Page 9 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals (Mythic Holidays #3)

The inner keep of Annordun is a narrow rectangle constructed of gray stone.

Sheer walls soar upward, studded with an assortment of eyes that all close occasionally, making it look far less magical if no less intimidating.

It’s almost comical how quickly I got used to the eyes, how easily I can ignore them now that I know they can’t actually harm us.

When they’re all closed at once, I nearly forget they exist. It’s a little startling every time they appear again, but I’m not scared of them anymore.

The fortress doesn’t exactly have a roof so much as a collection of small towers with sharp hexagonal peaks, dotted with windows that I can already tell are too small for a person to fit through.

The towers appear to be mostly ornamental.

I’ve never seen architecture quite like it—it’s almost as if the creators were trying to mimic human castles or cathedrals without having any intimate knowledge or understanding of either type of building.

At the north end, I spot one huge watchtower looming over it all—the circle that was marked near the top of the sketch.

The front of the keep faces south, near as I can tell from the position of the moon, which has reappeared between the clouds.

Faerie and the mortal realm are, as Maven once put it, two sides of the same coin.

I think she got the phrase from one of her books.

We share the same heavenly bodies, and time passes at the same rate in both realms.

In the expanse of the southward wall stands a single large door, the only entrance Maven was able to find in her research. Above the door is a narrow lancet window.

Together, we walk all the way around the keep, and I determine that it is three stories high, not counting the smaller towers, which look merely decorative, or the largest one, which appears to be a few stories taller.

There is a single wide window on the east side of the keep, on the second floor, and a matching one on the west side.

Both are shielded by panes of ruby glass, and both look big enough to admit a person, so they could be our backup routes if we can’t get through the front door.

“The keep is smaller than I thought it would be,” comments Maven as we return to the front of the building.

“Still large enough that it will take hours to search,” replies Scriv. “We should get inside and get started.”

“I’ll do the lock.” I remove my goggles and slide my tiny lockpick kit out of my back pocket.

My crew follows me to the broad doorstep, where I sink to one knee and lay my kit open on the smooth stone. Scriv and Maven both set down their packs with sighs of relief.

“Get out a crystal stick, Boulder,” says Maven. “Maybe two. The moon is weak, and she’ll need extra light, since she hasn’t done this in a while.”

I grit my teeth to hold back a caustic retort. I want to believe that Maven means well, that she’s trying to help, rather than undermining me. Still, her lack of confidence in my skills is irritating.

The other Javelins crowd onto the doorstep with me, and Flex leans over as I select my tools. “I’d use your thinnest stem with a substantial hook.”

“Not the half-diamond?” asks Scriv.

“I prefer the lightning-bolt one,” puts in Boulder.

“You just like the way it looks,” Flex mutters. “That’s why you’re no good at locks.”

“You can borrow my jiggler set if you want, Devilry,” Maven suggests. “Yours look a bit short for a lock this size.”

Ignoring them, I select my favorite hook and pick, then lean close to the door, my pulse tripping rapidly.

Lockpicking was never my greatest talent, and it’s been a while since I’ve done a big, old-fashioned lock like this.

Like the other lock we encountered, it has an aggressively human design and looks as if it’s crafted from solid iron, designed to resist magical interference and stump Faeries who don’t have the key.

I should be able to handle it just fine, if I could listen to the inner workings of the lock, if I could hear myself think, but my team is still talking.

“The keyway looks really deep,” Maven comments. “How many pins do you think it has?”

“No idea, but Devilry, don’t use too much force or you’ll bind the pins too hard and it will be tough to lift the stacks,” says Flex.

“I wonder if there’s a bathroom in the keep,” mutters Boulder.

Scriv sighs. “Devilry, why don’t you let Flex do it? It would be faster.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” Flex moves forward.

“Oh my fucking god,” I exclaim, lowering the tools. “I’m perfectly capable! I just need some peace and quiet. I wish you would all go away and let me do this by myself!”

Something buzzes in my pocket, and there’s a whispering rush through the air around me, like a chill flowing outward.

And suddenly I’m kneeling on the doorstep alone.

Every single member of my team is gone. The only sign of them is the two packs that Boulder and Maven set down.

“What… the fuck,” I whisper.

