My voice caught as my memories swirled. I dropped my gaze to the stream and dragged it back to Shaianna. She rested her chin on her knee, patient and serene.
“You remind me of that dream,” I told her, already wishing I hadn’t, but it was said and done and what difference did any of this make? If all went well, she would soon be another memory among all the others.
“What stopped these dreams?”
“I mentioned it to my mother. She told me it was foolish to fear something I could not stop and that I should find a way to master it—to use it.”
“She sounds wise.”
“She was.”
“Did you master your dream, thief?”
“No. But eventually, it stopped coming, and I forgot about falling and my silent watcher.” I couldn’t help but smile at her. Seated beside the stream as she was, she could have been a normal young woman, if not for the teardrop gem glittering in her cheek. “Then I got older and had my eye on joining the guards, and I had no room for boyhood fears.”
“You were a city guard?”
She seemed surprised and I couldn’t blame her. A degenerate like me couldn’t be a city guard, right? “No. Those dreams never quite came to fruition.” I picked up a small stone and tossed it into the stream. “What do you dream of, princess?”
“Fire and bone, ashes and stone.” She sighed. “Though I do not fear my dreams.”
“How do they make you feel?”
“Hungry.”
Fire and bone, ashes and stone. Of course her dreams were most peoples nightmares. She wasn’t most people. “I don’t suppose you could dream of sunshine and rainbows? No, not you, Shaianna.”
Her eyes shone with what almost looked like brittle innocence. “Is there something wrong with me?”
I might have laughed out loud if the look on her face wasn’t deadly serious. “I think there’s everything wrong with you.” I regretted the words as soon as her eyes softened and she looked away, but I wouldn’t take them back. “But what is the opinion of a thief worth to someone like you?”
She didn’t reply, and judging by her expression, her thoughts were miles away, probably on a future without me in it.
I shuffled down against the rocks, tucked my chin into my chest, and pulled my coat tighter still, angling my crossed arms so my hand rested over the dagger—just in case she got any ideas. “Sweet dreams, princess.”
“And to you, Curtis Vance.”
Calwyton attracted hunters, highwaymen, drifters, and those who’d found the Brean city guards unfriendly. The rest of the townsfolk, those who stayed all year round, were mostly farmers from the flatter west lands. Calwyton happened to be midway between Brea and Kalbridge, situated at the mouth of the Draynes, and the last settlement before the Thorns, making it a useful waypoint for travelers. New faces were normal. Shaianna and I were largely ignored, partly because the little gray town appeared midway through a festival.
Straw scarecrows hung about the houses and stores, propped up at jaunty angles in what I assumed was a curious local tradition. Rather than welcoming, I found their button eyes and bailer-twine mouths unsettling.
Shaianna had sprouted a smile at the sound of music and the sight of brightly colored banners hanging from the bridge into town. After elbowing our way through the crowds choking the narrow cobbled streets, I sent her off to admire the revelry while I continued sinking my hand into the pockets of those with gilded coats and polished boots. They wouldn’t miss a few gems, and I figured I deserved some real food.
An early evening chill had settled over the street, but that didn’t stop the ruddy-cheeked locals from spilling out of their townhouses. They’d started the celebration early in the day and showed no signs of stopping. Fire-eaters, stilt-walkers, burning barrels—the carnival atmosphere was difficult to ignore.
I hired a room for the night with the gems I had pocketed—one of the few rooms left at the local inn—washed off the moorland dirt, returned to the revelry, bought two tankards of warm barley malt drink, and took them outside to ward off the cold while I looked for Shaianna.
A fiddler played a merry tune on the fringes of the nearby plaza. Dancers twirled and ankle bells jangled. Above the crowd, a vast straw dragon-puppet danced on sticks. Crowds packed the streets from one side of the street to the other. I hadn’t realized this many people lived so far outside Brea.
