CHAPTER ONE
Cold seeped into her fingers as she followed her target into the shadowy confines of the surrounding woods.
The carriage rumbled off the main road, its wheels crunching over frost-covered ground as it veered deeper into the dark, days from the nearest village
This far away from any other prospects, she had to make sure this score hit big.
Winter was coming, and she needed enough coin to find somewhere to stay until her next heist.
A few more jobs, and she might make enough to finally return home.
Using the cover of night, she floated over to a nearbytree, Wiley gliding through the sky next to her. Her father’s elemental wind ability had been a fortunate inheritance. She didn’t need a horse or carriage to get around—her heels floated on the wind in a silent dance.
They landed on a sturdy branch, Wiley scampering onto her shoulder. The flying squirrel had been her companion for the past month, and she had to admit, the companionship had grown on her. He held an intelligence far beyond that of an average squirrel, and he seemed to enjoy stealing as much as she did.
Settling on the branch, Tavia pulled her cloak tighter against the biting chill of the night breeze.
This was her last heist, and it had to be flawless.
After winter, she’d return home and convince her parents to leave their tiny, broken-down cottage. They could move to the village, be around other fae, and stop living like hermits.
She handed Wiley a nut from her pocket while chewing on a piece of jerky, her gaze fixed on the guards below. The driver had one guard with him, but Tavia suspected there was another inside the carriage. If the driver couldn’t fight, she’d only have to deal with two men.
Easy.
Using the shadows for cover, she nestled into the leaves, thankful that not all of them had fallen yet. She watched the guards make camp, waiting for the right moment. They parked the carriage and started a fire, their voices too faint to carry. Not that their words mattered.
Though they appeared like ordinary travelers passing through, their finely made weapons suggested otherwise. Maybe mercenaries. Whatever they were, they were no match for her.
Tavia checked her weapons: darts for the hand crossbow strapped to her wrist, throwing knives, a dagger, and a second crossbow. Killing wasn’t her style, so she pulled out her signature trick.
She retrieved a small jar of paralyzing balm from the black magic bag on her belt. One by one, she dipped her bolts into the substance. It would immobilize her opponents for hours.
She’d be long gone by then.
A cool breeze carried a reminder of how close winter was.
This heist carried more risk than her usual pick-pocketing ventures in nearby villages, but shecouldn’t dwell on that now. After two days of tracking this carriage, she wasn’t about to let fear stop her.
She waited, hours slipping by.
When two of the guards fell asleep, leaving the third to stand watch, Tavia descended silently from the tree. The wind cushioned her every step, making her as silent as the breeze itself. Cloaked in shadows, she moved with precision.
She aimed and fired.
Thump.
The first dart struck its target.
Thump.
The second guard collapsed.
She scanned the area, searching for the third guard, her gut tightening. He couldn’t have gone far, but she couldn’t hear or see him.
Was he as silent as she?
Not willing to waste the moment, Tavia darted toward the carriage. A wooden plank secured the back door. She lifted it carefully and pushed the door open, its creak slicing through the still night.
