Page 50 of Heart of Thieves

She sinks against me with a pleased smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you think the gods have forgiven me yet?” I ask, releasing my die, sliding my hands to her waist and pulling her closer in hopes of drawing her attention away from the people I care about. “For being a liar and a criminal?”

“I hope so,” she whispers. “I certainly have.”

Moonlight outlines her irises in silver. She truly is beautiful, just like when I fell for her at sixteen.

But depths, I wish it were Lola here with me.

So when I tip her chin up to me and press my mouth to hers, I close my eyes and pretend it’s my little thief I’m kissing. Lie to myself the way I’ve lied to countless others. Lie and lie and lie and hope that one day one of these lies will make up for all the horrors my deception has wrought.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ENZO

I forge into the Brig hallway, shouldering a pack of supplies I just stole from several hardware stores downtown. Soren and Jade materialize on either side of me, shaking beach sand off their boots.

“You’d better clean that up.” I shoot them a mock scowl and gesture with my elbow at the mess. “I may be a degenerate, but I refuse to live in filth.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Jade says with a snort and a bow. “I wouldn’t dream of desecrating your royal floors.”

“Your Majesty,” I say with a grin. “I like the way that sounds. Soren? Call me that from now on.”

“Absolutely not.” Soren deadpans.

We set off down the hall toward the treasury to stow our spoils. As we pass Lola’s room, a telltale squeaking pierces the air, and I slow my pace.

The pulleys in her aerial apparatus riggings have needed to be oiled for a few weeks now. She must be practicing, though it’s only nine in the morning, a time considered practically midnight by most of my team.

“Hey.” I hand my bags to Jade. “Put this away for me, would you? We’ll meet up in the common area in a minute.”

They both nod and disappear down the hall, leaving me alone in front of Lola’s door.

Inside, the pulley continues to squeak, and a moment later, a dull thud echoes through the wall followed by a muttered curse. Lola’s frustration sparks inside me. Seems she’s working on something difficult today. Perhaps a drop. She hates those.

I press my palm to the door until it clicks open a crack. She hangs upside down, the bottom curve of the hoop against her lower back, her rear creating a shelf that keeps her extended legs braced on the other side of the apparatus from her torso like an inverted star.

Grimacing, she bends her knees so she can grip each ankle, and then, with a tiny shriek, she pulls her knees together and juts her hips forward so her rear slides over the front of the hoop. It looks like she’s meant to land in the pits of her knees, but her hands slip off her ankles, and she slams into the mat beneath with a gasp.

“Piece of garbage,” she growls at the hoop twirling innocently above her, and she waves a crude gesture at it.

I smile, leaning against the doorway. I hope it’s enough for her. The studio we’ve built. The tattoo on her arm. The life I’ve tried to give her.

“Enz?” Lola catches sight of me as she gets to her feet.

I waggle my fingers. “Hi there, Lettuce.”

“You need something?” She rubs loose chalk along her palms, and the white dust catches in her calluses.

“I just heard the rigging going. Wanted to say hello.”

“The job went off without a hitch?”

“Come on.” I spread my hands. “I’m a professional. Do you even need to ask?”

With a laugh, she hoists herself back up onto the hoop, and I marvel at how fluidly she moves despite the fact that she picked up this hobby a matter of months ago.

“You probably need rest, right?” I say as she maneuvers into the same upside-down position, bending her knees and grasping her ankles once more. “You’re typically asleep at this hour.”