Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  Narra stepped back. Dread welled in her stomach, competing with the cold slithering up her spine. What was going on? This wasn’t like the Marina she knew. The princess was innocent, sweet and caring. A moment ago she’d been afraid, hardly holding back her tears.

  “What? You have nothing to say?” Marina asked. Her normally bright eyes had darkened. “You’ve been so good to me, Narra. How good of you to share your true identity. I didn’t expect you to fall so easily.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Narra whispered. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “After I saw how angry my bruises made you, I knew I could control that rage to speed up my plans.” She smiled sadly, as if she pitied Narra .

  Narra took another step back. “What are you talking about, Marina?”

  “Those bruises Ezriel gave me weren’t from abuse, but from bedding me all over the palace. But I had no more need for him, or his sexual proclivities, and you took the bait.”

  Her heart sank into her gut and her eyes flew wide. No. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be true. She’d killed Ezriel, for her . Even if he had killed thirteen initiates, he’d deserved to die because of Marina’s lies, and now Narra had killed Asher’s son because of her.

  “You monster.” Her voice quivered.

  Marina sighed, stepping around the blood staining the floor. “I’m sorry for deceiving you, Narra.” She shook her head. “But it was a necessary risk. You’ve killed for me, twice now. That means something to me. After this is all over, and I’m crowned Empress, I want you to join me.” She closed the space between them, taking Narra’s hands in hers and squeezing them tightly. “I can protect you, and get your bounty removed. You could be my personal guard, or my right hand. This doesn’t have to be the end for us.”

  Eyes wide, Narra shook her head. Was she serious? Her mind raced. Marina had manipulated Narra into not only killing Asher’s son, but into killing the Emperor of Rova. All for what? For the Revolution? For the throne? Was there anything she wouldn’t do to stop her father?

  Narra’s fingers trembled. She couldn’t forgive this; she couldn’t be with someone like this, even if every inch of her screamed that she wanted Marina.

  Marina’s warm hands pulled away, sensing her hesitation. Her eyebrows descended low over her eyes and her lips curved into a frown. “I thought you understood me, Narra. This isn’t just for me. It’s for the empire. My father… my sisters… people like them are destroying our country. I can’t let it continue.”

  Narra stepped away. Where were her flames, where was her fire? Only cold numbed her heart and chest. Tears stung her eyes. She’d been fooled. She’d been used. She’d betrayed everything she held dear for this girl. And it was all for nothing .

  Marina sighed, her fingers slipping into the pockets of her dress. She pulled a folded sheet of parchment from one, brandishing it between two fingers. “Even if you won’t join me, Narra, I want to thank you for this. You did hand me my father’s crown after all.”

  Narra looked from Marina’s face to the piece of parchment. “What is that?”

  “It’s what my father so desperately sought, the last shred of evidence proving he isn’t the rightful heir to the Rovan throne. Can you believe he hid it in the back of his favorite painting?”

  Narra started, her eyes flying wide. “What?”

  “It was what he contracted Taron Mikyle to carry from West Port,” Marina explained. “Though he wasn’t happy that your uncle snatched it away and held it for ransom, he did get it in the end. It’s the only weapon I had against him, and the only proof that I’m not fit for the throne. But I care about this country far too much to let Rova descend to war over a damn birth certificate.” She scowled.

  “But if your father wasn’t the proper heir, who is?” Narra’s heart raced with possibilities.

  Marina smiled and stepped forward. Her fingers brushed Narra’s cheek before she put space between them, unfolding the piece of paper and turning it to face Narra.

  There, beneath all the official royal seals and doctors’ signatures were two names written on the bottom lines indicating who the father and mother of the baby were. On one line, Emperor Zaneth Kolarova’s name was written. On the other was that of his mistress.

  Narra started. “That’s impossible. Asher was the bastard.”

  Marina shook her head. “No, my grandfather just had trouble conceiving with his wife. When his mistress ended up pregnant, they claimed my father was the true heir. Only later did grandfather’s wife become pregnant, and his mistress demanded a son for the one she’d lost.”

