Page 71 of Heart of Thieves

Enzo is late.

I search the horizon, fidgeting with my gown, willing him to materialize as the sun sinks toward the sea.

Sunset is when things are supposed to begin. The musicians have begun to play, and my illusions, set in pieces of voratium I placed strategically around the square, are working beautifully. Everything is going according to plan.

But the main stage, which I had set up on City Hall’s steps between massive marble pillars, stands empty waiting for Nocturne. Hundreds— if not a thousand—people mill about, whispering excitedly, waving gloved hands, and tossing perfectly coiffed hair.

I was hoping Isla, Arden, and I would be able to meet Enzo, Jade, and Soren before things got underway. Debrief about the Opalton job, establish our game plan for tonight. I then would find a way to excuse myself—perhaps spill something on my dress so I could rush to a rest-room. At that point, I’d sweep onto the stage as Nocturne, then return as Lola once I finished and pretend I was disappointed to have missed the introduction.

But they’re not here yet. If Enzo arrives while I’m onstage and can’t find me in the crowd, he’ll likely focus on our heart, which will lead him right to me. There’s no telling how the Unbreakable Lie might compromise me then to keep Enzo from learning I’ve deceived him— and I can’t risk it undermining the plan.

“Where are they?” I murmur to Isla and Arden, who stand at my side dressed in matching glittering blue.

Isla straightens her blond wig. My father promised he wouldn’t attend the game, but as he’s been hunting us for months, we’ve donned disguises to keep from being recognized. “Can’t you tell how close he is?” she whispers back.

I sink into our heart for the dozenth time in the last five minutes. “He’s moving quickly. They’re likely in a cab or on the subway. And they’re close.”

Blowing out a slow breath to calm my nerves, I smooth my skirt. I don’t have many dresses down in the Brig, at least none fancy enough to wear to a party like this, so Isla and I stopped at a shop before we came. It’s a simple, elegant gown—a floor-length, sleeveless, silky number that drapes carefully in all the right places with matching gloves that reach above my elbows, within which I’ve concealed several voratium bracelets.

And it’s the exact turquoise of the orchids in Nic’s underground grotto.

I try not to think of Nic every time I glimpse my reflection in a mirror or window, but I can’t seem to help searching the crowd for him anyway. He’s on the other end of the square now, and though I haven’t looked his way in ten minutes, I can feel him every time I dip into my magic. A chill in my peripheral vision, a spark of electricity just out of sight.

I try not to hope he’s watching me. He’s with Laurel again, after all.

But even as I try to shake away his gaze, my pinkie finger still sparks with the feeling of his curling around it for a second there on the dance floor. His words, hushed and urgent in my ear. Stay away from Laurel. She’s dangerous.

When I met his gaze, it seemed like how he used to be. No icy glow in those irises, no cold wall keeping me out like when he tried to shoot me or when I met him in that church.

But I don’t have time to puzzle through what that glow or its absence might mean. It’s probably another lie meant to confuse me, like all the others.

“It’s about to set!” someone cries, pointing at where the last edge of the sun clings to the watery horizon.

Whispers rustle as the light sinks out of sight. The musicians silence their instruments—just as I instructed them to, damn me—and the crowd hushes, turning expectantly toward the stage.

Enzo is probably about two miles away. I cannot go up there, not when he’ll come here looking for me.

Pulling at the icy sensation of voratium against my wrist, I craft an illusion on the spot. A darkness unfurling from the horizon exactly where the sun just disappeared. Tentacle-like ribbons of smoke crawling out of the ocean.

Delighted shrieks ripple on every side as the spectators take notice.

One mile until Enzo is here.

More ropes of ebony fling out of the sea, braiding upward, forming elongated human shadows dancing across the water, growing until their outstretched arms dust the stars.

Something is missing. I frown as the eerie silence presses in. I haven’t practiced as much with creating auditory illusions outside of altering my own voice, but whenever Nic put on a show at the Liar’s Den, it was always accompanied by perfectly coordinated music.

I weave an eerie, resonant melody I heard once long ago on a record my nursemaid owned. A single violin. The audience holds its breath, spellbound.

I can’t help myself; I grin. No wonder Nic put on so many parties. This is creativity on another level—art like I haven’t experienced in all my life. It’s fun.

“Lola! Isla! Arden!” a voice whispers, and we glimpse Enzo. Missing most of his jewelry and wearing a voratium disguise, he’s unrecognizable except for those green eyes I’d know anywhere, even framed with pale lashes and drooping, elderly skin under silver-white hair. He and Jade shoulder past the nearest onlookers to meet us, while Soren—also in disguise—rushes to Arden.

“Sorry we’re late,” Enzo breathes. “What did we miss?”

“It’s just starting,” I whisper, keeping my illusion flowing.

“Nocturne hasn’t arrived yet,” Isla adds.