Page 12 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“And that makes my life charmed?”

“If you’d ever been on the other side of things, you’d know the answer to that. Some people have no one.”

He was right, of course—not about me and my charmed life; that idea was laughable. But I knew how lucky I was to have Hunter. It was why I respected my brother so much. It was why I wanted to make him proud. Still, having Rowan lecture me about having a hard life was not something I could countenance. I narrowed my eyes at him. “And you know what that’s like?” I sneered. “You, who still have a father and a mother?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Please, tell me how you know so much about being utterly alone.”

A shadow crossed his face, but it was gone before I could figure out what it meant. “You’re right. I don’t,” he admitted. “But I see those who are. And I’m trying to help them.”

“By being a thief?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said, defiant.

“That makes no sense.” I turned away from him, knowing our argument would go nowhere. I nocked an arrow and pulled back. “How’s my form?” I asked.

“Miriam—” he started to protest.

I cut him off. “I came here to learn archery. That’s all. Teach me that.”

“The magistrate is corrupt.”

I scoffed, focusing on my aim. “Everyone in power is corrupt.”

“Does everyone have a group of constables who go around stealing from the vendors at market?”

I froze for so long that my arm started to shake with the strain of keeping my arrow pulled back. Finally I released it but didn’t wait to see if it hit the mark. Instead I turned back to Rowan. “What?”

“The lawmen are stealing from the villagers.” His words were slow and deliberate.

I didn’t respond. I hadn’t heard of such things happening.

He took a step toward me. “Should we just accept our lot in life when our own magistrate and his constables start showing up at people’s homes, demanding payment of taxes that have already been paid?”

I blinked. “That can’t be true,” I insisted. Surely I would have heard if things like that were happening.

“It is true,” he affirmed, his voice perfectly level.

“Well then, why isn’t someone doing something about it?”

“I am!”

I scoffed. “I’m not talking about thieving little boys.”

He glared at the description.

“I’m talking about someone writing to the duke or going to the capital to speak with the high magistrate. Why isn’t someone doing that?”

He looked at me like I was daft. “What commoner do you know who would be able to do that? What commoner would have the time, means, and ability to carry out such a lofty task?”

All right, he may have had a point. But still… “What about the butler or housekeeper who work at Bridgefield?” I demanded. “They work for the duke! Surely they could get word to him.”

“Good luck convincing them. And in the meantime, I’ll do what I can.” He gave an arrogant shrug.

“And what if those you help end up being blamed for your crimes?” I challenged. “What then?”

He started to speak, but words seemed to fail him.

I raised my brows, waiting for him to come up with an answer, but none came. “That’s what I thought. Actions have consequences, Rowan. I suggest you think them all the way through before you go flaunting the law.”

He took a step forward. “And what happens if I do nothing? What happens if no one stands up?” He paused, but I couldn’t come up with an answer, so he just nodded. “Inaction has consequences as well.”