  “So his mistress pretended Asher was hers, while his wife pretended Malek was her child,” Narra murmured as understanding blossomed inside her.

  “Yes.” Marina folded up the birth certificate and placed it back inside the pocket of her skirt.

  So this is what her father had died for. The score of a lifetime was a damn piece of paper. Now she understood why he’d gone to such great lengths. There was no price Malek wouldn’t have paid for that birth certificate with the royal seal.

  “Now that you know… are you sure you won’t join me?”

  Narra looked up into the hazel depths of Marina’s eyes. There was vulnerability in her gaze, but the bruises marring her cheeks only reminded Narra of what Marina had done. She’d lied to Narra, over and over again. She’d lied about being raped, about her father abusing her, and probably about a thousand other things.

  Disgust soured in her stomach, but she clenched down on the nausea.

  She could never forgive Marina.

  When Narra didn’t answer, Marina’s jaw hardened and her nostrils flared. “Fine.” The one word dripped with venom. “It’s clear you don’t see what I’m trying to do. You better get back to your Guild, Narra.” She smirked. “Before it’s too late.”

  The cold in her heart burst with the violent beating in her chest. No. “Marina… what did you do?”

  Marina only smiled as panic overcame all of Narra’s rational thoughts.

  Without another word, she spun for the exit and burst through the throne room doors. Not the Guild. Not her family. This couldn’t be happening. She’d trusted her heart—the one thing her father always urged against, the one thing she’d always tried not to do—and because she’d ignored all of her instincts, all of her teachings, she might have just lost everything. Narra swallowed hard, terror fueling her escape and lending her speed.

  She had to get back to the Guild.

  Her boots hit the roof across the street from her uncle’s bar with a loud thump . Narra gazed wildly around the street filled with Patrolmen. Her heart thundered and her palms sweat. The grappling hook thudded back into her fist.

  City steamwagons with cages in the back, instead of linen curtains, held her brethren. Thieves hollered and fought, elbowing, kicking, and screaming in the Patrolmens’ grasps. Her heart lurched painfully. No. What had she done?

  The officers pulled thief after thief through the doors of her uncle’s bar. Most were regular members, but August’s hair, white as snow, flashed in the darkness. He didn’t fight, didn’t grumble, only held his chin high as two men escorted him into the back of a steamwagon.

  Claudia and Klaus did not come so gently.

  Their shouts rose above all others. Like a wild cat, Claudia unleashed her fury, kicking, punching and scratching at three men who attempted to subdue her. She pulled free of their grasps and reached for her daggers. One of the Patrolmen whipped a bronze pistol from his belt and pointed it at the commander.

  Claudia froze, her eyes wide, her fingers inches from her weapons.

  Would she go out like this? In a blaze, instead of being hanged days from now?

  Claudia went limp, and the Patrolmen escorted her, and her twin to join August.

  Her fingers became fists, and she growled. This was all Marina’s fault.

  She paused.

  No. Marina might have manipulated her, but Narra had made the decision to help the pr
incess. This was all her fault. Narra had been the one to bring the princess to the Guild for protection, breaking the very laws that kept the Guild running for hundreds of years.

  Hot tears burned down her cheeks.

  She’d destroyed the one thing she’d loved with all of her heart—the Thieves Guild.

  Narra moved away from the edge of the roof and flung herself over the edge. Her fingers wrapped around the cold bars of the escape ladder. She went to the ground, trying to block the screams from her mind as she raced to another Guild entrance.

  A round iron manhole protruded from the cobblestone of the street a block over. She checked each end of the narrow road, but no one was in sight. Anyone awake at this hour would surely be watching the thieves being taken away. Her fingers wrapped around the cold metal and she pried it from the ground.

  She gritted her teeth, her shoulders aching as she lifted it, dragging it a foot and a half to give her enough space to slip inside.

  The stench of feces filled her nostrils as she descended into the blackness. She dropped onto the cement floor. Water splashed her boots. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her rag from her pocket and breathed into it.

