by M. Lynn
Noble Thief © 2019 M. Lynn
* * *
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Edited by Melissa Craven
Proofread by Patrick Hodges
Cover by Covers by Combs
Contents
The Six Kingdoms
The Castle of Gaule
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
What’s Next?
Cursed Beauty
About M. Lynn
For Mom and Dad.
Your support is always the most important part of anything I do.
The Castle of Gaule
Chapter One
Amalie Leroy should have been used to spending her nights in the wild, but something about their mission still tugged at her. Darkness cloaked their movements as they passed through the shadowy trees.
It didn’t feel right.
Not what they were about to do—that was the right thing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it was all going to go horribly wrong. Why this night? They’d done this same thing many times before and returned home safely before the sun rose.
To the east lay the village on her estate. Yes, hers. She was Amalie Leroy, daughter of the traitorous duke who led his villagers in a battle against the crown in order to keep magic from their kingdom. Now, she was the only resident of their grand family home.
What was a noble lady doing skulking about in the night? Why was she surrounded by commoners—some of them once-crooks?
Because she had no other choice. She had to make up for the pain her family caused.
And that village to the east? They were starving. All of Gaule was starving while the fat nobles ate at their pleasure.
Pulling her hood up to hide her chestnut hair, Amalie glanced to the man at her side.
He shot her a grin as if this was all great fun.
“John,” she hissed. “We’ve come across no tracks in the last hour. Are you sure this was the route they took?”
He gave her the same look he’d been giving her since they were children running through the village. It was an eyeroll meaning “think before you speak, Amalie.”
Rain drizzled through the canopy overhead as Amalie scanned her surroundings. She’d been friends with John since she was six years old. Her father tried to stop the association with the orphan village boy, but at times, they were all each other had.
Until Tyson… she shook her head, needing to erase him from her mind. At least for the night. She could think about him tomorrow, as she always did after nights like this one.
Her feet stuck in the mud with each step and it oozed around her boots as she tried to move. “The mud is covering their tracks.”
John nodded, pride showing in his eyes. He was a few years older and had always acted like a big brother, teaching her to track and to hunt. When she’d decided to find a way to feed her people, he hadn’t hesitated in joining her. In fact, it was his idea to feed them this way.
“They’ll have ridden through the night.” Tuck, positioned near the front of their group as he always was, bent down to examine something on the ground. He straightened and held up a curved metal horseshoe. “With any luck, it’s one of the wagon beasts’.”
Amalie pushed through her band of men to Tuck’s side, reaching for the muddy shoe he offered. The young friar had joined them when she’d needed someone to help her make sense of the life she’d chosen.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “We’ve got them.”
Tuck’s mouth curved up in a smile, and he nodded. “That we do, my lady.” He sometimes insisted on the formal title, knowing it bothered her. After a year of having Tuck by her side, she realized it was just who he was.
“Come on.” Amalie led the band through the twisted woods. “They’ll have made for the village for a new shoe. We need to catch them on the road.” She pulled her bow from where she’d strapped it to her back.
Over three years ago, she’d had her first taste of battle when she rode through the Gaulean palace gates to face her father, to protect those with magic. And again, when she joined Alexandre Durand as he led a small group to Dracon to aid in the fighting there.
She’d had no skill, no knowledge.
But in the years since, she’d trained until her fingers couldn’t draw a bow any longer. She’d hardened her body and her mind. She’d become a warrior, fighting for her people, giving up everything dear to her to protect them.
The caravan they searched out carried an entire shipment of food to the Ferenz estate in the west. The Leroy lands were in the center of Gaule, positioned to pick off any shipments that passed through. And she enjoyed enraging Duke Ferenz, the man who’d taken control of the Moreau lands, forcing the duchess from her ancestral home.
At the edge of the trees, they saw them. Four heavily laden wagons rumbled in the distance. The roads of Gaule weren’t safe for anyone so waggoneers no longer made camp each night. They slept in the back of moving wagons and ate on the road.
“Do you see any guards?” Amalie asked.
John shook his head. “That’s strange, right?”
Royal guards avoided entering the village. They received a cold welcome and suspicion. Amalie smiled to herself, enjoying the thought of her people keeping the guards away
As much as she once loved the royal family, she’d never trust them or their guard again. They’d allowed Gaule to descend into hunger and chaos.
