Erik shot her a wink. “I think you went easy on them this year. I haven’t seen this many new members since our Initiation Day.”
Narra crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. “I don’t go easy .”
Erik laughed, and slapped her on the back. The new members shifted uncomfortably. Some of their eyes widened, unable to believe anyone would dare touch her. “I suppose you don’t. The Boomers just got the jump on us.”
Two boys grinned and high-fived. Narra narrowed her gaze in their direction and their eyes grew wide. Heat built in her chest with startling intensity.
Was anyone taking Initiation Day seriously?
“You brought the Patrolmen and the fire brigade to Old Town in the middle of Initiation Day,” Narra snapped, advancing on the initiates. “This day is sacred, and should be treated with respect. Only the clever join the thieves, not the most despicable.”
Erik stilled, his lips pressing into a thin, white line. He didn’t agree, but he wouldn’t argue with her in front of recruits.
The Boomers stood at attention, their heels snapping together like military men. Only the Commander of the Boomers taught his initiates to act like Rovan military. Their wide eyes locked on her. They muttered quick apologies. Only one girl stared with defiance in her brown eyes, none of the respect Narra was owed on her bronze face. Narra’s jaw hardened and her fingers curled into fists.
“Do you have something to say, initiate?” Narra growled. She remembered this girl. They’d shared a quick drink in the Guild Saloon once. Narra had been surprised she wasn’t afraid like the other initiates.
“No, ma’am,” the girl said, her tone flat.
“Commander ,” Narra spat.
“No, Commander.”
“Maybe we should all head back to the Guild,” Erik interjected, stepping up beside Narra. His fingers brushed her elbow, letting her know she was going too far. Narra sucked in a breath and turned. She exhaled. A commander is always fair, Narra, her father always said.
Narra pushed down the heat in her chest, uncurled her fists and gazed at the stars. Their bright light sparkled, cascading the world in a soft glow. The smoke hadn’t reached the northern sky. Yet. She spun, facing the recruits.
“Well done, initiates,” she said, her tone back to business, “and welcome to the Guild.”
Grins lit their young faces. Warmth spread to their eyes, and they embraced one another, laughing and congratulating their teammates. A pang of envy stabbed her heart. She took a breath and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression smooth and emotionless.
Commanders aren’t jealous, Narra. Commanders inspire envy.
But she was jealous. Even if her father told her time and time again that she was better than the other thieves—more practiced, more patient, more skilled—she was still without a Guild family. As Commander of Negotiations, she wasn’t permitted to assemble her own faction. She had to remain impartial at all times. While her fellow commanders formed factions that became families that would stand the test of time, as they had for over two centuries, Narra would continue to have no one.
She sighed and her gaze slid from their happy faces. Erik caught her eyes, his eyebrows furrowed beneath shaggy bangs. She checked her expression, wiping the feeling from her face. She gave him a small, reassuring nod. She was fine—she was always fine.
“Everyone meet back at Guild headquarters to be briefed on the First Mission.” Erik flashed a small smile, memories of their own First Mission most likely running through his mind. “We’ll see you there.”
Erik congratulated them again, and they thanked him, grinning and shaking his hand. But they avoided her. They’d never touch her with such fondness or sincerity. She was cold, heartless—a villain even among thieves. Narra wielded her grappling hook and took off into the night.
T he trolley lurched from its stop in the warehouse district. Its wheels screeched against the slick street, wet with dew. Empire citizens huddled together inside the large metal cabin, wrapped in thick fleece coats and leather gloves. Their chatter drifted through the open window, along with a stream of heat from the coal box.
Narra stood by the railing on the small deck outside, her breath fogging the chill morning air. The sun lingered on the horizon, lifting lazily behind the clouded sky. Darkness peeked over the mountaintops in the north, telling of an impending storm.
“I suppose winter is on its way,” Erik said, crossing his arms and shuddering against the cold air. He tightened his black cloak around his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. His nose glowed bright red, but his lips were drained of color.
