Moonlight spilled inside, revealing a single object:a coffin.
Wiley chirped softly, a warning in his tone, but Tavia’s curiosity pulled her forward. She crept closer, inspecting the black coffin. A golden seal glinted faintly in the light, its runes etched with intricate precision.
She ran her fingers over the glowing runes. Whatever lay inside was worth a lot. Life crystals—perhaps the most precious gems in all of Saol—were embedded within the seal. If she could break it, the treasure would be hers.
Digging into her magic bag, she pulled out her lock-picking tool—a golden key that had cost her dearly. A year’s worth of jobs had paid for it, but it had never failed her.
She examined the key, its elegant craftsmanship gleaming in her hand, before pressing it into a circular indent on the coffin. The runes glowed brighter, and a faint vibration thrummed beneath her fingers.
The seal unlocked.
“What have you done?”
The voice startled her.
She spun around to find the third guard standing there, sword drawn, his face pale with terror.
Before she could answer, the coffin exploded.
The force knocked her back, and she shielded her face from the debris—a scream cut through the night—a bloodcurdling wail—followed by a strange hissing.
When Tavia looked up, a figure crouched over the fallen guard.
Silvery hair spilled across its back, and pointed ears peeked through the strands. The guard lay still, his lifeless eyes wide open.
The figure straightened, long hair catching in the moonlight, and turned just enough so that she could make out his face. Blood dripped from his lips, staining the tattered edges of his shirt.
“Vampyre,” Tavia whispered, raising her crossbow.
The vampyre smirked, his glowing red eyes locking onto her.
Before the monster could attack, she lunged, wind magic propelling her forward. She kicked the creature in the chest, slamming him to the ground. Her heel pressed into his throat as she aimed her crossbow at his head.
“Don’t move,” she commanded.
“I wouldn’t dare, darling” he replied smoothly, his voicelike velvet. “How about we talk—fae to fae?”
“You’re a vampyre,” she spat.
“Yes, that’s true. But I’m also fae—and a very wealthy one. Let’s make a deal.”
Tavia narrowed her eyes. “What could you possibly have that I’d want? I just saved you from a coffin.”
“Yes, and I’m very thankful for that,” he said, his grin widening. “Which is why you’re still alive. Now, how about moving that lovely boot of yours off my neck and putting away that cute little crossbow?”
Reluctantly, Tavia eased her foot off his throat, though she kept her crossbow trained on him.
He sat up, tilting his head toward the moonlight. Blood still splattered his face and shirt, but his presence exuded a strange, regal confidence.
“Now, my pretty dove,” he said, his red eyes dimming to a deep emerald, green, “let’s make a bargain.”
Since leaving home, Tavia had made her share of foolish decisions, but this might be the riskiest one yet.
The icy wind nipped at her, reminding her what was at stake, and the blood drop hanging from his bottom lip should have warned her away.
But she was desperate, and if there was one thing she had learned from the past two years, it was that a desperate thief was a dead one.
Tavia had no other options.
