Page 44 of Heart of Thieves

Meet me a t the down town public sq uare a t sunse t tomorrow night. I promise, you won’t wan t to miss the chance to compete for the prize of one magical favor. You won’t even need to barga in a secret.

Yours,

Noc turne

Laurel’s magic seizes my eyes and makes me read the invitation again, and a stone sinks in my gut. If Lola draws Laurel’s attention as Nocturne, there’s only so much I can do to keep them apart.

I mentally groan as I fold the parchment and tuck it into my jacket.

Laurel will want to discuss this. She’ll want to make a plan. And I’ll have to pretend I’m as enlivened by the idea of chasing down Nocturne as she is.

I’m not ready to go back to the apartment. At least not yet. I need to figure out what to do.

I cast my eyes down the street. A small stone church lurks on the corner, its steeple casting a long shadow down the road. I shuffle toward it, feet heavy.

I haven’t stepped foot in a church since the night the moonshard broke and split open my faith. It’s the last place I want to go—and yet it’s the only place Laurel won’t bat an eye at.

I can have a few more hours’ peace from her and strengthen my role as the pious, repentant servant while I figure out what to do next.

My whole body vibrates as I mount the steps. Sweat slicks my palm as I press it to the door. Gritting my teeth, I drag in a long, slow breath through my nose and push inside.

It smells like home. The particular leather of the Odelion, the specific incense burning at the windows, the exact plush of the cushions on the pews.

My stomach seizes. The world tunnels. I cannot breathe.

The priest’s brows rise when he glimpses me, and I force a curt nod as I stumble into the back pew on legs that feel like jelly.

I may be a prisoner on a leash, but for a moment, I pretend I do not know what I know, that I still believe what I once did, that I’m once again the hopeful boy I was before truth would turn me into a liar.

For years, I’ve imagined that the ringing I hear when I cast my magic is the screaming of stars, but sitting here in a place that once meant safety and now feels like a threat, I know I’ve been wrong.

The stars didn’t scream.

It was the innocent, believing boy inside me as the truth tore his world apart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LOLA

When I get back to the Brig, Enzo is waiting. He lounges on my bed, arms bent behind his head, staring up at the sky-light in my ceiling that lets in the watery light from above.

“Enzo.” I shut the door behind me.

“Did you know that fish don’t get new scales as they grow bigger?” he muses. “Their existing scales just enlarge over time, forming rings on them like tree trunks. You can count the rings to figure out how old they are.”

I blink. “Uh, no. I did not know that, in fact.”

“Also.” He pushes to sitting with a lazy grin. “Seahorses use their eyes separately. One can point forward while the other points backward so it’ll see two things at once.”

“That’s . . . fascinating?” I let out a little laugh, trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“Maybe you were a seahorse in another life, Leopard.” His eyes twinkle. “Or maybe you’re secretly seaspawn like me.”

Heat flares in my stomach as I drop into my desk chair and force a laugh. “Maybe.”

He knows I’m not like him, that I have magical properties different from his and Nic’s. How much he knows, though, the Unbreakable Lie has refused to allow me to ask, and he certainly hasn’t given up the information of his own free will.

“You left,” he says, grin fading. Septavia crawls out of his sleeve and slinks down his leg.