Page 17

Chapter

Ten

ARLON

“Godsdamnit.”

I pull at the rope tying my wrists behind my back, and the damp coils dig into my skin. If my head wasn’t ringing from the blow the thief dealt me, I’d tear them apart. But she did a good job trussing me up, which is unsurprising, given her profession.

My fated mate—the one woman I cannot live without—is a thief. A criminal. An accomplished burglar who stole not only from me but also from the largest gang in the city.

She’s so pretty. I never saw her face in my dreams, but I never could have imagined anything as beautiful.

I glance around the abandoned room, and my gaze lands on something metal glinting under an upturned chair.

With a groan, I heave myself to my feet and hop over, wobbling with each jump because my ankles are also bound.

Once there, I have no option but to flop gracelessly to the floor and scoot around until I wrap my fingers around the hilt.

It’s one of mine, forged in Bellhaven, shaped to fit my palm perfectly. That doesn’t help me much right now. I hold it awkwardly between my fingers and saw at the bindings on my wrists. I nick my skin more than once and already regret giving away Taris’ ointment.

But I couldn’t let the thief leave without it, not after seeing the damage to her hand.

Whatever had been in the gang leader’s safe must have been highly corrosive to burn her like that.

Just thinking of her discomfort makes my blood boil, and I have to remind myself that going back to the Ravens’ mansion to murder the man who set the trap would be a very bad idea.

Major Strahl would have my hide if I killed Damen. I’d be the one facing trial then.

How often do people survive trials where you’re from?

That’s what she asked, her conviction clear. I’ve seen the kind of justice the Duke of Ultrup hands out to criminals. Forced labor for thieves and petty crooks. Exile or hanging for more serious offenders.

Where would her crimes land her? I have no idea, mostly because I know nothing about her beyond the two thefts she committed in the past two nights. Judging by her level of skill, I’d say she’s had plenty of practice.

I can’t help the resentment that rises at the thought. I’ve spent my life training to uphold the law and protect my people. And now I’m supposed to accept that the woman destined for me is a crook? The Fates must be laughing at me.

The ropes at my back snap. I bring my arms forward with a groan, massaging my bruised wrists. Then I snatch up the dagger, cut the restraints on my ankles, and stand, searching the room to see if she left anything else behind.

I’m surprised she left me the weapon, given that the hilt is inlaid with gold. But perhaps she judged it a difficult piece to pawn.

I need to know what she took from the Ravens. She opened the safe, so she must have been after something valuable or dangerous. I’d hoped she’d tell me, but she was too distrustful to give anything away.

She could have confided in me. I saved her life tonight, after all. I doubt she’d have been able to climb to the roof with her hand that badly injured.

It’s not that I resent saving her. Not at all. I couldn’t leave her there, no matter what she’d done. She was right to claim that Damen is likely out for blood. If his goons had found her hanging there, unable to defend herself, she might not have survived the night.

The thought alone makes my stomach churn. I swallow down the anger and resentment and move toward the back door.

It’s barred, but one good shove with my shoulder pops it off its hinges, and the whole thing crashes to the floor, kicking up a cloud of filth.

I grimace, scrunching my eyes shut against the dust. My head throbs, a pounding ache radiating from behind my eyes.

She may have put ointment on my wounds, but that doesn’t mean my brain didn’t get knocked around, both from her strike and from hitting the floor.

I rush out the back door and find myself in a small courtyard, one that must have been used by tenants in the surrounding buildings for drying clothes and chopping wood, if the scattered items are any indication.

But my gaze locks on the doorway at the far end, the one that leads to the next street over.

Clever thief.

She must have scoped this place out and planned her escape in case she was pursued from the Ravens’ mansion. And she was, only it was me who followed her here, not the brutes Damen hired to guard the place.

She’d been afraid of me. The thought sits heavy in my gut. Her scent had been so panicked, it took everything I had not to break through those ropes and wrap her in my arms.

But I’d calmed myself, and by slow degrees, she’d relaxed too, even grown more comfortable around me.