I jump up, scanning the lawn. No one is in sight.

They didn’t run off—they just vanished.

My mind immediately goes to that brief buzz in my left pocket. The only thing in there is the odd little stone Maven gave me, the one that might be for luck, strength… or making wishes.

Shit, shit, and double shit.

I made a wish while I had a fucking wishing stone in my pocket. Apparently the stone didn’t have to be in my hand in order for it to work, which seems like a foolish flaw in its design.

“No,” I breathe. “Oh no. Shit, shit, shit.”

I pull the stone out. It’s glossy black like before, except there’s a series of bright orange dots running along its surface in an endless circuit, like a snake slithering and coiling.

“I wish my team would come back,” I tell it.

No response. None of them reappear.

“Fuck,” I whisper, sinking to the ground. “Fuck me.”

What did I say? What exactly did I say?

I’m perfectly capable, I just need some peace and quiet. I wish you would all go away and let me do this by myself!

I didn’t say I wished them gone forever. So maybe this isn’t permanent. Maybe, once I unlock the door of the fortress, they’ll reappear.

Stuffing the stone back in my pocket, I return to the lock.

If I’m honest, it is much easier to focus without multiple voices admonishing and advising me.

I sublimate my anxiety about my crew as best I can, working my tools deftly until the lock releases and I can open the door.

Since it’s a complex lock, it takes me about half an hour.

But even with the lock conquered and the door open, none of my people reappear.

Cursing loudly and propping the door with my shoulder, I pull out the stone and survey it again. This time I count the dots coiling across its surface—twenty-four in all.

Twenty-four what? Twenty-fours hours? Maybe that’s how long the wish lasts.

I could try to proceed with the heist, but I have no idea what I’ll encounter inside the fortress, and there’s no way I can carry all the loot we’d planned to gather by myself.

I could give up on the heist and go home. Maven left her bag behind with the Doras álainn inside it, so I have the means to return to the mortal realm. But what if my team reappears here when the wish expires? They’ll be stranded. I won’t do that to them.

Waiting for them looks like my only option. Which means I’ll be spending twenty-four hours in Annordun, far longer than I ever planned to spend in Faerie.

In the meantime, I should make myself useful. I can explore the fortress slowly and carefully, watching for any traps or spells. I can locate Drosselmeyer’s collection and sort through it to find the pieces that are most portable and most likely to fetch a high price.

I don’t let myself think about what I’ll do if twenty-four hours expire and my people don’t return. Maybe the stone will be ready for another request by then, and I can wish them back.

But if they’re gone—really gone—and it’s all my fault, then I will never forgive myself. They may irritate me occasionally and treat me poorly from time to time, but they’re the closest thing I have to family.

I doubt the lock I picked will re-lock on its own if the front door closes, but I’m not taking any chances.

Using my own pack as a temporary doorstop, I dart over and pick up the packs Scriv and Maven left behind.

They’re purposely light to leave room for treasure, so even though it’s a little unwieldy carrying those bags along with my own, it’s not overly burdensome.

With no other choice but to keep moving, I forge through the door and breach the inner keep.

I’m not sure what I expected from the interior of Annordun, but it certainly wasn’t the elegant warmth of a mansion.

The walls are paneled in a rich wood that seems to have gold sparkles embedded in it, like flecks of shiny sand, while gold eyes wink open and shut along the ceiling.

The carpet running down the hallway before me is scarlet and luxuriously thick.

In alcoves along the corridor stand urns overflowing with flowers, their hues so brilliant and their beauty so divine that for a moment I’m dazed by the sight of them.

Maven always told me that Faerie was a place of strange beauty, of loveliness that could overpower the human mind. So far, Annordun has been more daunting than dazzling, but these blooms give me a taste of what she meant. I only wish she could see them.

As the door of the keep closes behind me, the true understanding of how isolated I am begins to set in.

I am alone in Annordun. Alone in Faerie.

Alone in a place of riches and wonders.

I can’t remember the last time I was really, truly, alone in a house. I’ve been alone on the streets of Belgate, alone while running errands, but when I’m at the Hearth, there’s always someone around.

There’s no one in this fortress—at least not that I can see or hear. If I wanted to dance around naked in Annordun, I could.