  Copper assaulted her nostrils. Blood.

  The blood of the emperor. Though the Patrolmen stole her family from their home, they’d soon return to the palace when screams filled the night.

  Narra shook her head and trudged through the ankle deep water. The sewers led her deep into the earth until she reached a long stone passage. Torches lit the halls leading to the Den.

  No voices echoed inside. They must have gotten the rest of the members.

  Shaking water from her boots, Narra continued in, embers burning in her chest. The arched roof of the corridor brightened as she rounded a bend.

  The Den.

  She entered. Blood splashed the walls in thin lines, drops spraying the old walls. The two stone benches at the center of the room were caved in. Her heart seized. She leapt across the space and into the saloon.

  Most of the candles had gone out. The chandelier swung from the ceiling. The wooden bar at the back of the space was covered in broken glass, liquor, and empty bottles. The chairs of their meeting table had been torn apart, and her throne lay crumbled upon its platform .

  The inferno burning through her chest flared into her limbs. She collapsed onto her knees, a cry flying from her lips. Marina had done this to her. After all she’d done for that stupid girl, Marina had betrayed her, and the Guild, who’d needlessly protected her.

  How had she been so oblivious? So stupid?

  Narra screamed, clutching the dirt of the floor between her fingers.

  She’d been a fool. A complete and utter fool.

  Her father had been right all along. Never trust a pretty face. Beauty was a weapon, not a gift. She’d been cut deeper than she ever thought possible by the one woman she’d nearly given her heart to.

  Her father’s words echoed in her ears:

  Do not be fooled by that family .

  “I’m sorry, father,” she whispered. Tears burned down her cheeks.

  She’d failed her father, Alden and Erik, and the rest of the Guild—her only family. Marina had won. The Thieves Guild would be no more.

  Beauty was a weapon, and she’d let it destroy all she held dear.

  B lood splashed the worn wood panelling of the small whorehouse room. Narra held the coarse hair of a soldier, her fingers tightening as red poured down the front of his ruffled navy uniform. His hands reached for hers, desperately trying to pull from her grip and cling to life, but he’d already lost too much blood. She knew how to kill a man, and he was sentenced to death the moment she’d laid eyes on him and his partner.

  The soldier went limp as his life fled his bones, and Narra released her hold. His body thumped against the ratty carpet, limbs overlapping with his dead partner’s, and his eyes stared unseeing at the metal frame of the bed.

  Narra glanced between the two bodies, her adrenaline fading with the lives of her prey. Her heavy breathing slowed, and she loosened her rigid grip on the long dagger in her hand.

  Two days ago, she couldn’t have imagined killing a man so easily. Sure, she’d killed before. As a member of the notorious Thieves Guild, it was expected. But Narra only killed when those she cared for were threatened, or at least she had two days ago.

  How two days could change everything.

  Narra sighed and wiped the blood from her dagger on a rag from the back of her pants. Dark brown from the dried blood of the emperor already stained the rag. She froze, her fingers clenching the rough fabric.

  Marina had betrayed her. Even with forty-eight hours behind her, she still couldn’t believe it. She felt like a fool. She’d trusted the emperor’s daughter with the location of the Thieves Guild’s main base. She trusted Marina with her first name, with her title, and with her heart.

  It was the last time she’d ever do something so stupid.

  When she’d returned to the Guild to find her brethren being taken away, it took everything inside of her not to stay a cold statue on the saloon floor. She’d wanted so badly to just curl up and stay there forever. She’d lost everyone and everything she’d ever cared about. Erik was gone. Alden was missing. Marina had stolen her trust, and Asher hated her.

  What was left without any of them?

  The answer was simple. Nothing. But she wasn’t about to stay on that cold floor and weep like a child until Lady Death took her. No. Narra was going to get them back. Get them all back. Her Guild needed her, and she wouldn’t let them down again.

  Narra turned from her kills and returned her dagger to the belt at her hips. The light of a lone candle flickered with her movements, sending shadows dancing like demons over the walls.

