Page 1 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 1

ALORA

I ’ve been staking out the Elite’s mansion for over three weeks when I finally, finally catch a break.

Twenty-two nights of minimal sleep huddled under the hood of my cloak on the windy neighboring rooftop. Twenty-three days of listening to mind-numbing chatter from Count Zhao’s household below. Too many meals of jerky and nuts and dried fruit.

It has been six days since I ran out of bread.

When the count’s own Apex guardian makes the mistake I’ve spent all these days and nights waiting for, it feels like the sun coming out to warm me from behind Heshan’s constant cloud cover.

Even in fall, the bite of the mountain wind is harsh. But I swear the whipping wind gentles by my ears, a softer touch, whispering at me to listen closer.

“Mark my words: after tonight, we’ll finally be rid of her,” the massive Apex promises.

“Who—the countess?” As usual, the human gatekeeper is a little slow on the uptake .

A snarl erupts from the Apex guardian. The gatekeeper and I both start. “No, you idiot. The daughter. She’s been angling for a proposal, and the count has plans to secure her match tonight.”

I pop another piece of walnut flesh into my mouth, riveted by the drama. It’s clear, to me at least, that this guardian carries a torch for his lord’s daughter despite the strict laws forbidding Apex and human relations that extend to every country in Valenrae. Apex serve the human Elite, they don’t marry them.

But the brute’s obsession has turned to resentment the longer the girl continues to ignore him. I hope for the young Lady Zhao’s sake this really is her chance to escape this guardian’s oversight. He practically breathes violence, and it has nothing to do with his species.

“The girl’s gone three seasons with no suitors. What’s different about tonight? And what would a dumb animal know about Elite proposals anyway?” the gatekeeper retorts.

Like the rest of the human populace, I maintain a healthy fear of Apex myself. You never know when they might go feral and unleash all that power on anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. But I still can’t help but wince at the vulgar slur, no matter who it's directed at.

“Let’s just say that when all the eligible lords arrive for the ball tonight, the spoiled brat will be showing off the very reason they should make their proposal posthaste,” the Apex replies in a derisive tone that demonstrates exactly what he thinks of the young lady’s plot to secure a husband.

And that’s just what I need—a confirmed location.

Reconnaissance is strange work. It’s a little like reading a good book—you get so sucked into the characters and the tension and the stories that when it finally ends, it’s downright wrenching to come back to your own reality. But the burn of my wind-battered cheeks as I pack up my bedroll and gear is enough to bring me most of the way back. The wafting smell as I dump the bucket that’s served as my chamber pot these past three weeks does the rest.

The life of a thief is not as glamorous as the tales make it out to be .

Numb fingers prickling painfully on the iron bars, I make my way down the townhouse fire escape on the opposite side of Count Zhao’s luxurious mansion.

The second my boots hit the ground, I’m moving away at a slow and steady pace, my gear in a pack on my back. My hopelessly tangled hair is tucked into the hood of my cloak. Even the long braid can’t hide how my normally warm chestnut locks have turned dull and dark with grease.

For nearly the entire walk to The Spinning Top, I fantasize about the bath I’ll order at the inn—the Shanterran Guild’s base of operations. I swear I can practically smell the expensive jasmine soap. It’s a long walk, too—from Count Zhao’s estate in the Elite northern district, with views of the surrounding mountains, to the southern valley where the plebeians live.

With every step, my shoulders relax a little more. The dull tension headache that’s been my constant companion these past weeks from straining to hear through the howling wind begins to fade. Warmth spreads through my muscles as I move, the stiffness melting away.

Feeling nearly peaceful, I let myself savor the win. Tonight, I steal the Pearls of Azure.

They’re an almost mythical artifact, said to have been worn by the sea goddess herself and imbued with mysterious power. I’m fairly certain it’s just an ancient necklace, but the story drives up the price, so who am I to argue?

I’ve no idea how they ended up in the count’s hands. This job is a blind commission —Guild-speak for a job where neither Xinlei nor I know the buyer’s identity. All we had to go on was a vague location. Last I heard, the pearls were snatched by an infamous pirate captain, the Sea Serpent, and assumed lost to Thalassarian waters. How the buyer discovered they’d ended up with the count is anybody’s guess.

