Page 37 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals (Mythic Holidays #3)

When Ravager leaves me alone in the room with Drosselmeyer’s possessions, I don’t even try to get free.

I just lie there, too empty for tears.

The rage I felt at his departure was almost a relief, but it didn’t last. Once I saw him disappear through the hole, I felt as if every emotion was wiped right out of me. All I can do is stare ahead, eyes fixed, yet unfocused.

Whether he intends to come back to me or not, he likely won’t survive out there in Annordun alone.

He’s gone. Maven is gone. Boulder and Flex are gone. Scriv is gone, good riddance.

Even if I did make it home, nothing would be the same. So what’s the point?

What is the fucking point?

My mind has gone dull and blank. I am too deeply hurt to feel the hurt anymore, like when the nerves in a damaged limb have been thoroughly destroyed. It’s as if Maven churned up everything inside me, and then Scriv scooped it all out and dumped it at my feet, leaving me hollow.

In the emptiness, I begin to hear a tiny voice. A familiar refrain, one that’s haunted me again and again since I was a child.

It’s all your fault.

Of course my crew wouldn’t want to stay with me. Of course they don’t understand me. People usually like me at first, but once I let them in past a certain point, they inevitably turn away.

It’s not them. It’s me. Something about me is wrong, different, unlikable, unlovable.

I want to rage at them. I want to feel aggrieved and offended. I want to crave vengeance. But I simply can’t summon the energy for any of it.

“I give up,” I whisper. “I’m fucking done.”

“That’s unfortunate,” says a cool voice. “And after I went to so much trouble to bring you here.”

I turn my head, trying to see who’s speaking. The next second my ropes untie themselves and slide away. An unseen force lifts me upright and deposits me on my feet. I stay put where I’m placed, scarcely daring to breathe.

A tall man in golden robes stands a half-dozen steps away from me.

His skin is a smooth, pale green. Wavy emerald hair curls around his pointed ears and cascades far past his shoulders.

His arms are gigantic, and his stance radiates a commanding power that makes me want to collapse helplessly where I stand.

He’s watching me with keen silver eyes beneath dark green brows.

“Lord Steward,” I say faintly.

The Faerie’s lip curls. “I am no Steward. I am Nocturis of the Wild Hunt.”

“The Wild Hunt…” I hesitate, trying to recall Maven’s stories. The term Wild Hunt sounds vaguely familiar, but my brain is too paralyzed by shock and fear to conjure up any specifics. “I’m not familiar with that term.”

He waves a bejeweled hand, as if it doesn’t matter.

“My dealings with you and Ravager are of a different nature than my usual interactions with humans. I was gifted a vision of you by the god-star whom I serve. He assured me that you were the ideal candidates to carry out a task for us. Two desperate and volatile humans who, when thrown together, would create widespread destruction within this fortress.”

“Why would you want this place destroyed?” I ask.

“The Stewards in charge of Annordun have been conspiring together and deceiving their rulers,” he replies.

“They are preserving artifacts and creatures that should be destroyed, all for the purpose of working on a project that, if allowed to continue, would be cataclysmic for this realm and others.”

“So why not inform their rulers of this? Why not kill the Stewards or destroy this place yourself?”

“The Stewards will be dealt with in time. Their conspiracy is a delicate matter, which, if handled wrongly, could be a threat to the fledgling peace between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. The Wild Hunt is not supposed to interfere in such matters, but the magic the Stewards are playing with poses a threat to the god-stars themselves. Since we could not intervene directly, we decided to create a set of circumstances in which neither Fae Court can blame the other for what happens here.”

“So you’re blaming it on a bunch of human criminals,” I say. “You pitted the Javelins and Ravager’s crew against each other. You bribed Wringer to give us the information that brought us all to Annordun.”

“You are more or less correct. Wringer has been dead for some time. A friend of mine has been playing his role under a glamour.”

“I knew something was different about him.”

“Your instincts serve you well. They warned you that something about this mission was too convenient, yet you came anyway.”

“As you say, I was desperate.” I try not to speak too sharply. After all, he’s a being of immense power, one who could probably incinerate me with a single thought. Even though I’m furious, I need to show a modicum of respect.

