Valera slipped through the back door of Myrtle’s, the only successful metal-smith in all of Olka. She had been staying under the care of Myrtle ever since her mother was killed when she was thirteen. Myrtle was a good friend of her parents, raising her as his own for the past six years. He had tried to get her in the metal working business as an apprentice, but eventually let her do her own thing when he found that she had more of an affinity for stealing than anything else. He didn’t necessarily condone her lifestyle, per say, but he definitely wasn’t complaining either. Being the only metal-smith in the city meant that he got business, sure, but he was still based in Olka, one of the poorest cities in Elspeth, so he’d take all the money he could get, shady or not.

  Myrtle’s scratchy voice called over the clang of steel: “Boots off, kid. You’re tracking in half the market.”

  Valera smirked, kicking off the snow as she unlacing her leather boots on the mat. “Relax, Myrt. The floor’s seen worse.” She padded in, her bare feet cold against the rough wood flooring, frost creeping up between the boards.

  A wave of dizziness hit her momentarily as she straightened up, the after-effects of her scuffle with the guard at the Spectacular and her dash through the city. She steadied herself against the wall, careful not to let Myrtle see. She’d gone too long without a proper meal again, but the adrenaline from her escape had kept her going until now.

  The sooty smell of coal and smoke filled her lungs, and Myrtle glanced up from striking a hammer down on a thin, wickedly sharp dagger. His eyes narrowed with that familiar look of concern he tried to hide whenever she returned from one of her “outings.”

  “Ah, there she is.” He wiped a hairy arm across the sweat and soot on his forehead, setting the hammer down for a moment. “Got anything worth not eating turnip stew tonight?”

  Valera pulled out the stolen goods, laying them one by one on his work bench like a game. Her bony fingers, blue-tinged at the tips from the cold, trembled. “Diamond brooch, silk purse—Edorilian noblewoman, no less—and for the crown jewel—”

  A loud knock sounded throughout the building, coming from the front door.

  Myrtle turned to glance out the front windows of the shop, swearing under his breath. “Shit. Val, go upstairs and hide that stash of yours.” His voice was gruff, but he caught the flash of protectiveness in his eyes as he added, “It’s the Moons.”

  Another knock, more impatient this time. “Be right there, officers! Shop’s open, but you’ll have to forgive me for not having the place cleaned up.”

  Valera’s blood ran cold as she quickly scooped up the items, tucking them in her cloak next to the still-hidden bevrodraach, nestled against her bony ribs.

  She had barely made it up the creaky stairs when she heard the shop door squeal open, and Myrtle’s voice carry up to the second floor.

  She could hardly make out any words that were said, besides “thief, bevrodraach, and search.”

  She heard Myrtle grunt out some kind of approval after the word search, and Valera ran to her room, turning the makeshift lock behind her. She quickly took the bevrodraach out of her cloak, and heavy boots began to clank up the stairs.

  “Curses,” she muttered under her breath, shakily prying up a floorboard under her bed. Then, taking the creature out from beside her chest, she placed it in the small hole, then hurriedly shoved the board back into place. “Don’t you dare make a noise.” She said in a low whisper, pressing her face to the board. “If they find you, it’s the end for both of us.”

  Myrtle’s voice drifted faintly up the stairs. “She’s harmless, lads. Barely a girl. You think she’s worth your time?”

  At that moment, a fist pounded at her door. “OPEN UP!”

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  Valera took her cloak off, and undid a few buttons at the top of her blouse, letting it fall open to reveal a shoulder. She paused at the small mirror on her wall, taking in her hollow face and the puckered scars that disfigured her right cheek. Her hair hung in limp waves to her waist, but her eyes still held that fierce confidence that had kept her alive all these years.

  Hopefully her act would distract them more than searching her room. After all, they were still men.

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and walked over to her door, wrenching open the lock. “Well?” She said purred, running a hand through her hair while leaning lazily on the door frame. Her scars burned with anxiety, but she kept her expression cool. “Did you knock, or was that just your way of flirting?” Though she had a horrifically scarred face, she was still nothing short of beautiful, and she would very well use that to her advantage if the situation suited her.

  Myrtle cringed behind the guards, but Valera didn’t look his way. Later, she’d apologize. Right now, she had to keep their eyes on her—not the floorboards.

  The black-eyed Moon at the front of the pack cleared his throat, obviously flustered. “Uh… miss… we’re conducting searches. There’s word of stolen—” she caught his eyes trailing down her bare shoulder and collarbone.

  “Oh, I’m well aware of your orders.” Valera chuckled, flicking her eyes up and down him, purposely slow. “But if you’re here to ransack my things, I’d appreciate a name first. It’s only polite.”

  The young guard shifted awkwardly. “It’s standard procedure—”

  “Standard? Mmm. Must be tiring, breaking into girls’ bedrooms all day.” She stepped aside to let them in, fighting a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her. The fight with the guard in the market, the chase through town, and now this—her body was reaching its limits, though her mind stayed sharp as ever. “Go ahead, search to your hearts’ content.”

  After a few moments of ransacking her room and tearing things off the walls, they stepped back, and the front moon turned to face her again.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, miss,” he gave a slight bow of his head, his eyes traveling over her once more. “We’ll be going now.”

  “Oh no we won’t be.” A sharp voice traveled up from the bottom of the stairs, and all turned as a massive Sun, a higher ranking member of the king’s guard, stomped up towards them.

  Valera felt her blood run cold. She had seen this Sun on duty this morning in the market, but it’s not like she had planned to steal the bevrodraach, it had just happened. Normally, guards dismissed petty theft if they saw it, but this was something entirely different. And if there was one Sun who always let her get off the hook, who knew that she was a thief and knew every little thing she’d ever taken, it was him, High Commander Gatlin Ward.

  “Myrtle.” He acknowledged, then turned to the Moons, who looked like frightened children in his presence. “All of you may leave, including you, Myrtle.” Myrtle rushed to protest, but the commander held a warning hand up. “I believe I have something to discuss with your… daughter.” When Myrtle didn’t move, he continued, “in private.”

  * * *

  Gatlin did up the lock on Valera’s bedroom door and took off his winter coat, embroidered with the royal insignia, two snakes crossed over a rising sun. He sat on her bed next to her, setting his head in his hands. “Val,” he sighed, “Why’d you do it? Other things I could dismiss, but this…”

  “You know why, Gatlin.” Valera buttoned her shirt back up, laying flat on her back. “You would’ve done the same if—”

  He whipped his head up, staring at her with his beautifully sad gray eyes, framed by a few stray blond waves. “If I didn’t choose this life, I know.” Gatlin’s eyes fluttered shut. “I regret the things I do almost every day, Val, but I never regret why I chose this job in the first place.”

  Valera groaned, tugging at the matted roots of her hair. “Don’t give me that, Lin. I never asked for your protection.”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” Galtin laid down next to Valera, turning his face so it was inches from hers. He took a piece of her hair in his hands, gently undoing the knots. “When your mother was killed, I couldn’t just stand by anymore.”

  She turned her head, yanking her hair away from him. “Why are you here, Lin?”

  “Well I can’t just let my best friend get executed, can I?” He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, blowing warm air on the back of her neck.

  Goosebumps rose down her arms. “Stop that,” she said, turning and slapping his shoulder. “Besides, you’re always rambling about how you’re so loyal to the guard. Shouldn’t you just turn me in?”

  “And completely disregard all the messy situations we used to get into together? I don’t think so, Val.” He sat up. “At this point, I should probably arrest myself.”

  Valera sat up as well, crossing her legs on the bed. “And what’s your brilliant plan, mister?”

  “Easy. We take the bevrodraach to the King.”