Page 10

Chapter

Six

TESSA

The upstairs hallway is quiet as I tiptoe past empty bedrooms. No guards are on duty on the fourth floor, which makes sense.

There’s nothing to guard, not when most of the gang has left for the night.

But I know there must be people on the lower floors, so I try not to make any noise.

I creep forward, checking room after room to make sure I’m alone.

I’ve been here twice before to visit Lindie when she’d fallen ill.

The first time was years ago, before they turned the large communal space that had been here into separate bedrooms for the gang members.

Lindie had occupied a corner of that space, next to Faye, another female member of the gang.

Her bed had been little more than a pallet with some blankets thrown over it.

I’d brought her soup and tea and stayed for an hour or so before she was too tired to talk.

Since then, Damen had taken over the Ravens after the untimely demise of their previous leader, and the gang has prospered.

They renovated the mansion, built individual rooms, and put on a show of being a legitimate business operation.

The second time I visited Lindie, she’d turned her ankle on a job and had to rest for a week.

She showed me her little bedroom, which had a wooden bed with a proper mattress, a down pillow, and a small table topped with a vase of summer wildflowers.

It had been too hot in there, with the afternoon sun blasting through the single window, but Lindie had been so proud of her small space, a home more beautiful than any she’d had until then.

Her room was somewhere…around…here…

I try the door on the right, but it opens into a bedchamber larger than Lindie’s. A man must live here, judging by the size of the boots resting by the bed, so I back out quickly and close the door.

If not that one, then perhaps…

I press on the next door handle, but it doesn’t open. I curse under my breath, though I expected this. How any self-respecting thief could leave their room unlocked is beyond me. But this means I’ll have to pick this lock and possibly others before I locate Lindie’s quarters.

Luck is on my side, or perhaps my memory serves me well. The lock isn’t sophisticated, which shows a level of trust in her crew that I certainly wouldn’t afford them. She must have believed she was safe here if all she had was this flimsy lock.

I close my eyes and feel for the pins of the locking mechanism. They click, so I pull my tools away and straighten. I glance both ways to make sure I’m still alone, then slip into the room and close the door behind me.

The low light makes it difficult to see.

The window at the far end is hidden behind curtains, but at this time of night—and in this horrible weather—it wouldn’t do much good to open them.

I fumble around until I find a candle and a flint on Lindie’s bedside table.

Then I take a deep breath and strike a spark to light the wick.

It’s a risk, but I can’t search the space without light.

The flame flickers to life, casting a yellow glow through the room.

The scene reminds me of last night, when I’d done the same in the orc’s quarters.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s noticed the theft yet.

A flash of guilt surprises me. If I thought I could get in and out unnoticed, I’d return those letters to him, since I have no use for them.

Not the gold, though. I’m keeping that. I’ll need it in the coming weeks while I search for Lindie, because I won’t be able to work during that time.

It’ll be too dangerous to steal on the road, in unfamiliar towns or villages where I don’t know my escape routes.

Slowly, I turn in a circle, looking for anything out of place. The first thing I notice is my wet footprints leading from the door to where I’m standing.

I’m sure the trail from the window where I breached the house to Lindie’s room is just as distinct. If anyone comes up to this floor, they’ll see my footprints immediately and know something’s amiss.

Hurry.

I set the candle on the table beside the empty vase and open Lindie’s wooden chest. It’s only half full, and as I root through her various clothes and belongings, I note one thing—all her warm clothes are gone.

The simple wool dress she liked to wear, the cloak she bought from that shop by the South Gate, her winter boots, mittens, and shawl.

Her summer dresses remain, those made of linen, too thin for this kind of weather.

I move on to the boxes under her bed, where she keeps her underclothes and stockings, and half of those are missing, too, as if she packed for a stay longer than a few nights.

“Where did you go?” I whisper as I push the box back in place.

And why didn’t she tell me she was leaving?

If she was going out of town, surely she would’ve warned me.

