Midnight Thief

by Livia Blackburne

  “Check his hands,” said Tristam, tearing his eyes away from Kyra. “See if they’re coated with anything.”

  At Leyus’s orders, a Demon Rider inspected James’s limp hands. “They are covered with something like wax,” he said. “I can scrape it off with my fingernail.”

  Tristam nodded. “The coating protects his skin from poison. James betrayed you today.”

  Kyra slumped forward, exhausted, as her demon cat instincts slowly seeped away. She watched as Leyus knelt next to James, inspecting the assassin’s hands himself. He went to the basket of garments and bent down to smell them.

  “You’re right.” Leyus turned to Kyra. “The clan owes you its gratitude. We do not take debts of blood lightly.”

  He paused. Around them, the clan seemed to hold its breath. Kyra stayed still, unsure of what this meant.

  “You are free to go, as is the knight.”

  Kyra bowed her head, mind reeling. Was that it? Would they forgive her betrayal just like that? “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  Leyus smiled thinly. “Don’t be too grateful. This pays our debt in full. If we meet again, we will start anew.”

  The crowd dissipated, transforming one by one into cat shape and melting into the forest. They made no attempt to hide their shape-shifting from Tristam. Would they just let the knight go, knowing their secret? Tristam watched the Makvani with fascination and confusion. When he noticed her gaze, he turned toward her. Kyra turned away, remembering the fear she’d seen before and unable to face it again.

  “Kyra.” It was Pashla again. “You and the knight will come with me. We will put you in the shelter tonight and escort you back tomorrow.”

  Tristam dragged himself to his feet, suppressing a cough, and Kyra followed suit.

  “Pashla,” said Kyra. “Your shape-shifting. Will it be all right now that…”

  “Now that the human knows?” asked Pashla. Kyra winced at Pashla’s use of the term. “It’s fine. They always find out eventually. It is a hard secret to keep. If Leyus has ruled to spare his life, you need not worry about him.”

  Pashla’s voice was calm, without any hint of anger. But her face was more closed to Kyra than she had ever seen. It hurt, but Kyra was too exhausted to do anything except acknowledge it. They walked the rest of the way in silence. At the shelter, Pashla tended both their wounds, although she told Tristam that her saliva wouldn’t be as effective for him. Another clanswoman came with some food, then both Makvani left, leaving Kyra and Tristam alone.

  Kyra studied the ground, the trees, anything to avoid looking at him. A strong wind blew through the tent, bringing down a shower of leaves around them.

  “Are you really going to make me ask for an explanation, Kyra?”

  She didn’t want to talk about it, couldn’t talk about it without the threat of memories she wasn’t ready to relive. But she also couldn’t avoid facing him forever.

  “I didn’t know,” she said miserably.

  “Know what?”

  “Anything.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “When the Demon Riders found me at the Guildhouse, they told me I was part Makvani.”

  He was quiet, eyes cast toward the ground but focused beyond it. “And they taught you how to change into a cat.”

  “Pashla thought it worth trying. But it never happened until…” She trailed off.

  “Until you faced James?” he asked. He raised his eyes to her face now, and she couldn’t tell if it was dread or wonder in his eyes.

  “I had no idea. I wasn’t even trying,” she said. “You don’t have to believe me.”

  He paused. “I believe you. I don’t think you’d be shaking so much if you were lying.”

  Kyra wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to squeeze herself still. “You fear me,” she said.

  “I’d be a fool not to,” he said.

  It was one thing to know it, but another altogether to hear him say it so plainly. Kyra rounded on him in fury. “I saved your life back there. You of all people—”

  Tristam laid a hand on her wrist, gentle but firm. “I’m sorry, Kyra. That came out wrong. I only meant that any creature capable of what you did deserves respect. But what I saw doesn’t change the fact that you saved my life, or that you disobeyed your…people…to protect me.” He let out a long breath. “I’ve harbored doubts about you before, Kyra. First because you were in the Guild, and then when I thought you’d betrayed me to the Demon Riders. And each time, I was wrong. I’m not making the same mistake again.” He paused. “Though there might be problems ahead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking about the Council. You’re still under a death sentence that we need to clear. It’ll be hard to prove you aren’t a threat to Forge if you’re one of them.”

