Scriv is chewing his lip, but I can see the excitement gleaming in his half-lidded eyes.
The others wait, caught in the tension between us. It’s a push and pull that shouldn’t exist. As the leader of the Javelins, my word on this should be final, yet they’re waiting for his approval before going along with the plan.
One of the barmaids approaches our table and begins refilling the cups. She’s a tall, stocky, large-chested woman with a mane of curly black hair. She keeps her head ducked subserviently as she pours. I stay quiet until she has stepped away to the next table, and then I continue.
“The Drosselmeyer collection will remain at Annordun until after the Midwinter’s Eve festival in Faerie. After that, the Seelie and Unseelie representatives will be going through it, deciding what to keep in storage and what to destroy. Which means we have a very limited window of time in which to do this.”
“And we know nothing else about the fortress? Whether it’s guarded by anyone or anything besides the spell that keeps all other Fae out?” asks Flex.
“No idea. Maven can dig around, possibly find us some more information. But we can’t wait long. Midwinter’s Eve is two days away, both here and in Faerie. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and we can’t allow it to slip past us.”
“Two days?” Scriv snorts. “We’ve never done a heist this big that fast.”
“There are some jobs you plan for meticulously, for months,” I reply. “And there are some where you have to jump in quickly, before someone else does, and be ready for anything. Look, we’ve pulled jobs of all kinds. We have the skills we need for this—plus we have the Fae-Hunters’ arsenal. We can take some of their traps with us. Maybe they’ll come in handy.”
“We were planning to sell those,” Boulder objects.
“Yes, but we’ll be investing them in a much bigger payoff. It’ll be worth it, trust me.”
“So I have two days to find information about Annordunanddo my research on everything we got from the Fae-Hunters?” Maven arches an eyebrow.
“Yes.” I wince apologetically. “I’ll make sure you’re well-supplied with coffee and cake. Coffee with lots of thick cream, and that spice cake with the pink frosted flowers from Gwindie’s. Your favorite.”
Before she can reply, a man in a big apron bustles up to our table. “Strawberry buns, with Erda’s compliments on your latest triumph,” he says jovially.
We all shift our mugs aside to make room for the steaming platter. Maven grabs a bun and sinks her teeth in. Her pretty face is sober, contemplative. Rather than pushing the matter, I let her process it like she needs to. With a stern look, I let the others know to keep silent as well. After all, we can’t succeed in this without her expertise.
Of course Maven will do it. If she has a soft spot for anything, it’s Fae lore and artifacts. She collects books about the Fae, their magic, and their world, though I’m not sure how accurate some of her source material is. The knowledge I’ve gained through her is the only reason I’m even considering this job. Her tales of the Fae and their ways have entertained the Javelins on many a long winter evening.
After she has eaten two of the buns, I say softly, “Drosselmeyer probably had a lot of books about Faerie. We may find some journals or grimoires you can add to your library.”
Maven’s whole face lights up, and I know the battle is won.
“Let’s finish up here, then head back to the Hearth for some rest,” I say. “We’ll plan and prepare for the next two days. Then on Midwinter’s Eve, we strike.”
Half an hour later, we leave the pub together and walk along the Lesser Canal. It’s little more than a smooth stream, about as far across as Boulder is tall, with a cobblestone path along one side. Winters are mild in Belgate, so the canal rarely freezes over.
At intervals, stone steps lead down to the water, and tiny skiffs are moored in coves here and there. Rows of brownstone dwellings with peaked windows rise on either side, with red winter roses blooming around their doorsteps or in their windowboxes. Nature and the city blend seamlessly here, with the bright orange-gold of lamps gilding the branches of the trees that arch over the canal.
Even in winter, it’s the prettiest of places.
I love this city, despite the unconscionable things I do within its streets. Belgate has been good to me over the years. At the same time, I recognize how cruel it has been to others. I know about the hessen dens, the dance parlors, the dice halls. I’ve dropped coins in the cups of ragged children and gaunt women. I’ve seen the missing fingers on the hands of those who owe money to the hessen lords—and they’re the lucky ones.
Surviving this city takes finesse. You have to know from whom you can safely steal. Much as I would like to rob some of the most powerful people in Belgate, just to teach them a lesson, I can’t risk it yet.
For now, the Javelins and I are an annoyance to the lower tiers of corruption in the city. I choose our jobs carefully, always ensuring that we’re not taking bread from the mouths of the less fortunate. It’s a difficult line to walk, remaining in the good graces of Belgate’s underworld while stealing from those who are part of that crooked system.
My crew seems increasingly annoyed with my moral code lately, which could be one reason why Scriv’s looser morals are appealing to them. Hopefully the daring elements of this heist inFaerie will remind my team that I can be bold, too, when the occasion calls for it.
Lost in my thoughts, I’ve let the others move farther ahead while I linger behind. That kind of natural separation seems to happen more and more lately. I’m growing weary of fighting it, of trying to keep up with them and insert myself in their conversations.
Tonight, I don’t even try. Instead, I pause to inhale the whispering fragrance of the winter roses and the fresh chill of the breeze.
There’s a sting of cold in the air that hints of impending snow—our first of the year. I wonder if it will snow while we’re in Faerie. That’s something to consider, how the walls of the fortress might turn slippery, making them harder to scale. I doubt we can use the Doras Àlainn to enter the building itself—there’s sure to be magic in place to prevent that—so we’ll need to arrive outside and make our way in.
The Javelins are getting too far ahead, so I continue walking. But as I move forward, I hear echoing steps behind me.
Every sense sharpens instantly and my body tenses. My fingers toy with the hilt of one of my knives. I’m a thief, not an assassin, but knowing how to incapacitate an enemy is an essential skill in my chosen career. I’m not afraid of a fight.
