Nocturna

by Maya Motayne

  “Everyone needs a troublemaker in their life,” Dez had said with a wink.

  Alfie’s eyes drifted from the deftly carved fox to Finn’s face. He hadn’t really understood what Dez had meant by that until now.

  “Keep it,” Alfie said, his throat burning. “It suits you, and Dez would have liked you.” He couldn’t help but smile at that. Dez would’ve laughed until his sides ached at Finn’s crackling wit and brusque attitude. “I don’t think he’d mind you having it.”

  Finn pocketed the fox once more. She could’ve said something pitying, like she was “sorry for his loss” or another one of those neatly wrapped, sad little phrases that rang hollow in his ears. Instead she smirked up at him, her eyes alight.

  “Of course he would’ve liked me. I’m a maldito delight.”

  On the sixth morning, Alfie carried a tray of breakfast to her room only to find the bed messy as ever, but empty.

  She’d left without saying goodbye.

  A note was left on her pillow that said she had to “get her affairs in order,” which Alfie took to mean that she was on her way out of the city and maybe Castallan entirely. Out of his life. The note had also told him to meet her in the Pinch one last time. Now that note sat in his pocket heavy as a stone as he and Luka waited for her to appear.

  “You look like you’re about to turn into a rain cloud,” Luka said while munching on freshly buttered corn on the cob sprinkled with cheese and chili flakes.

  “I’m just thinking,” Alfie said.

  “I wonder about what . . . Or who?” Luka said, his voice meandering playfully. Alfie shot him a quelling look, but Luka only laughed. “You know, you’ve got to admit. Fate was really at work when it came to you two.”

  “Luka—”

  “It’s like those old, epic love stories. Good versus evil and a bickering pair that end up falli—”

  “Luka,” Alfie snapped.

  Luka raised his hands in surrender, his corn cob leaning crooked. “All I mean to say is that the gods seem to have been conspiring to put you two in the same room.”

  “And in the end you nearly had to die for it to happen.”

  Luka made a face at Alfie that said, Must you make everything so dreary?

  Alfie shot him a look that said, Yes.

  Luka glanced over Alfie’s shoulder, a smile curving his lips. “Better make it count, then. My life is worth quite a lot, maybe even a goodbye kiss or two.”

  He inclined his head over Alfie’s shoulder. Alfie turned to see Finn approaching them. A hood was drawn over her face, but he knew her by her walk, by how she slipped through the crowd like water. When Alfie turned back, Luka was gone. He was already speeding away into the crowd, giving Alfie two boisterous thumbs-up.

  Finn came to a stop before him and because neither could think of what to say, she simply walked past him. He followed.

  “You left before I could give you your chest of gold,” Alfie said, breaking the silence. “I never took you as the type to forget a payment.”

  “I didn’t,” Finn said, her lips curving into a smirk. “I stopped by the vault on my way out. We’re square. For now.”

  Alfie’s brows rose and a surprised chuckle rumbled in his chest, as if he was chiding himself for not guessing as much.

  “You could’ve said goodbye.” His voice was softer now. “Instead of disappearing—”

  “Like a thief in the night,” Finn supplied with a mischievous grin.

  Alfie only looked at her then, the hurt in his gold eyes making her joke feel almost cruel.

  She shrugged and looked anywhere but his face, a string of guilt pulling tight within her. “I felt like a house cat in there; I had to get out. It’s not as if I up and left the city.”

  “Yet,” he said. The word sat heavy between them.

  “Yet.” She nodded.

  She wasn’t exactly lying to him, but not quite telling the truth either. On her fifth night in the palace she’d been thinking about when to leave when a loud knock rapped at her door. She knew it wasn’t Alfie. His knocks were quiet, hesitant, thoughtful, as if worried she might be asleep regardless of the time. Annoyed at herself for being able to distinguish his knocks, Finn had barked, “Enter if you must.”

  In strode Bathtub Boy. Without preamble he perched on the edge of her bed and stared at her, assessing her with a sweep of his dark eyes.

  Finn cocked her head at him. “Is this about the whole breaking your arm thing?”

  Luka waved his hand. “No, no, that’s all forgiven. However,” he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Is that so?” Finn said, amused.

  Luka nodded. “Alfie says your trade is thieving goods, but you seem just as adept at thieving hearts.”

  Finn stared at him blankly. “Was that as embarrassing to say as it was to hear?”

  “I was going for charming and clever, but I’ll take that.”

  Finn rolled her eyes. “What are you really trying to ask me?”

  Luka leaned forward. “I know your type.”

  “My type?” She snorted. “I’m afraid there’s only one of me. I’m a bit too original to warrant a type.”

  Luka rolled his eyes. “You’re the type that doesn’t stick around for long. One of my favorite types to chase, actually,” he said with a far-off smile, as if he were reliving memories that Finn hoped he wouldn’t say aloud.

  “Well, you’re right about that.” Finn shrugged. “What about it?”

  Luka tilted his head and shot her a look. “You must know.”

  “Know what?”

  Luka pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just like your type to pretend not to know.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Know what?”