Amalie lifted her bow, tracking the waggoneers with one eye closed. She lowered it, knowing they were too far even for her. “I’m just as likely to kill as wound at this distance.”
“Ames.” John urged. “We can’t lose them.” Before she could stop him, he lifted his own bow and released an arrow.
The moment froze in time as they watched the arrow arch through the sky, disappearing in the dark.
A scream echoed from the torch bearing waggoneers. Amalie didn’t smile in satisfaction because worry gnawed at her.
Tuck released a string of curses. “You might have killed someone.”
He was right. There was no way to control where the arrow hit at this distance. But John wasn’t one to play it safe. That trait had both endeared him to her and made her wary. They were all tired of waggoneers and guards and nobles who
took advantage of her people, but her band of men operated under a code. They weren’t killers. Or, at least they tried not to be.
“Come on.” She jumped to her feet and took off, hoping the darkness would hide her approach.
Her men, following her every order, thundered after her.
Waggoneers, already on high alert from the arrow, yelled as they saw the oncoming horde.
Without slowing her steps, Amalie fired three arrows, each finding their target on the legs of men scrambling for their weapons.
John passed her, dropping his shoulder to ram into a man too slow to draw his sword. The pair dropped to the ground. John took the man’s sword and rammed the hilt into his head. The guard stopped fighting and John leapt for another.
Amalie always loved watching him fight. He was more of a brawler than a swordsman. He had to be strong, growing up in a village her father controlled.
They made quick work of the rest of the men until a circle of unconscious figures surrounded them.
Amalie turned to Will, a monster of a man. He wasn’t a Gaulean, and she loved him more for it. “Drag these men into the woods. We don’t want any bandits to come upon them before they’re awake to defend themselves.” She examined their wounds. “We will send word to the village for a healer.”
“Maiya?” Tuck asked, referring to the Draconian who healed with her inherited magic.
Amalie shook her head. “I don’t want her near them. It’s too dangerous.”
The Madran mercenary nodded and bent to haul a man over his shoulder.
“Ames,” John called. “You need to come.”
She ran to his side and looked into the face of the man lying before them, horror slicing through her.
Simon.
The queen’s own guard. An arrow protruded from his stomach. There was too much blood.
“He’s not going to make it.” John put a hand on her shoulder.
She shook him off. He didn’t know who was in front of them. Of course, he didn’t. She’d never talked much about her time at the palace. It was too painful.
“He has to make it.” She wiped a hand across her face. Was she about to ruin everything? There was no choice. “Tuck,” she called. The lithe man appeared at her side. “Take a horse and get this man to the estate… before he dies.” She paused. “We can allow Maiya to help this one.”
Unlike John who didn’t hide his confusion, Tuck gave a shrug of acceptance and went to unhitch a horse from the wagon.
Amalie’s men examined the wagonloads of fruit, cabbage, and grain.
As Tuck and John hoisted Simon onto the horse, a thought came to Amalie.
She pulled John away from the others when Tuck left. “What was Simon doing with a band of waggoneers?”
John’s brows drew together. “I’m not sure who Simon is.”
She sighed. “That man I sent with Tuck is the queen’s personal guard.”
His eyes widened before shifting toward the woods. “She sent him to guard them.”
She nodded. “And where there’s one guard, there’s—”
Shouting cut off her words as men broke from the trees, darting across the uneven terrain, dodging rocks and roots like ghosts in the night.
“Get to the village,” Amalie yelled.
Their people would protect them.
The guards were on horseback but her band was much closer to the village. Amalie ran as fast as her legs allowed. John never left her side.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins until all she could hear was a rushing wind drowning out the hammering of her heart.
They didn’t slow until the dirt road turned into a cobblestone street and squat ramshackle buildings rose on either side. The guards neared, their approach deafening as horse hooves hit stone.
John veered into an alleyway and Amalie followed. He leapt for the edge of a roof, and his legs collided with the side of the building as he hung from the terracotta stones. His wine-colored hair blazed in the night when threw his head back and strained his muscles. Using his feet against the wall, he pulled himself onto the roof before extending a hand down to her.
Amalie didn’t hesitate taking it. With his help, she pulled herself up. Her bow clattered to the ground and for a moment, she stopped. But there was no time to retrieve it.