“It seems so,” Narra said, her tone flat. She leaned against the metal railing. Cold seeped through her cloak and she suppressed a shiver as best she could.
The trolley made a lazy turn; just slow enough for two working men to jump on back. Their heavy boots thudded against the mahogany and they brushed by without a word, slipping into the cabin through the rear door.
The dark warehouses and thick smell of fish from the waterfront receded as the trolley climbed the hill, sliding into the shopping district. Two-story shops rose on either side of the street, tall and tightly knit together, with no alleys between them. But as they continued away from the slums, the shops became more grand, wide smooth-stone buildings with lots of space carved out between them. Their owners meandered by to open for the day, most clad in fine fall coats, with large buttons and fur-trimmed hoods and sleeves.
The trolley screeched to a stop. Heels clattered down the front steps and onto the street. Boots followed. The cabin emptied before filling again. Two Patrolmen hitched a ride up front; chatting with the driver, while several businessmen and women clambered inside.
“A cold day for no coat.” A plump man with red cheeks, brown hair and gray eyes stepped onto the back. He made no move for the rear door.
“Wasn’t expecting the chill,” Erik said. He shifted warily and turned toward the man, his wide shoulders partially blocking her from view. Narra watched in her peripheral, her heartbeat thudding faster. Erik rarely made a move to protect her—he knew there wasn’t often a reason to.
“Where you headed this fine morning?”
Curiosity got the better of her. Narra glanced over her shoulder and a breeze swept her hood back. She met the man’s steely gaze.
“Naizer .” The man exhaled a hiss. His gray eyes turned stormy, and his face reddened further.
Emperor’s ancestors . Her heart sank into her gut.
“What is that scum doing here?” he snarled.
North of the Rovan Empire was Kiznaiver, a country of pale-skinned, pale-haired men and women—one the Rovan Empire was at constant war with. Naizer was the derogatory word for them.
Half Kiznaiver, half Rovan, Narra was hated by most empire born. It had never bothered her when she was young, though as she got older her orange hair caused many to stare, and some, like this man, to think he had a right to shame and shun her for the way she was born.
Erik grabbed him by the coat as the trolley continued up an incline. He jerked the man close, his face twisted in anger.
“Excuse me ?” he growled.
“Erik,” she warned.
“You’re defending that naizer whore!” the man gasped. Her gut twisted.
Narra stepped in, slapping away Erik’s hold. The man fell against the brass railing. She kneed him in the stomach and he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.
“Novin ,” she hissed. Worthless. This man didn’t deserve their breath. The trolley slowed and Narra kicked him from the car. He flopped off with a grunt and a thud. He’d barely gotten to his knees before they rounded a corner and his red face disappeared, replaced with brick and stone shop fronts.
“Bigot.” Erik glared in the direction they’d come from.
Narra glanced back at him. His eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. She quirked a questioning eyebrow. She had been the one insulted, why did he look more offended than she? Narra searched his
expression for answers, but found none.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Erik shook his head. “It’s hard to believe there are still people like that.”
“Discrimination lends them power over others… or so they believe.”
Erik fell silent as the shops disappeared and the trolley drifted into Varek Square, named after the third Rovan Emperor, Varek Kolarova, one of the most celebrated rulers of his time. Narra pulled her hood back over her foreign orange hair, tucking it tightly around her neck. Chatter rose on the wind, and the cabin occupants grew silent.
“Empire citizens, gather round!” a deep voice bellowed from the square center. Standing before a podium, a tall, thin Rovan man addressed the crowd. “The emperor has a new decree for all empire born.”
Narra exchanged a glance with Erik. His blue eyes lit with interest. She leapt from the moving trolley, her boots slapping down on the smooth stone street. Erik stepped off next, catching up with her in a few bounds.
This close to the Imperial Palace, a crowd of nearly a hundred citizens stood inside the circular square, allowing Narra and Erik to easily blend in.