I eventually found Shaianna dancing with others, her arm interlocked with a young man’s, and smiling so broadly she could have been an entirely different person. The teardrop gem had vanished. If it wasn’t for her leather wrappings, I might have overlooked her. Those in the crowd didn’t look twice, not even to notice her exotic dark leathers. Nobody here cared or noticed that she was a little different.
“She’s a pretty one.”
The man who had spoken was leaning against a stone half wall ringing a small cottage yard. A wide-brimmed hat hid much of his face, revealing only his shadowed chin. His waxed riding cloak had been rubbed raw in places, suggesting he was a seasoned traveler. He nodded toward Shaianna. “Has an air of joy about her,” he added. “Don’t you think?”
He wouldn’t be saying that if he’d seen her wrap her hands around a man’s throat or plunge her dagger into the gullet of another. “That she does.”
Some of Shaianna’s dark hair had slipped its ties and clung to her flushed cheeks. The rest of the flowing locks fanned whenever she spun in time with the music. Her partner twirled her, and then she switched to another dancer—a woman—and on she went. The music plucked and slid from the fiddle, and hollow drums kept up a breathless beat. Country music, fast and loose. We seldom heard the likes of it in Brea.
“What is the celebration in aid of?” I asked. Shaianna wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon and clearly had no concern for my whereabouts. I might as well root around for information while I could.
The man pushed his hat back with his thumb, revealing a long, strong face tanned from days working under the sun, making him from lands much hotter than those in Ellenglaze.
“You’re Brean,” he drawled. “I’m guessin’, from the accent. That explains your ignorance. City folks don’t much like Calwyton folks. No offense.”
“Some taken.”
“I’m not Calwyton or Brean.” His smile tucked into his bearded cheek. “But I know this land and its people well enough. This is Harvestsfall. Dates back to when miners outnumbered farmers five to one, when gems were pulled from the ground by the wagonload, and when the moors were truly wild. Every year, the valley people and the moor people meet and pay their respects to the restless gods.” He eyed my surplus tankard. I offered it over—Shaianna wouldn’t be back anytime soon and some local knowledge could be useful. He took the drink, guzzled some gulps, and nodded his thanks. “I don’t think anyone here cares if it’s meant to ward off evil spirits or usher in a mild winter,” he said, using his tankard to gesture at the crowds. “They just like to drink mead, fill their bellies, and enjoy themselves. We must take small pleasures where we find them, traveler.”
“Vance.” I offered my hand.
His grip was firm, his hands calloused from hard labor. “Darius Tassen.”
The fiddler paused. The dancers cheered. And off they went again, the pace relentless. I caught sight of Shaianna here and there.
“I didn’t know miners worked the lands this far east?”
“Not in many generations. Most all our gems come from the Beveston mines by the coast. Do they not teach anything in Brea?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time trying to forget what they taught me in Brea.”
His eyebrows rose. “Where are you and the laughing woman heading?”
He lifted his drink to his lips, hoping to conceal the obviousness of the question.
I smiled and sipped my malt. I wasn’t about to tell a stranger our route so he could rob us later.
He noted my grin and my silence, and tipped his cup in acknowledgement. “Wise,” he said.
; Still, his mention of the laughing woman instantly grabbed hold of the one memory I couldn’t shake.
“Just here on business,” I said, admiring Shaianna twirl and laugh as though the restless gods so many believed in had plucked out the old Shaianna and replaced her with this joy-filled lady.
“If that’s business, I’ve been doing it wrong.”
Shaianna’s green eyes locked on mine too quickly for me to look away. She bowed to her partner and nudged through the crowd toward us. A glint of joy, or perhaps mischief, sparkled in her eye. She came at me with the same unwavering attention as those she’d stabbed in the gut. The only difference was her smile. She stopped in front of me, lips parted and about to speak—probably to demand something of me—but then she spotted Tassen admiring her. She cocked her head and read the man in that blatant glare she had perfected.
“Good evening, milady.” Tassen touched the rim of his hat. His smile slid sideways into the kind of dastardly grin I may have used myself once or twice. “The music speaks to you.”
