Chapter 14
Moments into this new partnership and I already regretted it.
It wasn’t merely that Evander and I possessed the unfortunate combination of two strong personalities accustomed to each getting our own way—though that alone promised endless conflict.
Worse than vying for control was the unsettling effect he had on me.
I had always relied on my instincts to guide me through danger, yet around him those instincts felt strangely unreliable, as though the compass of my judgment had begun to spin out of my control.
Which made the first task of our partnership all the more inconvenient: escaping the locked room together, a feat made all the more challenging with the secret passageway’s disappearance.
The challenge might have felt like a welcome puzzle had I been alone.
But with Evander watching my every move, the game carried an unfamiliar edge of anxiety.
A quick perusal of the room didn’t reveal any other concealed passages.
I stared longingly towards the window, the most convenient solution under normal circumstances.
I doubted the option was feasible for a man who’d spent his life as a pampered prince.
But he had surprised me on more than one occasion.
“Does your regal skillset happen to extend to escaping through the window or scaling walls?” I asked hopefully.
He lifted a brow. “I should have suspected such a question after witnessing you on the rooftop, yet I still find myself surprised. Unfortunately, I’ve always lived my life with both feet firmly on the ground; I haven’t so much as climbed a tree.”
Unsurprising, yet disappointing all the same. Escape would have been within easy reach had I been alone…at least as long as the cursed weariness didn’t strike again. Strangely, I didn’t feel too much regret at the added complication, which only deepened my annoyance.
“Too bad,” I said. “I might have found you more interesting.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps one day you can teach me when the stakes aren’t quite so pressing; it can be a courtship outing.”
My heart fluttered at the thought before I could stop it. “I’m only interested in stealing objects, not hearts.”
He gave me a searing look. “What of your heart? Is it available for the taking?”
My cheeks burned and I hastily looked away, but I couldn’t escape the powerful force of the flirtation between us, holding me captive. I tried my best to ignore it as I crossed to the door and tested the handle again, as if stubbornness alone might undo the lock. It did not.
I’d studied this lock obsessively the last time I’d been locked in, but its enchantment had proved beyond my skill.
I’d hoped that, like the room’s shifting layout and vanished passageway, it might have changed…
only for that hope to shrivel the moment I recognized the same intricate spell that had barred me before.
Irritation flared. I’d encountered my share of challenges throughout my career, but never had I been so defeated by magic as I had in this castle that seemed to delight in besting me.
I should have known that the changes to my reality wouldn’t be in my favor, as if the world itself conspired to keep me caged.
Of all the times to be thwarted by a lock beyond my usual capability, it had to be in front of this infuriatingly handsome man.
I hated that something so trivial unsettled me.
“That lock appears to be giving you trouble.” Evander leaned casually against the nearby wall, arms crossed in a picture of aggravating ease. “If glaring at the lock was all that was required, I suspect you would already be halfway down the corridor. Do you need assistance?”
I cast him an annoyed sidelong glance at the irritating interruption. “And if wit were of any practical use, you might have proven it by now. I doubt this is within the ability of someone who’s led an existence so boring he’s never climbed a tree.”
“While I never learned that particular talent in decorum training, I did pick up another useful skill on my own: lock-picking.”
All words failed me when he suddenly stepped closer—too close. The space between us vanished until scarcely a breath separated us. My breath hitched and my lungs seemed to forget their purpose as his gaze lowered to my lips with a focus that unraveled everything else.
For one wild, unguarded instant, a treacherous thought took hold: He’s going to kiss me.
The realization struck with such force to render me motionless that I failed to react when his hand lifted towards my hair.
For the briefest instant, his movement slowed—as though he, too, felt the pull of the moment and nearly gave in to it.
The air between us held, suspended; time itself seemed to pause to witness what he would do.
His gaze flickered once to my parted lips, a fleeting but undeniable acknowledgement of the same dangerous thought that had taken hold of me.
Instead his fingers lightly brushed a loose strand near my temple, the fleeting contact sending a wholly inappropriate warmth racing down my spine.