They stuck to the back of the crowd, keeping their cloaks drawn close. Beneath the slick black fabric, Narra wore her usual equipment: a thick belt around her hips, straps around her thighs, with bronze clasps and a pocket on one side. Along her hips, her revolver sat loaded and ready on one side with her short sword on the other. Rows of daggers and throwing knives were fastened to her forearms, waist, and thighs, allowing easy access in a fight. If it weren’t for her cloak, she’d be found by Patrolmen and thrown in jail for carrying such deadly weapons. Only city officials and military were permitted to carry in public.
Varek Square was several blocks wide with a small stage at the back. A podium stood at the center front with several chairs on the right of the platform. On the left, tall beams rose, a single board across the top, and a stepping stool below four nooses. Narra’s heart clenched and she snapped her lips shut to restrain a gasp.
“Here in the emperor’s stead are his three daughters.” The slim man at the podium motioned to three women at his side. One quickly pushed ahead; raven hair, brown eyes, and perfect olive skin. Her wide hips swayed beneath her heavy fall gown and tight black coat. She took the man’s position at the podium, her gloved hands settling on the wooden structure.
“Imperial citizens,” she began, her voice rough unlike her strikingly beautiful appearance. “My father, Emperor Rova, has sent me in his stead. My name is Elena, and I have a message for you.”
Goosebumps rose on her forearms, but not from the cold. Elena’s black-lined eyes roamed the crowd as if she sought prey. What was this all about? Why would the emperor send his daughters for this spectacle?
“For too long, criminal activity has run rampant in Rova City. The emperor would call a stop to this.” Elena motioned to her right. Two Patrolmen led a group of four men and women with potato sacks over each of their heads out onto the stage. Narra’s gaze flicked back to the four nooses.
They were going to kill them in front of everyone.
Narra blanched, her eyes wide. She fought to calm the panic rising inside. She stood frozen, staring at the raven-haired Elena. The Patrolmen ushered the prisoners onto stools. Their whimpers were audible over the now silent crowd. Their breathing came quick, rustling the beige sacks over their heads. One of the blue-clad men hoisted a noose around each of their necks. The thick rope creaked as he tightened it. The prisoners’ hands shook at their hips, bound together with twine. The Patrolmen stepped back, one holding a long wooden lever attached to the stage.
“As of today, the emperor has enacted a new law. We are in a war against insurgents, and the emperor will purge this city of terrorists.” Elena tilted her chin to the crowd, as if asking them to defy her. “Anyone found conspiring against the empire, or its people, will be sentenced to death.”
The Patrolman pulled the lever. The floor swung free with a crack . None had the time to cry out as the nooses tightened against their throats. A loud snap, not like the breaking of a twig, but of a thick branch, startled gasps from the crowd. Somewhere a child cried as the four forms struggled. The wood of the stage groaned. They swung back and forth, knocking into one another, their chokes growing more frantic by the second.
Tears formed in Narra’s eyes. Twenty years ago, when she was just a little girl, her father had brought her to a public execution much like this one. When the snapping necks, purple faces devoid of oxygen, and sputtering gasps had been too much, she’d turned away. Only her father gripped the sides of her head, his fingers rough in her hair, and turned her face to watch the light leave their gazes. Their bulging eyes and gaping mouths were forever burned in her memory. He didn’t let go until the mad struggle against gravity and the rope ended, and their bodies went silent. Dead.
When each of the criminals had finally stilled, he leaned down beside her ear. His breath was hot on her cheek as he whispered, “This is what happens to thieves that get caught, Narra.”
A shudder ran through her and she held her arms to her chest. Her blood ran cold with memories. The faces of today’s victims were hidden from sight—there was no light to watch dim. So instead she faced their twitching feet until they stilled. Narra closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she exhaled, the white fog mingled with the damp air and disappeared.
“This is what happens to criminals in Rova City,” Elena continued. “My father and sisters will uphold this law, and keep you all safe. If you have any information about a crime, please do not hesitate to report it to your local Patrol Station.” Elena stepped back, joining her sisters, but Narra’s gaze didn’t leave the four hanging bodies until the Patrolmen cut them down. Their bodies fell with a heavy thud to the cobblestone.