I was expecting a harsh retort from her, but she smiled shyly and lifted her hand to me. “Come, thief—”
Shyness from Shaianna? What trick was this? I took her hand, abandoned my drink on the cottage wall, and tugged her away from Tassen into the crowd. She dug her heels in and pulled back, stopping me in the middle of the street.
“Why must you persist in calling me a thief in public?” I grumbled in a low voice. “You’ll get me hanged.”
A flicker of irritation sharpened her glare. “That man cares not for what you are.” She lifted her voice so I could hear her above the chattering crowds and music. “By his stance and stature, he too is of questionable occupation.” Her hand twisted in mine, reversing the grip on me. She pulled me toward the dancing. “Come.”
Now I dug my heels in. “If he too is questionable, then that is all the more reason to keep quiet. We should keep our heads down, retrieve the supplies we need, and rest up for the journey to Arach tomorrow.”
She whirled to face me. Mischief was back in her fluttering dark lashes and twitching smile.
I looked again at the path she had been about to drag me along and pulled my hand from hers. “Don’t think for one minute you’ll get me dancing. I have work to do.”
She dipped her chin and peered at me, eyes sultry. “Is my company so abhorrent?”
I barked a laugh. I wouldn’t even attempt playing this game with her. She changed like the ocean, one moment benign and calm, the next a raging storm. I couldn’t keep up and decided right then to give up trying. I was a professional, and this was a job. Dancing with a sorceress would not get me closer to the Dragon’s Eye.
“I booked us a room at the Half Crown Inn. Have your fun, princess. Be ready to leave at first light.”
She rippled her fingers in a teasing wave, stepped toward the dancers, curtsied in her leathers, and then strode off, light on her feet as though she belonged. The music had changed to a playful jig. Local voices rose, adding a chantey twang and Shaianna disappeared among the merriment.
I left her there and headed back to the inn, but got turned around in the crowd. A line of locals shambled by, holding aloft their straw dragon with coal-black eyes and foil-wrapped teeth. Cart horses bedecked with jewels stood on display. Children dressed in long, colorful frocks and waistcoats played. Brea didn’t celebrate like this. There wasn’t much to celebrate inside the city walls.
I couldn’t have been the only one feeling the buzz of excitement in the air that night. Now that I’d accepted that magic was real, perhaps there was more to the celebration than an excuse to drink and be merry.
My sister would have adored this …
Turning away from the revelry, I found my way back to the inn, keeping an eye out for Tassen’s distinctive hat among the crowd. He’d been watching her before my arrival. That could mean something, or maybe I was being overly cautious. It was probably nothing, but Shaianna attracted trouble the same way she courted magic.
The inn’s food went a long way in chasing away the emptiness the moorland trek had left me with. The mead warmed by veins, and a brief lukewarm bath finally made me feel halfway back to being Curtis Vance again, and not the sorceress’s plaything.
While the townsfolk celebrated below my room’s window, I sat on the edge of the bed and wiped down Shaianna’s bejeweled dagger. Rarely did I see such perfection in a blade. No nicks, no cracks. It could have been forged yesterday. The edge had been hardened to capture a ripple in the steel. A warm, orange glow from the outdoor gaslights filtered into the room through the window. The gems scattered along the hilt and blade played with the light like those gems scattered down Shaianna’s body had.
I tilted the blade toward the light. Part of me, the same part that wished I had never met her, wished I hadn’t seen her in the water. It would have been so much easier that way. I would be back in my loft, thieving for the rich and spending my rewards as I deserved. Daryn may still be alive. I would be ignorant of magic, and all would be right with the world. Ignorance had cushioned me from the ugly truth of my past for so long. What difference would a few more years make?
But I had met Shaianna and I had seen her in the water, and that perpetual memory of the sunlight and water pouring over her stalked me.
A few sharp knocks rapped on the door. I hid the dagger against my back and opened the door to find Tassen and Shaianna propping each other up.
