Page 36 of The Swindler’s Daughter

I wanted to continue to argue and insist that I was right, but unfortunately my brother had a point. What if we accused Reeve? How could it do any good to antagonize those who enforced the law? I didn’t have proof, and even if I did, who would we take it to? Who could we convince to go to the high magistrate?

And even if we could prove it, I wasn’t sure that Hunter would ever agree with what Rowan and the others were doing. That truth sat heavy on my heart. I didn’t want to be at odds with Hunter, but if I decided to go against Reeve, I would be. I didn’t want to go against the law. I wanted to be good for Hunter’s sake. I wanted to make him proud, and I wanted to repay him for all he’d done for me.

Hunter thought I didn’t know what had prompted him to wake me in the middle of the night when I was only ten years old. He’d told me we were leaving because Papa was in over his head and he was worried the two of us would get caught up in something dangerous.

It was strange and frightening leaving my father, but I’d done it. My love for Hunter was greater than my desperate need to gain Papa’s approval. Hunter’s claim that Papa was striking a deal that would go bad had stuck with me, tumbling around in my head on cold nights, mixing with the memory of how they had fought right before Papa had met with those men. In the months before we’d run away, Hunter and Papa had been arguing more and more, but the way they fought that night was different. Bigger. More dramatic. And as Hunter and I had labored to build a new life for ourselves, I’d continued to go over it all in my mind. Bits and pieces of Papa’s meeting tangled with the fight he had with Hunter and the worry I saw in Hunter’s eyes each time he looked over his shoulder. As the weeks and months had gone by, all the pieces of the puzzle had haltingly fit themselves together in my mind, and the truth of what my father intended to do burned away the remainder of my innocence.

He’d arranged to sell me. That was why he and Hunter had fought. That was the deal my brother could not abide.

Such things were not very common and they were certainly illegal. However, traveling performers were only the problem of the local lawmen for as long as they were in town. Festival rats never stayed in one place long, so few magistrates bothered to involve themselves in their goings-on.

Festival rats. It’s what outsiders called us when they wished to be unkind. It’s what we called ourselves so they wouldn’t know how much it hurt.

Even now, as I looked back on that first year away from Father, things hadn’t been so bad, at least not from my childish point of view. I couldn’t fathom how much Hunter must have hidden his struggles. He’d been destitute, left with nothing but a ten-year-old little sister to follow after him and complain when there wasn’t enough food. But he’d worked hard mucking stalls, allowing me to help when I could. He caught me picking pockets twice, and the disappointment in his eyes had convinced me that it wasn’t worth it. So I’d trained myself to hold my hands together tightly to help me resist the urge to dip into whatever coat or cloak I passed by. Eventually I’d found work as a scullery maid, but it was hard work, and that alone took its toll. But through it all, Hunter was there. I never had to wonder if he cared.

I hated that I was now keeping secrets from him. I was agreeing more and more with a band of young men who justified thievery. Hunter would see it as a betrayal. I knew he would.

I just didn’t know if he’d be right.

***

I went out to Rowan’s practice range, hoping he wouldn’t mind that I was using it without permission. I was so angry at the magistrate. But it wasn’t just anger. It was also sadness that I was at odds with my brother. It was frustration and fear and confusion.

I started shooting, aiming one arrow right after the other, anxious to exert energy and rid myself of at least a portion of all my complicated and convoluted emotions.

“I take it you were dismayed by what you found at market today?”

I had an arrow nocked and drawn back as Rowan asked his question from behind me, and I kept it there as I thought through my answer. Though my arm started to shake with the strain, I held it. There was no answer. I wanted there to be a clear answer. Right. Wrong. No in between.

Rowan’s gentle voice came from just behind me. “It’s time to let go, Miri.”

I released the arrow, my chest heaving as I breathed in and out, fighting the urge to cry or to scream. “Were you there?” I finally asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is he using children?” My voice shook with the inquiry, not sure I wanted the answer. “Is Reeve using kids?”

“From what I saw today—yes,” he said gently, like he knew it would hurt me.

I turned to face him, the edges of my face tensed in dismay. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I’m so angry!” Angry enough that I felt like crying with the admission.

“At me?” he asked, looking oddly vulnerable.

“Of course not! I’m mad at him—at Reeve. He’s using children. Children.” I’d been a thief as a festival rat—a girl under the control of her father, a tool to be used for gain, punished for underperforming, praised for bringing in extra coins or a pretty piece of jewelry. I knew what it was to be that child. But I couldn’t tell him that. I wasn’t ready, not yet. “I’m mad that nothing makes sense. This is my home, my safe place, and it feels like that serenity is being torn apart.”

“So…you’re not angry with me?”

I let out an annoyed sigh and started pacing. “I want to be. That’s what’s so maddening. I should be angry with you for what you’re doing, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid you might be right,” I cried out in dismay. That admission hurt.

He gave me a crooked almost-smile, like he was sad for me but happy for himself.

“But I can’t do anything about it,” I clarified before he could get his hopes up. I wanted to, but the idea of going back to what I’d been—taking what wasn’t mine, acting innocent so that no one would suspect me—it felt wrong, like slathering myself in mud when I’d worked so hard to be clean. He might not know my past. He might not understand my reasoning, but it wasn’t just about the thieving, it was about all that those skills represented. “If Sir James and Princess Marilee were here…” I began, desperate to find a solution I could live with. “Even Falstone…” I crossed my arms, hugging myself as I tried not to let my frustration take over. “We can’t even seek their counsel, much less their help. And even if we could get word to them, any correspondence would take weeks to get to Dalthia and then back to the capital. Plus, I’m almost certain that their absence is the reason Reeve is being so bold.”

His brow twitched like he maybe hadn’t thought of that.