Something slipped free. He held up a slender pin between two fingers, turning it so it caught the candlelight.
“I expected sharper reflexes from a master thief.”
Regret struck before I could smother it. For one reckless instant, I’d thought he meant to kiss me. Worse still, some traitorous part of me hadn’t entirely minded the idea. I hoped against hope that I hadn’t blushed or done anything that might betray my misinterpretation of his intentions.
I stiffened, forcing the dangerous thought of what a kiss from Evander might feel like to retreat into whatever dark corner from which it had escaped. “Careful,” I said coolly. “I’m very particular about what I allow people to steal.”
His smile deepened slowly as he twirled the hairpin between his fingers, as though the remark pleased him far more than any protest might have. “I’ll take my chances.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure whether from embarrassment or irritation; I refused to examine the emotion too closely.
I wrangled my wild imaginings about what it would have been like if Evander’s target had been my lips rather than my hairpin into reluctant submission and summoned the composure I relied upon during every heist. I raised my hands in a show of adjusting my hair that was now missing a pin, hoping to hide any telltale redness on my face.
“Your assistance is unnecessary,” I snapped as I tucked a strand into place a little too severely.
“I know how to pick a lock. I merely require more time.” Picking locks wasn’t merely something I prided myself on—it was a part of my identity, the thief who couldn’t be restrained.
I’d had to accept defeat here, but the thought of a pampered royal strolling up and completing what I’d failed at was unbearable.
He chuckled. “I don’t doubt you or your abilities, but I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I allowed you to do the dirty work. Give a man a chance to show off.” He winked.
I opened my mouth to retort, but he’d already swaggered to the door and crouched before the lock.
To my annoyance and reluctant astonishment, his claims proved far from empty as he slipped the hairpin into the mechanism.
I couldn’t help but stare, transfixed, at his confident, fluid movements, working with an ease that suggested long familiarity with such work, as if his body remembered something his mind had forgotten.
I watched a long, hypnotic moment before my gaze lifted to his face, lingering on the concentration furrowing in his brow that stirred an emotion far more dangerous than annoyance.
After some fiddling, his other hand shifted, the heavy signet ring identical to his portrait catching the candlelight as his adept fingers traced the metal plate. His touch paused over a small engraved petal I hadn’t noticed, hidden within the intricate design.
He glanced up with that irritating half-smile that highlighted his adorable dimple, catching sight of my fixation before I could hide it. “You look offended,” he said brightly.
I snorted. “At being locked in? Naturally.”
“No.” His mouth curved. “At the possibility that I might be better at this than you.”
The accusation was annoyingly accurate. I folded my arms, determined not to give him the satisfaction of confirmation.
As I searched for the perfect retort, he returned his attention to the engraved crest. He twisted it once and pressed the edge of the signet into the tiny indentation worked into the metal—a detail I had completely overlooked.
My frustration faltered into reluctant fascination as the lock shifted subtly beneath the pressure.
Evander seemed just as surprised. The furrow in his brow deepened, but his hands continued with quiet certainty, the hairpin turning in the mechanism as the edge of the signet ring nudged the hidden catch.
The lock yielded with a soft, obedient click. The sound echoed through the stillness, signifying his claim of yet another victory. I cursed. “How did you do that?”
I expected gloating, but he only looked down at his hand, as though it had acted without consulting him. His smile faltered. “I don’t know. I think someone once taught me…though I’m not sure who, only that they were really important to me.”
That vague answer should have frustrated me, but what unsettled me more was the thrill that stirred at the sight of him defeating the lock before I could…the secret part of me that took pleasure in being bested.
Aggravating man. The insult rang hollow, a flimsy defense I clung to out of habit.
In truth, I welcomed his wit, drawn to it by a force far stronger than even the most tempting stolen prize.
I found myself savoring his victories, dangerously inclined to enjoy being outmatched…
which made him all the more perilous, especially when there were some games I could not afford to lose.