“I’m afraid we lost track of time,” Tassen slurred. He prized Shaianna’s hand from his arm and gave her a helpful shove toward me. I stepped aside and watched Shaianna sashay into the room. Halfway in, she lifted her hands toward the ceiling and began humming a merry tune.
Tassen removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s special, that one. Take care of her.”
I crossed my arms, not hiding the dagger in my grip. “You should leave.”
“Yes. I should.” He bowed his head and put the hat back on, pulling its rim down to half cover his eyes. “G’night, thief.”
Thief. Wonderful. Had she told him we were searching for the priceless Dragon’s Eye too? I clicked the door closed and turned to find Shaianna dancing to her own internal tune.
“He smells like the sea,” she singsonged. Her black leather waistcoat hung askew, revealing a narrow glimpse of her middle. Her long hair licked low down her back and rippled as she swayed her hips. “These people are bright and free,” she added softly. “So much joy in their dark, little lives.”
“Mm …” I yanked the blanket from the bed and set it down on the floor across the room. “Take the bed. Lie down before you fall down, princess.”
She didn’t appear to hear me. Standing inside the puddle of orange gaslight, she lifted her hand to eyelevel and turned it back and forth, rippling her fingers as though her own hand fascinated her.
“I am hunger and vengeance,” she said. “But there is more to me than these things. There is more to them, and more to you than your past. I find I am thinking of bright things and future things, and what it means to have a choice.” She lifted her head and looked right at me. “Do you understand, thief?”
I was wrong about her being an angry drunk. She was a crazy drunk. I should have guessed as much.
“I understand you’ve partaken in too much merry drinking.”
“It’s marvelous.” Her attention wandered back to how the light played over her hand. “So fragile and beautiful. And deadly.”
I stole the pillow from the bed, tossed it onto the blanket, and frowned at my temporary bed. I wouldn’t be getting much sleep. “Deadly, yes,” I mumbled.
“There is much potential in each of them.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ll regret this in the morning.”
“Nothing like my potential, of course … but still, there is something to their inconsequential lives. A spark in the night.”
“Do you hear yourself, princess?”
“Of course.” She blinked at me and smiled as tho
ugh she’d just realized I was there. She strode forward with her usual unwavering purpose, and I froze, caught between wanting to back away from her and not wanting to let her win. She stopped—too close—and lifted her hand to touch my face. I caught her wrist before she could get there.
“You are guarded,” she said.
“I’d be a fool if I wasn’t.”
Her gaze darted about my face, scrutinizing my expression and probably seeing right through my efforts to conceal my thoughts. I loosened my grip on her arm but didn’t release her. I should have, but I didn’t want to let her go. If anything, I had to fight the urge to slip my hand around her waist and pull her closer still. What did magic taste like?
“I know you observed me in the water.” Her eyes glittered like the jewels in her daggers.
I swallowed and released her wrist.
“I took pleasure in your admiration.” She spoke slowly and quietly. Her lips and her tongue would be soft—I crushed that thought before it ran away with the rest of them.
“It is odd for a man to desire me? I wonder about such things, redundant as they are.”
My pulse raced and need throbbed way down low. I could kiss her—slip my hand in her hair and taste her—but it wouldn’t stop there. I lifted my hand, and she watched warily as I pressed my fingers to her cheek and brushed over where I knew the teardrop hid. At my touch, her glamor fell away like water so I could both feel and see the little gem beneath my fingertips. Her soft lips parted. She lifted her chin.
All men have weaknesses. She would have found yours the moment you met.
I stepped back, dropped my hand, and cleared my throat. “Sleep it off, princess. I’ll be back in the morning.”
I scooped up my coat and left the room, keeping my gaze straight ahead. If I looked back, I might go back, and that way was a fool’s trap.
Chapter Ten
Nightmares—horrid storms made of flames and screams—jolted me awake. Through my sleep-addled haze, I knew two things: It was still dark, and the woman sleeping beside me wasn’t Shaianna. That last thought brought with it a sudden gut-sinking sensation of regret.
The Heartstone Thief (Dragon Eye Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