“You and the rogue have done a fair job of destroying Annordun,” Nocturis continues. “But I need you to finish the task. I can’t have you moaning and weeping on the floor.”

“Forgive me for having human emotions,” I say acidly. “If you want the place destroyed, why didn’t you just hire Ravager to blow it up? Or why not tell us both what you wanted from the very beginning?”

“This could not look like a planned destruction.” The Faerie’s stiff tone betrays his annoyance with me.

“The battle between you had to be real and volatile, because everything that goes on here is magically captured and channeled back to the Stewards. They’ve been carousing, enjoying a Midwinter revel, but within a handful of hours, they will wake from their drunken slumber and check their echo-spheres. ”

“Echo-spheres?”

“The spheres used for observation and communication within Annordun are called echo-spheres. They are similar to a more powerful type of relic known as a god’s-tear or a scrying stone.

They can be paired with illusory orbs embedded in the walls, which appear as eyes, but can perceive both sights and sounds.

What the eyes collect is sent back to the original pair of echo-spheres, one belonging to each Steward.

They will see and hear everything that has occurred here. ”

“Everything?” I swallow nervously. There were no eyes in the kitchen or the pantry, but Ravager and I did naughty things in other rooms where the eyes were watching.

“They will see enough,” Nocturis amends.

“And what about our conversation right now?” I glance around the room, but there are no eyes to be seen. I could swear there were a few earlier.

“I have shielded this room temporarily so we can speak,” Nocturis replies.

“How can you even be here?” I exclaim. “You’re Fae, aren’t you? The only Faeries who can get in here are the Stewards.”

His smile is like a lethal blade unsheathing. “I am not a living Faerie. I am something beyond.”

“Oh… fuck,” I whisper.

“I did not come here to harm you. You were destined for this task, as the god-star has foreseen. But neither his visions nor mine are all-encompassing or infallible. You and Ravager resolved your differences too quickly, in unexpected ways.” He smirks a little and arches an eyebrow.

I feel my cheeks heating with a furious blush.

“We had hoped that your hostilities would continue much longer and result in greater destruction,” he continues.

“But events took a different turn and necessitated this little talk. As I said, I need you to destroy Annordun entirely. The rogue is an expert in such things—he can assist you. You are to ruin it completely, and take no spoils with you when you leave.”

“No spoils? After everything we went through—”

His voice deepens, a threat that tremors in my bones.

“You have no idea how dangerous this place is. Even some of these objects—” he sweeps a hand toward Drosselmeyer’s trove— “are so volatile that they should never have been created. There is no end to the hubris of humans or the pride of Faeries. Humans are always inventing more terrible ways to kill each other, and the Fae are even worse. Neither race can bear to let things go. They always preserve their relics, hide them, lock them away. Inevitably the terrible things come to light again and cause endless pain. Your task is to remove some of the potential sources of pain from the universe. Can you do that for me?”

While he is speaking, he seems to grow taller, sharper, more vicious, surrounded by darkness, flickering with green lightning. I stand my ground, but I’m trembling so hard I can barely say, “What if I don’t?”

“If you refuse to comply, I will destroy the Doras àlainn, and you will be trapped here until the Stewards arrive. You’ll be at their mercy.

They won’t risk an investigation into this matter by their respective rulers, so they’ll kill you both.

Your only chance to survive this is to do as I say. Destroy the fortress.”

“Ravager is in bad shape, and likely to be in worse shape when I get to him,” I point out. “Do you possess the power to heal him?”

The tall Fae reaches into one of the deep pockets of his robes and produces a bright pink candy, gumdrop-shaped and covered in sparkling sugar. “I have one of these healing sweets, crafted by a skilled spellworker. You can eat it yourself or give it to the rogue. The decision is yours.”

I take the candy, watching the light dance over the sugar crystals on its surface.

For a moment, I’m deeply resentful of the Fae and their abilities.

They can craft something with incredible healing power in a delicious form, and yet they do not share their resources with my realm.

Part of me understands why the hunters pursue them, and why Drosselmeyer stole from them.

In some ways, he is not so different from Ravager and me.

He stole from those who could sustain the loss.