A fresh wave of guilt washes over me. I haven’t been a good friend lately.

I worked too much, then left for Morav to fence the jewelry.

I should’ve stopped by for tea more often these past few weeks.

Maybe she didn’t feel like she could trust me anymore.

Well, I’m here now. And I won’t rest until I find out where she’s gone.

She’s the only real friend I have, and I can’t lose her.

I need to know she’s safe, and for that, I need to find her.

If she sends me away and tells me to leave her alone because she’s on a job, I’ll respect that.

But what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make a fuss about her disappearance?

There’s nothing in Lindie’s room to point me toward any specific direction.

Her satchel is gone, though I find a small stash of coins sewn into the lining of her wooden chest. I leave those in place, wondering what that means.

Did she think she’d be returning for the money soon?

Or was she taken before she could grab it?

But if someone forced her to leave, why would they pack her winter clothes for her?

The more I search, the more I wonder if I’m making this bigger than it really is.

If Damen sent her on a job that required packing, she could be back safely in a week, and I’ll be the fool who broke into her gang’s headquarters for nothing.

But if that’s true, why wouldn’t he just say so?

I’ve worked with the Ravens before, so why wouldn’t Damen tell me Lindie was still on a job for him?

Something’s off.

I snuff out the candle, not bothering to air out Lindie’s room like I did the orc’s.

She won’t be returning anytime soon. I lock the door behind me to keep the other gang members out, then tiptoe farther down the corridor toward the central staircase.

I peer down; the house is dark. No doubt they’re saving candles now that most of their people have left.

That gives me more cover, but I grip the banister just in case.

I don’t want to tumble down the stairs and make a racket.

I wouldn’t be able to climb back out with a twisted ankle, either.

On the third floor, there are more doors, some leading to bedrooms of the more important gang members.

Other rooms are filled with precious items the gang either stole or traded for: paintings, beautiful furniture, and carpets, all organized and covered in white dust sheets.

My heart beats faster with every space I check, and I tiptoe around, trying not to succumb to panic.

If I can’t find any clue of where Lindie went here, tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do. There hasn’t been any sign of her in days, and if Damen won’t talk…

No, this is my one chance.

I return to the staircase and stop to listen once more. There’s a flicker of light from the first floor, but no voices, no footsteps. If I were a guard on duty tonight, I’d do rounds from time to time, certainly, but I’d stay in the kitchens where it’s warm for most of the time.

But maybe their leader gave them different instructions, so I keep my senses on high alert as I descend quickly to the second floor.

Here, the doors are larger, and to my surprise, none are locked.

Perhaps Damen concluded that no one in his gang would be dumb enough to steal from him, and I suppose he’s right.

His men and women are loyal as they come, as evidenced by the fact that not one of them offered up any information when I was asking around about Lindie.

And yes, these must be the gang leader’s rooms. No other member of his posse would live in such opulence, I’m certain of that.

His bedroom boasts a four-poster bed with royal blue curtains made of the finest brocade, and the coverlet is made of silk.

I think of stealing it for a moment, but it would be too cumbersome to drag onto the roof, especially after it got wet from the rain.

Still, it would be lovely to sleep on silk for once.

I turn away from the bed and scan the room.

There’s no desk, and the armoire holds only clothes—doublets, shirts, and breeches, all scented with the cologne Damen favors.

I wrinkle my nose and step back. It’s nothing like the gentle scent I noticed in the orc’s room.

It wasn’t his soap. I used the bar I stole this morning, and it didn’t come close to the aroma that’s stuck in my mind.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I can’t be thinking about the stranger, not now.

Damen must have an office somewhere in this house. This is only his bedroom, which makes sense. A man of business wouldn’t want to hold meetings where he sleeps. That means…

I swallow thickly, glancing back at the staircase. I’m almost certain the office is on the first floor. Where else could it be? It would be most convenient to have it there, so visitors wouldn’t traipse around the living quarters but would remain below, easily secured.

That means I’ll have to descend as well, walk right past the guards…