urn situation?”
“Ugh! Obviously, an urn. Can you imagine trying to clean—you know what, never mind.” She unbuckled the satchel and pulled out not an urn, but a heavy iron key.
The metal was ancient, flaking and curling with rust along the rod.
The teeth of the key were thick and intricate.
Thomasin couldn’t imagine a door with a keyhole so big.
“This is the artifact. On the riverbank where Arthur was killed, there’s a stone with an inscription.
Part of it is in Latin, but the rest is in Ogham.
No one has ever been able to translate it, but my family has passed down the true meaning, along with this key. ”
A sharp knock on the door cut Edith off. Thomasin strode across the room, impatience nipping at her heels. There was only one person who would dare to interrupt. She jerked open the door just an inch. “What?” she growled in Worthing’s annoyingly stern face.
“I thought you might want to be saved from the crazy girl. I can take care of her for you.”
“Who’s in charge here?”
Worthing’s eyes flicked to the floor. “You, boss.”
“Exactly. So if I want something, I’ll tell you.
Until then, you do whatever the fuck it is you do all day and leave me the hell alone.
” Thomasin slammed the door in his face before he could reply.
The men under her needed a harsh structure.
Thomasin was their boss, and there could be no room for doubt, or even freethinking.
Especially with Worthing, who was always watching for opportunities to undermine her.
But it was fine. It just meant that Thomasin couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
One didn’t come to lead a network of criminals at just thirty years old by being weak.
Although she didn’t have to try particularly hard anymore. Her name and reputation were enough to have anyone cowering no matter how she behaved.
But, she had pushed it a little bit too far as of late, finally pissing off someone so badly that she wasn’t sure fear would be enough to stop them coming after her. That was a problem for another time, though.
She breathed roughly through her nose and turned back to face Edith, who met her stormy expression with a bright grin.
She hadn’t cowered once, Thomasin realized with a jolt of unexpected delight.
“You were saying?” Thomasin smiled as she walked back over to her throne.
She only called it that in her head. To say it out loud would be far too fanciful.
She collapsed into it and gazed up at the girl.
“Right, so the Latin inscription is just a red herring. The true inscription reads ‘Those who seek the lion’s treasure, descend here to the path of Avalon.’ ” At Thomasin’s nod, she continued. “The key unlocks the stone, which of course leads to said path of Avalon.”
“And why do we want to go to Avalon?”
She gave a small laugh. “Because Excalibur lies with Arthur, and Arthur lies in Avalon. So we find Avalon, we find the treasure.”
“Alright, what’s my cut?” Thomasin asked with a jerk of her chin.
“All of it.”
“Excuse me?”
“The treasure, all of Camelot’s riches, they’re yours. I just want Excalibur.”
“Why?” Thomasin searched her face for mistruth, trying to suss out the angle Edith must be playing, but she saw not even a hint of deception in her eyes.
“Riches are riches. They don’t mean anything to me. But Excalibur, that’s proof that he was real, and that’s all I care about,” Edith said.
“So let me get this straight, you want me to take you to this stone, which is …”
“Along the banks of the Camel River, right next to Slaughterbridge.”
“Slaughterbridge? Is that really what it’s called?” Thomasin watched Edith attempt to school her features, but an infectious smile won out quickly.
“I know. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” she said through a laugh.
“Tourism must be shit with a name like that.” Thomasin laughed along with her, ignoring the pleasure she took in making someone laugh instead of scream for once.
“Anyway, I take you to Slaughterbridge”—another snort from Edith made Thomasin’s smile grow—“and then your key opens a stone, we find a chamber full of gold, and I get to keep it all.”
“That’s about it,” Edith said, her smile becoming a bit pinched. Thomasin chalked it up to nerves, which she was more than happy to put to rest.