  Kyra closed her eyes. “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we can keep this hidden.”

  “James will rat me out as soon as we turn him over.”

  “He might, but who would believe him?”

  “Mayhap for a while, but people would start to wonder. And notice things.”

  Neither of them mentioned the next logical step—that this problem would disappear if James did as well. But Kyra only contemplated it a moment before thrusting the thought aside. She’d had that opportunity already. Plus, James still had too many secrets—about the Guild, the Palace, and even the Makvani. She owed it to Bella, to the others who’d suffered in the fire, to get those secrets out of him.

  Tristam exhaled. “I can send for Malikel once we’re closer to the city. He’s a skilled negotiator. If we can win him over, perhaps he can convince the Council to put you on probation.”

  Probation? A prisoner again, after all she had gone through? Instead of James’s lackey, she would be the Palace’s. What other uses would Willem find for her?

  “Or…” Tristam’s voice was hesitant. “You could run.”

  Kyra gave him a questioning glance. Tristam looked around and lowered his voice, as if worried that Palace officials might hear him. “The Council already doesn’t trust you. If they find out what you are, I don’t know what they’ll do. I could tell them I never found you. You could flee to Parna. Start over.” There was an urgency in his words, though he spoke softly.

  “You’d lie to them?” Kyra knew Tristam well enough by now to know how much this would cost him.

  There was the slightest of pauses as Tristam’s eyes grew distant again. “I won’t pretend I like the idea. But I would do it.”

  The idea of leaving Forge had never occurred to her, but it was certainly possible. Every city had rich houses with bad locks. But she’d be alone. A petty thief in a strange city.

  “I can’t….”

  “The Council might kill you, Kyra, if they knew the truth.” There was real fear in his eyes, enough to scare her into reconsidering. But she was tired of reacting, of running from every new threat. If she really could do so much, if so many people wanted her skills, why was she at everyone’s mercy?

  “Tell me,” she asked. “How much is James worth to the Council?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if I don’t give them James until they’ve agreed to my pardon?”

  He turned a wary eye to her. “That’s a dangerous plan.”

  “So is fleeing the city, or meekly turning myself in. I’ll get my pardon, and then I’ll lay low in the city. Wait and see how things play out with James.” She gave a resigned smile. “And if they really decide to come after me, I in’t exactly defenseless.”

  Tristam shook his head, again looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “I still can’t believe that you’re…” He trailed off.

  Kyra didn’t answer. She glimpsed shapes moving through the trees, moving on padded paws. Amber eyes blinked in and out of the darkness. And though she could see them clearly and even found them distracting, Kyra could tell from the way Tristam stared into the darkness that he saw nothing. She thought
again of how it’d felt to melt into that shape, to dissolve into lean muscle and sleek fur. Kyra felt the rush of raw instinct and bloodlust, so strong that she cried out and jerked away from Tristam, convinced that it was happening again. But moments went by and she stayed in her skin. Slowly, slowly, her heartbeat slowed to normal.

  “Kyra?” One of Tristam’s hands was raised hesitantly toward her.

  Kyra collapsed into herself and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. “It’s so strong,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right, Kyra.” Slowly, Tristam peeled Kyra’s hands from her face and held them between his own. “It’s all right.”

  She let him hold her like that, taking comfort in the solidity of his touch. They sat there, heads bowed and not speaking, until the sun set.