Yet I didn’t even learn her name.

Gods, I’ve been a fool. So damn shocked over discovering she was my mate that I did nothing to make her stay.

Now I’ll have to find her before word spreads that the Ravens were robbed by a cat burglar. There can’t be that many skilled thieves in Ultrup. Her talent will single her out sooner or later.

I have to reach her first, even if I’m not yet sure what I’ll do when I catch her.

I peer through the doorway into the street, checking for any sign of pursuit from the Ravens. But there’s no one out here, not in this foul weather. It’s well past midnight, and this part of the city, at least, is asleep, with no taverns nearby to keep the residents entertained.

There’s no telling which way my mate went. I sniff the air, but she’s gone. The delicate aroma of cherries and sweet peas has been washed away by the rain and overpowered by the stench of the gutters, piss and worse things sloshing by from the neighboring buildings.

I grit my teeth and lift my gaze to the sky in a silent prayer. I found my mate—and promptly lost her again through my own stupidity. Now I’ll need all the help I can get to reach her again and protect her from the danger she’s in.

I make it to the end of the street when I stop dead, glancing over my shoulder.

The little thief led me into that courtyard for a reason, I’m almost certain of it.

I turn on my heel and run back, following my instincts.

Once there, I return to the door through which I first entered the courtyard and glance around, only this time I ignore the most obvious route: the open doorway I rushed through on my first try.

And there it is, an old lean-to, perhaps a pig pen or a chicken coop, with a low roof leading right to a yawning window.

“Damn it.”

I should have known her escape route would include climbing. It’s how she moves around this city unseen, after all.

The roof of the small structure doesn’t look strong enough to support my weight, and it’s no use anyway. If she exited onto the rooftops, I wouldn’t be able to follow. No, my task is to find the route she took to climb down, and where she went from there.

I circle around, scanning the buildings for any hint of a rope or a downspout she could have used to clamber from the roofs, but there’s nothing.

In this part of the city, the houses aren’t connected in rows like they are at the mansion we came from.

They’re shorter structures built around common courtyards like the one I just vacated, which makes jumping from roof to roof more difficult.

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I return to the building she must have entered. If she didn’t escape through the roof, she must have exited through the front door, which is…

Right here.

I stop in front of the old wooden door, and sure enough, it’s unlocked. I poke my head inside and scent her immediately. She was here not too long ago, and the ghost of her lingers in the dusty air. Cherries and sweet peas…and sugar.

I straighten, considering my memory of her.

When she’d leaned close to clean the blood off my cheek, I took deep breaths of her scent, unable to help myself.

She’d been so delicate with me, her fingers warm against my skin.

My cock had plumped up at the mere thought of having her near me, and at the time, I was glad that my cloak lay over my lap so she couldn’t see my reaction.

I didn’t want to scare her or give her any more leverage over me.

But now that I think of it, the aroma of sugar, of baking, had been layered over her scent, like icing on a cake. I’d wanted nothing more than to lick her, wondering if she’d taste sweet too, but it was her clothes and her hair that bore the sugary whiffs, not her skin.

The sugar had come from somewhere else.

Another memory flashes in my mind: the young soldier Major Strahl sent to watch me had been sitting in front of a bakery. I’d smelled something similar in the shop, the yeasty warmth emanating from the baked goods surrounding me.

A bakery, that’s what I need to find. But is it that particular establishment, or another one of the many small shops in this city?

The one I visited was just around the corner from the city watch headquarters, which has me thinking my thief would avoid it at all costs.

But nothing about her has been as expected.

I turn my back on the old building and consider my options. The fastest way to find her would be to run to my clansmen for help, but then I’d have to admit what happened. I’d have to tell them my mate is a thief, and that I lost her right after finding her.

Horror descends on me at the realization of what I’ve done. I’ve been searching for her for years, and I let her go in a matter of minutes.

No, I couldn’t admit it to my friends. Not to Marut, who hasn’t spent a day away from his mate since finding her, nor to Sarrai, who would kick my ass for being rude to a woman.