This thieving life was supposed to be temporary—a means to an end, a way to free her parents from their struggles.
Tavia looked at the dress Lucius had given her, then walked over to the dresser. The bed was too covered in dust, so she cleaned off the dresser’s surface with her arm and laid the dress on it.
A floor-length mirror stood in the corner. She wiped away the grime with her cloak and tossed it onto the floor. Gazing at her reflection, she ran her fingers through her teal shoulder-length hair. It had been years since she'd worn a dress.
Her mother had sewn a few for her once—nothing fancy—but she used to run through the garden in them. Dirt and grass stains never seemed to bother her mother, who would simply smile and take the soiled dresses down to the stream to wash.
Slowly, Tavia began removing her weapons, placing them one by one on the dresser. Next came her boots, shirt, and pants until she stood in just her undergarments. She picked up the gown and admired it.
It was a full-length dress made of soft cotton, with long sleeves and a sweeping neckline laced in white. Tiny, embroidered flowers in a fuchsia thread adorned the fabric, blending seamlessly into the turquoise. The front of the dress featured a tie, allowing it to be tightened to fit her form.
Sliding into the gown, she slipped on the sleeves, then tightened the laces. Watching her waist cinch in the mirror, she smiled faintly.
The fabric brought out the teal undertones in her hair and made her eyes appear more green than blue.
She stepped into the closet, scanning the array of shoes. Among the selection, she found a pair of brown boots with delicate floral embroidery that complemented the dress. After finding socks, she laced up the boots and added a white fur shawl to her ensemble.
A sudden scratching at the door made her pause.
She froze, listening.
The scratching came again. Moving cautiously, she checked the light under the door but saw nothing. Tapping three times, she waited.
Four taps came in response.
Opening the door, she smiled as Wiley scampered in and leaped onto the dusty bed.
She pulled the shawl around her shoulders and looked at the squirrel. “Well, what do you think?”
Wiley chirped, tilting his head as if assessing her.
“I know,” she sighed. “I don’t know where I’m going to put my weapons.”
She couldn’t go downstairs unarmed. Running her hands over the dress, she was relieved to find pockets. While her crossbow was out of the question, she could at least carry a few throwing daggers and her golden lock pick. Grabbing two daggers from the dresser, she slid one into each pocket.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “What am I even doing?”
But what choice did she have?
It would take days to return to the village she’d left and even longer to find another target. Besides, she was starving.
“I’ll tell you what, Wiley,” she said, holding out her hand. The squirrel scampered up her arm and perched on her shoulder. “We’ll eat first, then figure out what to do next.”
As she approached the door, she paused, gripping the knob tightly. This was a vampyre she was dealing with—how could she trust him?
She’d have to be more careful than ever. This wasn’t just a partner in crime. This was a dangerous monster; if she faltered for even a moment, it couldcost her life.
He couldn’t be serious—marriage?
Tavia descended the staircase, her steps slow and deliberate. Just before reaching the bottom, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. A chill ran through her—a sensation she associated with being watched.
She paused, turning to glance behind her, but the space was empty. Shadows clung to the corners of the dim stairwell.
Taking another cautious step, she searched the darkness.
“My, my, don’t you clean up nicely.”
Lucius’s voice drifted from somewhere unseen, smooth, and teasing.
