Page 3 of Heart of Thieves

Next time I see Nic, I’m going to spit in his face.

Thanks to him, I’m climbing yet another building without magic because of the starsdamned Unbreakable Lie he forgot to warn me would ruin my life.

Tonight, Enzo and I are breaking into the University of Aethera’s Science and Technology building. Though it’s nowhere near as brutal as it was to scale the Liar’s Den Casino four months ago, the burn in my arms and legs has me muttering every single curse word I know under my breath as I hoist myself toward the eighth-floor windows.

For the dozenth time, I focus on the voratium bracelet on my wrist, hidden now inside my glove. I reach through it for Enzo’s magic, begging it to please, please work. But because Enzo’s here, climbing at my side, it refuses. Instead, a buzzing unfurls under my skin, and his magic slips through my grasp, untouchable.

“You all right over there, Llama?” Enzo asks, clearly catching on to the irritation surging in our shared heart.

“Spectacular,” I grit out.

He laughs.

I trust you. The Unbreakable Lie I told Enzo echoes in my ears, a taunt, a nightmare, a curse. Little did I know when I rolled that die and spoke those words that the magic I unleashed would trap me. Sure, it made him believe I trusted him, but it also has prevented me from doing anything that might jeopardize his belief in that. And since Enzo does not yet know I discovered my magic, the Unbreakable Lie bars me from wielding any in his presence, as that would undermine the deception.

Which means I’m stuck climbing this lousy building the old-fashioned way.

“Jade is brilliant,” Enzo says, admiring his black gloves before reaching farther up to grasp a ledge.

“She is,” I agree. Thank the gods for Jade, the Tentacle with a penchant for crafting useful gadgets enhanced with voratium for our thieving purposes. She gave us the gloves and shoes we’re wearing now, and they’re the most stylish black leather accessories I’ve ever seen— stitched with voratium fibers infused with starlight to make them extra adhesive to boot.

“You’re sure breathing hard,” Enzo teases.

I scowl. “I’m going to ask nicely one more time. Can I please have one of your strength rings?”

“We have to save them; you know this.”

“I would only use a tiny bit of power.” I point above us. “The lab is just three more floors up.”

“You can manage three more floors.”

Shooting him a dirty look, I shove past, throwing a rude gesture over my shoulder.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Enzo tsks.

“I still say we should be using the tattoos,” I mutter, reaching for another handhold. My sleeve rides up my arm, baring a sliver of the Tentacle tattoo in question. The voratium dust in the ink glitters in the moonlight.

Perhaps one of my favorite things I learned when I was finally admitted into Enzo’s band of thieves was that the tattoos aren’t just a mark of belonging—they’re a vessel. Much like Nic’s dice could be filled with the soullight of secrets, Enzo created these tattoos with voratium so they could be filled with the soullight of our corporeality. Which means all his Tentacles can go noncorporeal at will as long as there’s enough space in the tattoo.

Enzo chuckles. “You never know when everything is going to go to shit.”

“Well, I feel like shit now; doesn’t that count?” I stick out my tongue, but he’s right. Since the tattoo’s capacity for making us non-corporeal is limited to the tiny voratium flakes, we’re only meant to use it as a last resort.

“Boss?” Soren’s voice crackles across the radio clipped to Enzo’s belt. “What’s your status?”

“We’ve made it,” Enzo says as we finally hoist ourselves onto our target windowsill.

I cup my hands to peer through the pane. The laboratory is dark. The door to the main hall is closed and locked, as it should be.

“The explosives are set,” Jade adds, her higher-pitched voice fuzzy. “The first should detonate in twenty seconds.”

“I’ve got eyes on the guards,” Soren affirms.

Enzo and I squint to see the burly Tentacle crouched on the building opposite us, binoculars trained on the windows a few yards to our right.

“Perfect.” Enzo turns his attention to the courtyard below. “What about you, Arden?”

“Ready to go,” comes Arden’s cheery reply. Dressed in a constable’s uniform, he lounges on a stone bench under a tree, stretching his long legs so the pants ride up, flashing his bright orange socks. He gives us a lazy salute, and though he’s too far away to see clearly even with my glasses, I can almost make out his toothy grin.