Maybe the Sea Serpent himself wants me to steal them back for him. He’ll get his wish. But I’ll make damn sure everyone knows it was the Lynx—not the Serpent—who pulled it off.

Too soon, I arrive at The Spinning Top. The wooden sign swinging wildly out front is carved with the eponymous whirling top, the sigil of Jinai, god of tricksters and liars. A sign not just for the inn but for any traveling guild members looking for respite.

And I am in dire need of respite.

Sadly, it’s going to have to wait until after I make my report.

I swagger into the tavern, pausing by the bar to let Shenmi know I’m back.

“Gods, Alora!” The guild steward starts coughing theatrically. Rui and Haoran, perched on stools nearby, physically recoil, their faces scrunched up in disgust.

“It’s not that bad.” It probably is that bad. I’m at the point where I can’t really smell myself anymore, thank Jinai, but I imagine my stench is downright revolting. The corner of my lips twitch with the effort to contain my smile.

I slide a gold coin imprinted with Jinai’s seal across the bar. “Can you have a bath sent up for me?”

Shenmi pinches her fingers over her pert nose, so her answer comes out muffled and nasal. “Fine. You’re in the green room.”

My jaw drops. She’s offered me the smallest room in the inn. “What happened to the red room?”

Shenmi’s dark eyes narrow. “You’ve been gone for nearly a month. It’s occupied.”

The Spinning Top is a revolving door of thieves and spies passing through Heshan on assignment. I’m one of the few who always returns. Since the day I appeared in this country at fifteen, with no memory, this inn has been my only home.

Apparently, not even a decade is long enough for Shenmi and everyone else in the Shanterran Guild to accept my Veridian heritage. It’s not enough that I speak every dialect in this country—and there are many—as well as a native. It’s not enough that I’m the most notorious thief in the guild, raising our reputation with every high-profile heist. All they see is the olive tint to my skin, the light amber of my eyes. With the exception of Xinlei, the people of Shanterra take every opportunity to treat me like the foreigner I appear to be .

The gnawing ache in my chest that never really goes away makes its presence known. My fingers reach automatically for the tiny golden lynx charm on my necklace.

I’m just out of practice dealing with their prejudice. “Xinlei’s in his office?”

Shenmi is aghast. “You’re going in there before bathing?”

I send her a mocking half-smile. “Rule Number Six.” Plan thoroughly, act swiftly. Once you have your plan, put the pieces into place immediately.

It’s possible I swing my smelly cloak a little more than necessary as I spin towards the guild master’s office. Gagging sounds echo behind me, and my lips curve higher.

For a nearly full inn, the rest of the tavern is deserted. The Spinning Top’s guests tend more towards the nocturnal, so the low couches and battered wooden tables won’t start to fill again until supper.

I stride past the large fireplace to an unassuming door tucked beside the staircase. The pattern of quick knocks is specific to me, so when Xinlei finally opens up, there’s no surprise on his wrinkled face. Just the wide smile he reserves for his most profitable guild member.

“Alora! Come in, come in.” Xinlei has only a human’s sense of smell, and even that is probably compromised due to age, but he’d have to have lost his olfactory sense completely not to notice my stench. He hides it well, though.

Removing my hood, I confirm what he’s likely gathered. “I came straight from reconnaissance.”

He bobs his head of white hair. “Rule Number Six.” The guild master is already turning back to his workbench, drawn irresistibly to whatever new project he’s tinkering with now—some kind of silver plate with a weighted spring mechanism.

Tiny screwdrivers, pliers and tension wrenches are scattered haphazardly on every surface, mingling with delicate lockpicks and oddly shaped files. Shelves line the walls of the small office, bowing under the weight of jars filled with brass tumblers, old lock mechanisms and keys of every size and shape imaginable .

The faint metallic scent of oil and brass lingers in the air, mixed with the dusty smell of old wood. It’s comforting. I used to fall asleep curled up in that leather chair after late-night planning sessions. But it’s been a long time since I relied on anyone else to plan my heists.