The buildings stood only inches from each other, allowing Amalie and John to escape over the flat roofs.
An arrow sailed toward them, but Amalie ducked, managing to stay on her feet. She sprinted across the rooftops, leaping from one to the next. Up ahead, the buildings parted for an alley. She charged ahead and jumped across the wide gap, rolling as she landed. She popped back up.
Another arrow arced through the sky and a yelp of pain sounded beside her. John fell to his knees, the arrow shaft protruding from his thigh.
“John,” she screamed, scrambling toward him.
“Don’t stop, Ames,” he wheezed. “Don’t let them see who you are.”
“I’m not leaving you.” She glanced back over her shoulder to where two guards had climbed onto the roof.
“You have to. I can’t run.” He gripped her hand. “What you’re doing is good. But if anyone finds out about you, it’s over. Who would the people have to protect them then?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “John.”
“Go.”
She placed her forehead against his. “I will come for you. Wherever they take you, I’ll come.”
He nodded before pushing her away.
Amalie couldn’t look back again as her feet took her from one of the most important people in her life. John was her brother, whether they shared blood or not.
But he was right.
There was more at stake.
The guards stopped when they reached John, letting her fade into the night. She slipped over the edge of the roof at the next alleyway, dangling by her fingertips before dropping to the ground.
Glancing down the street, she saw no further pursuit, so she made her way across the village to the estate house she’d always called home.
She slipped through the street side door to the barracks, allowing her to avoid being seen at the gates. Only her most trusted people knew of her nighttime occupation.
A few men lingered about, but these particular barracks housed only those who were part of her merry band of men, seeking justice in a world that had none. Most had yet to return.
She breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes settled on Will. He rushed forward, wrapping her in a tight hug.
“The others?” he asked.
She shifted her eyes away. “I don’t know.” She wasn’t ready to tell her men of John yet. He was her second in command and truly beloved.
What were they going to do without him?
She walked from the barracks unable to find the words of comfort her people needed. They were ambushed. It wasn’t the first time they’d fought on their missions, but it was the first time the guard had been waiting for them.
They were no longer an anonymous group of bandits. The queen had taken notice.
She’d almost forgotten about Simon until she walked into the estate house and crossed the stripped down rooms in the front. She refused to live in an ornate home when her people suffered.
Simon lay in the sitting room with Maiya tending his injuries. Tuck hovered nearby.
Simon’s gaze found her, scanning the dark green hood still covering her hair and the outfit that was not fit for a noble lady. Loose-fitting pants that made it easy to run, a cotton tunic, and mud covered boots.
His gaze hardened. “The Hood.”
She nodded. There was no use denying it. She’d heard her people use the nickname, but it was with a lot more warmth than Simon currently possessed.
Maiya stood. “My healing took a lot of your energy. You will need a few days to recover.”
Simon pushed himself from the couch. “No. I will leave now.”
Amalie flicked her eyes to Tuck who’d moved to stand by the half-open do
or.
“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that.” Amalie crossed her arms over her chest.
Simon’s jaw tensed. “Taking prisoners now, Amalie?”
She saw the accusation in his eyes. He wasn’t the first person to think it. Her father had been a traitor, maybe it was in the blood.
But there was a difference. Her father did what he did to serve himself. He betrayed a king who’d only wanted to make life better in Gaule. Now their queen had lost control of the kingdom. Amalie only wanted to end the needless suffering.
Simon wouldn’t understand that. His blind loyalty was his greatest fault. Queen Catrine could do no wrong.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess I am.” To Tuck, she said, “Get him set up in one of the guest rooms. Make sure he has everything he needs.” She flicked her eyes to Simon once more. “Remember, his magic emboldens his strength. I want four men guarding him. Then find your own bed. It has been a long night.”
She stepped into the hall with Maiya close behind. The caramel-skinned healer said nothing. She’d lived in Amalie’s household for over a year now. She too was the daughter of a traitor. Her father betrayed Queen Etta of Bela in the war with Dracon. He even forced her own betrayal.
After that, the girl felt she had no place in the world. Not in Bela or Dracon. Amalie had the same feeling inside her so she’d taken her in, and now Maiya could read her with a single glance. She knew something was horribly wrong.
And yet, she only waited.
Reality crashed in around Amalie as everything struck her at once.
“John…” Her entire body shook. “The queen’s men have him.”