The second of Rova’s daughters smirked at Elena. She was nearly identical, curly black hair and haunting brown eyes lined with coal. They could be twins. But the youngest stood several inches shorter than her tall sisters. Her chocolate brown hair waved over her loose fur jacket, complimenting her olive skin and hazel eyes. The third daughter’s brows furrowed, and she narrowed her gaze at her sadistic sisters.
Narra tilted her head. She’d never seen the youngest of Rova’s daughters before. Elena was the next in line for the crown, while Raeleen, the middle child, was Elena’s mirror image only with a wolfish smirk. But Marina, the youngest, was much more breathtaking. Even from across the crowd, Narra could make out her delicate features, plump lips, and heart-shaped jaw. Heat rose unexpectedly to her cheeks.
“We should get going,” Erik whispered.
Narra started, her gaze snapped away from Marina and met Erik’s. An excuse rose to her lips, but she quickly squashed it. What on earth was she thinking? Marina may be beautiful, but she was Rova’s daughter . They were a tyrannical family, and always would be.
“Right.” Narra nodded.
Erik led them from the crowd, taking the southern road out of the square. “Want to grab a drink before we head back to the Guild?”
Narra glanced up. Sweat coated Erik’s forehead, and his gaze darted around the street. His breathing was quick and visible in the chill air. It was early for ale, but the hangings had disturbed him as much as they had her. Narra agreed.
“Niece!” Narra’s uncle Alden bellowed from behind the bar.
The two thieves stepped from the cold into the warmth of the tavern, where a fire burned in the stone hearth and her uncle readied for the day’s work. He grinned, and stepped out from behind the long maple bar. He dropped the rag he used to clean glasses and joined her and Erik at the center of the room between two vacant tables.
“Alden!” Erik grinned, and they embraced each other. Her uncle laughed, and patted Erik on the back, rustling his daggers. “Good to see you.”
“Always a pleasure, my boy.” Alden’s blue eyes shifted to her, and he winked before hugging her as well. She could feel his warmth through her cloak, and welcomed it ag
ainst the cold withering her bones.
“How was Initiation Day?” Her uncle motioned them back to the bar, where he tossed his shoulder-length brown hair from his shoulders, pulling it back in a low bun. Alden looked just like her father, but younger and more handsome. While her father’s hair had turned silver with age, Alden, only a few years younger than her father, still retained his youthful brown locks.
“Good,” Erik said, stripping his cloak from his back. It came off with a snap, and he draped it across the back of a chair nearby. Narra did the same, adjusting the belt around her hips before she took a seat. “Thirteen new recruits. ”
Her uncle blanched, staring between them with wide eyes. “Thirteen ?”
“Yep!” Erik laughed. “I was just as surprised.”
“There hasn’t been that many new members since you both joined a decade ago.” Alden stared off in the distance at the wood paneled walls, absently cleaning a tall mug.
“I think she went easy on them.” Erik winked before sharing a conspiratory look with her uncle.
“You know that isn’t true.” Narra narrowed her eyes.
“Come on, niece. He’s just teasing!” Alden placed the mug on the long shelf that extended against the wall behind the bar before he continued. “What can I get you, Erik? Coffee? Whiskey? Something to warm up that cold soul of yours?”
Erik burst into laughter while Narra frowned at her best friend. She and Erik had been close with her uncle for years, but both of their drinking habits worried her.
“An ale for me, thanks,” Erik said.
“Ale, this early?” Alden grabbed an empty pitcher from below the smooth maple counter. “Have I made an alcoholic out of you, boy?”
“Not yet!”
Alden retreated into the kitchen through a swinging door next to the bar, laughing all the while. Once he was gone, Erik’s smile fell and he stared at his hands. She’d thought his sudden change in mood was strange. The disturbing hanging in Varek Square flashed before her eyes and she shook her head. Narra had no idea what to say or do to comfort her friend. She was much better at throwing novin scum from trolleys than discussing feelings.
Clockwork Thief Box Set Page 2