Xinlei, his eyes like black coal, peers up from the silver plate, a fat ruby in one hand and a simple rock in the other. “Do me a favor. Try to replace the coin purse on this plate with one of these.”

“Without setting off the alarm?”

“Naturally.”

I take the rock in one hand and the ruby in the other, eyeing the purse critically to assess its weight. With a shrug, I pocket the rock, then use one hand to snatch the purse and the other to slide the ruby in its place.

The resulting alarm is so loud, I have to cover my ears. Xinlei leans over and resets the spring. “What was your mistake?”

I suppress a sigh. “I should have chosen the rock.”

“They’re both the same weight.”

My eyes widen and I study the plate with renewed interest. “I don’t see the sensor.”

“It’s designed by the Veridian Guild’s key master.” Xinlei crouches down and examines the mechanism, prodding it gently with a curved finger. “I think he’s using blood magic.”

A shudder prickles down my spine. The Veridian Guild is free to do as they please in their own country, but the latest rumor is they’ve been selling their knowledge to the Elite as some kind of security service. Designing uncrackable holding containers for Elite valuables. If they’re using blood magic, an Apex might be involved.

“Then…I suppose my mistake was not asking more questions.”

The Shanterran guild master finally abandons his project and smiles up at me, crow’s feet crinkling. “Bravo, Lynxling.”

Enough time wasted on his never-ending lessons. “I have a confirmed location, and I’ll be securing the prize tonight. ”

Xinlei’s white brows furrow. “What’s your in?” I must visibly bristle because the old lockpick hastily holds up his hands in peace. “I’m not meddling. I know you’re the big bad Lynx who can take care of herself. I’m just asking…one professional to another.”

I may be the Shanterran Guild’s best thief, but Xinlei is the one who taught me nearly everything I know. We’ll never be equal, and we both know it.

“Sure you are.” I give my mentor an unamused look, but the conditioned reflex to answer him is too deeply ingrained. “The young lady will be wearing the pearls tonight at a ball in her honor. Her father is trying to use the display to force a proposal.”

“A guardian said that?”

“Good as much.” I shrug. “He’s obsessed with his mistress.”

“Big mistake to be gossiping about the security of an item like that,” Xinlei remarks neutrally. “Especially for an Apex.”

My lips press into a hard, flat line. It’s like I’ll always be a novice in Xinlei’s eyes—the same vulnerable child he took in under the guild’s protective wing ten years ago. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, old man?”

He tosses me an innocent smile.

“I was out on that rooftop for over three weeks, Xinlei,” I bite out through gritted teeth. “Trust me, it’s in character for the male. Now, can you let the client know I’m ready or can’t you?”

He makes a placating gesture, and I cast about for my trunk—ah, there it is, hidden under a mountain of rolled papers. The locks on it are top-notch, of course, but I still prefer to leave the trunk containing all my worldly possessions in Xinlei’s office when I’m out on a job. This inn is full of thieves, after all.

I start to drag the heavy trunk by an iron handle towards the door when a wrinkled hand shoots out and grips my wrist in a surprisingly strong hold. My gaze snaps back to the guild master.

“Lynxling—no calling card tonight. I mean it. ”

I yank my wrist out of Xinlei’s grasp, exasperated with the mollycoddling. “The Pearls of Azure are a famous prize. One of the most famous. How am I going to maintain my reputation without leaving a calling card?”

“How are you going to maintain your reputation if you’re dead?” he counters evenly. “Rule Number Nine. Promise me, Alora.”

“Right, right, ‘leave no trace.’”

It’s not that I’m not thankful for Xinlei—I am, deeply.

He’s the one who taught me the guild’s Ten Rules as a tender child, for Jinai’s sake. The old worrywart is the closest person I have to a parental figure in my life. Maybe the closest I’ll ever have.

That familiar ache spasms again.

“I want your word, Lynxling,” Xinlei insists as I’m making my escape towards my well-earned bath, the groan of the trunk scraping behind me.

“No calling card,” I promise.

But in my pocket, where the old guild master can’t see, my fingers are crossed.