  Pashla met them the next morning, accompanied by three Demon Riders who would escort them to the city. Kyra had never seen Makvani shift for travel before, and she watched as closely as she could without staring. In the forest, the Makvani left their clothes where they shifted to retrieve later, or carried them in their mouths. This time, though, the Demon Riders folded their clothing carefully and tucked it into pouches with long straps. After they changed form, they threw the pouches over their necks with a flick of a paw and a well-practiced duck. Meanwhile, Kyra and Tristam readied James’s horse. The other two horses, and presumably their riders, had been killed.

  “The knight will ride the horse,” said Pashla. “I will carry you, and the prisoner will walk. He is yours to deal with as you choose, since you defeated him.” Pashla indicated James with a flick of her head. The assassin was conscious now, bound and under guard by another Demon Rider. He shot Kyra a look of pure hatred. She turned away.

  “You’ll carry me?” she asked Pashla.

  Pashla nodded. “It’s unwise for you to change your shape with prey nearby. It takes time to learn control, to keep your cat instincts from overwhelming you. Dealing with the shift takes weeks of practice and guidance.”

  “Guidance? Where would I get that?”

  “The clan is closed to you now. We cannot help you.”

  Again, spoken so unfeelingly. And again, it hurt. Kyra turned away. In the corner of her eye, she saw Pashla remove her clothes and transform. The tawny cat knelt in front of her. Kyra grabbed the loose skin at Pashla’s neck and pulled herself onto her back. Stiff fur dug into her palms.

  Pashla moved differently than a horse. Her gait was smoother, for which Kyra was grateful. As they traveled, a profound sense of loss filled her. She’d made her choice. Kyra couldn’t give up her humanity to be part of the clan, but still, she wished her departure didn’t have to be so complete. Eventually, the trees thinned, and Kyra recognized the guardhouse by the road where she and Tristam had stopped on their first trip into the forest. With a soft roar, Pashla signaled them to stop and shifted into human form.

  “We part ways here.” She gestured toward one of their Demon Rider escorts. “Czern will stay and help you watch the prisoner until you can put him under proper guard. Don’t underestimate this one.”

  Tristam eyed James grimly. “We won’t,” he said.

  Pashla nodded and then looked straight into Tristam’s eyes. “The things I have done, I did in service of the clan. I have my loyalties, as do you.”

  Kyra didn’t know what she meant, but Tristam’s jaw clenched and a myriad of emotions flashed across his face. “I understand,” he said, though his tone belied his words. Kyra wondered if the two of them had a history she didn’t know.

  The clanswoman turned to Kyra. Kyra swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For saving my life. And for teaching me to—” She fumbled for words. Between the Guild, the Palace, and the Makvani, Pashla had been the only person who hadn’t wanted to use her. The clanswoman had risked her own life for Kyra and asked nothing in return except that Kyra find a home amongst the clan. Yet this was a home in which Kyra could never belong. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

  Pashla looked at her long and hard, and Kyra finally saw it—the hurt and betrayal in the woman’s eyes. The emotions she had hidden behind a mask of calm. “You’ve made your choice, then. You prefer the humans.”

  “I grew up with them. It’s all I’ve known.” She wanted to continue, but stopped at the expression on Pashla’s face. She might as well have tried to explain to Pashla that she wanted to live with chickens.

  The clanswoman stepped away, pulling at the belt of her tunic to change back. Kyra felt a wrenching in her chest.

  “Wait,” she said. “At least give my love to the kittens. I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.”

  Pashla stopped and sighed, eyes finally softening. “That I will do. You have my word.” The clanswoman clasped Kyra’s hands. “We will meet again. I’m sure of it.”

  Yes, and I hope it will be on better terms, Kyra thought.

  She watched as Pashla transformed and rejoined the others. The three cats disappeared into the forest.

  F O R T Y

  Tristam was the first to break the silence. “Come. We’ll camp tonight away from the road and approach the Palace tomorrow.”

  Setting up camp was an uncomfortable process. Czern, the Demon Rider who’d stayed to guard James, was aloof and taciturn. He barely spoke, and he changed into cat shape after securing James to a tree, clearly uninterested in helping Kyra or Tristam with their preparations. Kyra helped Tristam gather sticks for a fire, all the while aware of James’s eyes on her. Czern wandered off briefly and returned with two rabbits, which they cooked for supper.