  “Just—” Luka began, waving his hands as if trying to fish the words he needed from the air. “Just let him down easy when you go. Be nice about it, or as nice as your type allows you to be. It’s not going to be easy for him to lose you.”

  Finn felt heat rush to her cheeks. Before she could sputter a response, Luka rose from the bed and walked to the door. “Oh, and if you tell him I spoke to you about this, I will deny it. I’ve courted eight actors and I learned much, I assure you. My lies will be convincing.” He wagged a finger at her as she watched, amused. “Don’t test me.”

  With that he was out the door. Bathtub Boy was right. Those days in the palace had begun to soften her. She’d even been thinking about staying in the city. It’d suddenly felt like there were things worth staying for. But she should know better than to get too comfortable here. When she stayed in one place, trouble always followed. She was meant to keep going, moving on. Finn was the type to leave a poisoned bottle to be drunk by someone innocent. She wasn’t the type to befriend a prince, or anyone for that matter. So she’d scrawled the prince a note and crept out of the palace.

  Alfie’s voice drew her back to the present.

  “Where will you go?” he asked, his voice soft and desperate. Finn wanted to bottle the sound so that she might uncork it and listen to it whenever she needed a reason to smile. Or frown. He cleared his throat.

  “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be much of a getaway, would it?”

  “I suppose not,” Alfie said.

  “I can’t just go around telling people where I’ll be. I’m still a wanted woman! Many wanted women, actually. And some men too.”

  “I know.” Alfie regarded her with a sad sliver of a smile. “You are very much wanted. More than you know.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment before Alfie tore his eyes away to open his bag. For a moment it looked as if he were pulling nothing but air out of it. But then she realized what it was. The vanishing cloak.

  “Take it,” he said.

  “I shouldn’t.” The words sounded strange coming from her mouth. She was usually more interested in whether she could, not if she should. And the cloak would be a useful thing to own for anyone, let alone a thief. But the cloak was what connected them and what nea
rly unraveled the world in the process. The weight of it was too much. She knew it would draw her back here.

  Back to him.

  His eyes softened. “I gave it to you days ago. It’s already yours.”

  Finn wondered if he was talking about the cloak or something else entirely.

  She watched him pinch the invisible cloak by the shoulders. The wind unfurled it, letting it sway in her direction. She could feel it flick against her chest. Then he stepped closer and reached around her to place it on her shoulders.

  “No thieving necessary,” he said.

  For so long, Finn had placed value on the things she owned based on the difficulty of taking them from someone else, how long it took her to plan, how much the owner would miss it, how much she might be able to get should she pawn it off. Though the cloak was a gift, she knew it would be the most cherished thing she’d ever call hers. Alfie smoothed the shoulders of the cloak and smiled down at her.

  She was astounded by how he could smile and still look heartbroken, grin and still draw her toward him as if he’d cried out in pain.

  “I have something for you too, then,” she said. Alfie raised an eyebrow. “It’s only fair.”

  “You’re not usually one for fair.”

  “So you don’t want it, then, Prince?”

  He gave a bark of laughter, a short, wonderful sound. “Of course I want it, thief.”

  “Then quiet down so I can give it to you.”

  She stood still, and Alfie watched her, his head cocked to the side. She would miss the way he felt things with his entire body, his whole being shifting into a question mark when he was confused, and the way his grin unfurled slowly, like a cat stretching after a nap.

  She dashed those thoughts away, exhaled a long, deep breath, and placed her hands over her face. A long moment passed. If she were anyone else, it would’ve looked like she was trying to hide her tears.

  “Finn, wha—”

  “A moment, Prince!” she snapped, looking through her fingers to watch his reaction. He rolled his eyes but grinned all the same.

  Finally, the work done, Finn let her hands drop. Beneath lay a face he’d never seen her wear. The eyes were large and brown with a thick fringe of lashes. There was a dot of a birthmark under the left eye and a thin slash through the right eyebrow, a scar that stopped the hair from growing. The top lip was fuller than the lower and the face was heart-shaped, the forehead wide while the jawline tapered to a soft point of a chin.

  Finn watched it dawn on him, watched him realize that this was her face, the one she’d been born with. She’d peeled the magic away and stripped herself of her armor.

  She’d let him truly see her.

  She tilted her chin up and held his gaze stubbornly, the same way she did anything else. She tried to assess his reaction, daring him to say something stupid. Something that would give her the excuse she needed to go back to cloaking herself in a mask of magic for the rest of her days. But the prince only smiled, his face filling with light.

  “Thank you,” he said. Then again. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she muttered. Another phrase she wasn’t used to, but it felt right when the words were for his ears.

  Alfie raised his arms slightly, looking as if he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping his bounds. Finn’s body moved before her mind could signal. She embraced him with such force that he stumbled back before wrapping his arms around her.

  In that moment, there was only the two of them and the knowledge that a door between them was about to close and lock, the key lost somewhere in the sea that would soon sweep them apart.

  The chimes of the two-faced clock rang out to signal sunset, shattering the moment.

  People rushed by as if this day were any other. The sea sloshed and roiled, pulling ships toward the dock just as easily as it carried them worlds away. Finn pulled free of the embrace, turned on her heel, and walked away.