  Blood pooled on the floor beneath the two bodies. It wouldn’t be long before someone came for them. Though she’d killed them without making hardly any sound, she’d heard them order a whore to share from the mistress below earlier in the night. Any minute, someone would come to their room, and Narra had one last thing to do before she left.

  Circling the bodies, Narra approached the nightstand with the candle. She fished a scrap of paper from the leather bag at her thigh, and grabbed ink and a quill from the drawer.

  The creak of the floorboards outside made her freeze.

  She waited, heart thundering in her ears. Someone giggled in the hallway, and the thump of a door closing sent her back into action .

  Narra wielded the quill and quickly wrote the same word she’d scrawled a dozen times now across the thin parchment.

  Thief .

  She’d branded each of her victims with the word. She wanted Marina to know. She wanted her to see Narra’s handy work and know that these lives may have been ended by Narra’s knife, but their blood was on Marina’s hands.

  Narra stepped away from the table, blew on the ink to dry it, and then plucked a thin throwing knife from a slot on her belt. She had far fewer knives these days, especially with a growing list of victims under her belt. But in her eyes, there was no other way.

  When she’d finally pulled herself together on the floor of the saloon, a plan quickly formed in her mind. There was one thing she wanted above all else. Her thieves. She wanted them back. She needed them back. Narra wouldn’t lose anyone else.

  But to get the Thieves back, she needed leverage against Marina. So she concocted a plan to create civil unrest. Someone was killing soldiers. Someone was angry with the crown. The papers hadn’t picked up her kills just yet, but it was only a matter of time, and with the recent death of the emperor, unrest would be easily stirred in the hearts of Rova’s people.

  Narra returned to the last soldier to meet the edge of her blade. She placed the paper on his back, and stuck her knife through it to keep it in place.

  She had staged the same scene many times now, and the movements were familiar as she carefully angled the knife away from her message, just in case any residual blood slid out. She couldn’t have her me
ssage obscured, or else this was all pointless.

  With the scene set, Narra stepped away and went to the window she’d entered from. It had been easy to jimmy the lock and slip in as the soldiers had begun to relax with their goblets of ale. If they hadn’t been inebriated already, they might have heard her daggers whisper through the air. At least one of them might have been able to put up a fight.

  Narra opened the shutters and glanced into the moonlight. The hour was late, getting closer and closer to sunrise. A few pedestrians still wandered the dark streets, but soon the city folk would emerge from their homes for the day. They’d open their shops, or proceed to the wharf, or whatever else they did for work.

  Slipping out onto the roof, Narra eased the shutters closed before removing her grappling hook from her belt. The cold metal was familiar in her hands, but the very sight of it conjured memories of flying over the rooftops with Erik not far behind.

  Her heart clenched painfully. She missed her best friend. Even though it had only been two days of separation, it was two days too many. Two days where she hadn’t seen his lop-sided grin, or his scruffy mound of hair. She missed patrolling the night with him, and sipping on foul ale in her uncle’s bar when the evening crowd had gone.

  Narra sighed, her breath fogging the cold night air. Winter was on the horizon. Soon, frost would cover the rooftops, and then snow. It’d be a far more difficult season to maneuver in, but she’d always liked the peacefulness of winter.

  Walking to the edge of the roof, Narra aimed her grappling hook at a steeple across the street. She hit the release, and with a rush of compressed air, the hook shot from her fist, and lodged in the thick clay shingles she’d aimed for.

  Tensing her muscles, she leapt, clenching her grappling hook with all of her strength as she flew through the air. Intense downward current pulled at her clothes until her cord snapped taut, and she hit the release once more. Her entire body lurched upward, and the wind stole her breath as she shot toward the steeple.

  Narra landed quietly on the edge of the roof, the three story building giving her a good view of Rova City’s Criminal District. To the east was Alden’s bar. To the south, her apartment. Neither place felt like home without her family. Every time she entered either, her stomach sank and a chill passed through her, leaving her with a feeling of cold like she’d never known before.