  As the sky darkened, Kyra slipped away from the fire into the surrounding shadows. The stars were more visible here than in the city, and she leaned against a tree, staring up at them through holes left by fallen leaves. Was she making a mistake? This plan could end with her back in the dungeons, but she had to try.

  She heard footsteps behind her. And though she’d come out here hoping for solitude, her mood lifted when she saw it was Tristam. He still walked as if it pained him, but he’d regained some color and his eyes were clear.

  “Sneaking off?” he asked.

  “I needed to clear my head.”

  “I thought the open forest made you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s better at night.”

  He was quiet, and she could imagine the thoughts turning around in his head. He spoke hesitantly. “Is that because—”

  “Probably.” She wondered if this was how it would be from now on. Every time she displayed some new character quirk, she would wonder if it came from her Makvani blood.

  He took a place next to her, and for a while, they watched the stars together. There was something comforting about his silent presence next to her. Behind them, the fire crackled and popped, casting shadows on the ground.

  “Tristam, did you really come here against orders?”

  There was the slightest hesitation before he responded. “I did.”

  “Will they give you trouble when we get back?”

  Again, a pause. “The consequences I face will be nothing compared to Martin’s fate. I’ll be fine.”

  He’d avoided giving her a straight answer. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be. I came of my own choice, as did Martin.” There was a haunted quality to his voice. His face was drawn, and he was staring intently into the forest, though Kyra was sure he couldn’t see anything. “Yet I can’t help but wonder if I should have stopped him. As much as I chafe against Councilman Willem’s leadership, I can’t deny that I led Martin to his death.”

  Kyra thought again of the young Red Shield, with his infectious smile. Then she remembered his dying screams, and her insides twisted.

  “Why do you think Martin came with you?” she asked.

  “He looked up to me, and trusted me.”

  “But he wouldn’t risk his life simply for that.”

  For a moment, it looked as if Tristam was going to argue. But then he nodded. �
�You’re right. He disagreed with Councilman Willem. If a knight had been lost, we would have tried to rescue him. The knight’s kin would have forced Willem to do something. But for a common soldier, or a criminal like you with no one to vouch for them…Willem saw you as a disposable chess piece. I couldn’t condone that, and Martin agreed.”

  “You don’t like Willem,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I’ve always believed in the knights of Forge, in the Council, in their mission. And to some degree, I still do. My father and brothers serve well in the road patrols. The citizens they guard are genuinely grateful for their protection. But in the city, things are less clear. Maybe there are just too many people. It gets too loud, with everyone shouting to be heard, and some people get drowned out.”

  “Do you think it has to be like that?” asked Kyra.

  “You mean, do I think things could change?” Tristam tipped his head up again and looked at the trees. “Malikel does things differently, and sometimes others follow his lead. But there are many in the Council who think like Willem.”

  “James thought he could change things,” said Kyra. She thought again of the fires. You can’t change a river’s course with a shovel. You need an earthquake, he’d said. Funny that the assassin, with all his talk of bringing the wallhuggers down, also saw fit to sacrifice the lives of his fellow citizens.

  Tristam glanced in the direction of the campfire. “Let’s hope, for all of our sakes, that James’s way is not the only way.” He pushed off from the tree and turned to face her. His eyes were solemn in the firelight. “I don’t regret disobeying the Council, and tomorrow brings what it will. But I want to apologize.”

  He was still able to surprise her. “Apologize? For what?”

  “For misjudging you at the beginning. For assuming the worst. I wonder, if we had met under different circumstances…”

  Kyra wished he’d stop talking as if they were preparing for their funerals. She forced a smile. “I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior either, but there’s no reason we can’t start anew.”

  He smiled. A genuine smile that took the exhaustion off his face. “I’m glad you think so.”