  Goodbye seemed too final a word. She refused to say it. He must have felt the same way, because she’d made it only a few strides when she heard his voice again.

  “I’ll see you around,” the prince called.

  She turned to face him, walking backward.

  “No,” she said with a vulpine grin. “You won’t.”

  The thief pulled the hood of the vanishing cloak over her head and disappeared.

  Acknowledgments

  Books are messy things.

  I thought I knew this after working as an editorial assistant for two years, but I understand it more clearly now that I’ve written my own book. I know now more than ever that writing is a team sport, and without my team, there would be no book in your hands and nothing but the tangles of a story in my head.

  First, I want to thank Hillary Jacobson and Alexandra Machinist. You two are an amazing duo of dream agents, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have both of you in my corner. You’ve been my champions from day one. This book exists because you two believed in me first.

  Thank you to my amazing editor, Kristin Rens, who challenged me to push myself and, most importantly, to trust myself. Writing books is never easy but writing a first novel feels like a singular sort of challenge. I could not have asked for a better editor or a better person to lead me and ask me all the tough questions. Thank you so much for everything, and I can’t wait to write the rest of this series with you.

  And thank you to Kelsey Murphy for all your hard work on this book. From one former editorial assistant to another, I truly appreciate all that you do.

  I also want to thank the HarperCollins team, from editorial to marketing to sales to production and onward. Thank you for taking my story and turning it into a book.

  To Lauren Pires, Ari Romano, and Thalia Ertman, my indestructible high school squad (aka The Fantastic 4). Thank you for supporting me since I was an awkward teenager who shyly admitted I wanted to write books and cheering me on now that I’m a slightly less awkward adult who shrugs and says “Yeah, I write books I guess” when people ask me what I do.

  To Taylor Lewis, Codi Guggliuzza, Norine Mckee, Ashley Delaney, Andrew Lim, and Marlena Chertok, my college crew. We met in a creative writing program, but during those years I learned more about friendship and trusting myself than I did writing, and that’s thanks to each of you. A special thank-you to Norine, who read the book first in its earliest draft and told me that it, in fact, only sucked a little. And another thanks to Codi who repeatedly said “Just do it already!” when I was sitting in her apartment, too scared to send my manuscript out to agents.

  Thank you, Hannah Milton. You’ve supported me since the day we became roommates at Columbia University and spent our first night in NYC reading each other’s stories while everyone else went barhopping. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  A big thanks to Marisa Dinovis, who pushed me to try #DVpit; Kristina Forest, who was always there to listen to me panic about writing; Kate Sullivan, who constantly assured me that I wasn’t a total idiot; and Grace Weatherall, who sent me what I consider my very first piece of fan mail. Your encouragement really changed my life.

  The internet once sagely told me that you’ve got to get roasted if you ever wanna get toasted. Thank you, Whitley Birks, for being an amazing beta-reader and effectively roasting me within an inch of my life. Both the book and I grew from the critiques you gave me. I can’t thank you enough.

  Thank you, Sandy Liang. You taught me to do a push-up and so much more. I am stronger, inside and out, because of you.

  To Margot Levin, thank you for listening to me and helping me remember why I love to write in the first place.

  Thank you to the University of Maryland’s Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House for giving me the resources I needed to become the author I am today. I hope you get all the funding you and your students so deserve. (I’m looking at you, ever-shrinking UMD arts budget!)

  Thank you to Eva Freeman, who was my very first creative writing teacher in college. You encouraged me to put my words on
paper even when I was afraid to, and I am forever grateful for that. Having a woman of color as my first creative writing teacher was an amazing experience, and I hope I can give other writers half the inspiration you gave me. I’m so happy that we’ve reunited in NYC, and I can’t wait to share this book with Jonah and Micah when they’re old enough!

  To Carlea Holl-Jensen and Keke Kusumaatmadja, thank you for all the long, after-class meetings and for believing in my work. You both were amazing teachers who pushed me to see myself as a writer in the present tense instead of someone trying to become a writer in the distant, inconceivable future. I am forever in your debt for that. I hope we can meet up at Busboys and Poets again soon!

  A big thank-you to Sweetleaf LIC and its entire staff for giving me a place to write, and a special thanks to Andrea Garcia, Kevin Burgos, and Desiree Camacho. Thank you for all the brownie bites and guidance on which Spanish curse words to use, and for watching me make funny faces at my laptop for a year straight without kicking me out.

  Another thank-you to the Hungarian Pastry Shop, where I spent a year and a half writing my very first draft and devouring slice after slice of your amazing cakes. I can’t wait to give you a photo of my cover so it can be featured on your wall of amazing books that have been written in your legendary shop.

  To my family—my mom and dad and stepmom, my sisters, my wild band of cousins (LFAM for life!), and my aunts and uncles—thank you for patiently waiting after hearing me ramble about wanting to write books since I was four years old. It only took twenty-two years, so I think I made it right on time.

  And, of course, thank you to you too. Thank you for giving me, Alfie, and Finn a spot on your bookshelf, under your bed, on your desk, or in your heart. Wherever you keep your books, we’re honored to be there.

  About the Author

  Photo by Tochi Mgbenwelu