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10

ZULA

N eo’s words struck Zula to the core, because they were true. She was searching for meaning, purpose. Thieving left her with a high, a rush of feeling, a sense of invincibility, but it wasn’t enough, nor would it ever be enough. It was attractive, addictive, but gold coin was hollow, having to always watch her back was exhausting, and the fact that he’d picked up on her unhappiness with her chosen profession was unnerving. What did a mere sheriff know? Neo was smarter than she anticipated, and he saw her soul. It almost sounded like he wanted to help, and, left alone with her thoughts, she wondered if the sheriff was infatuated with her .

Zula recalled more of the moonlit night in Cloude than she pretended to remember. It had been dark, but she recalled the freckles, the way his eyes shone, how it felt when he bumped up against her, and how, for one fleeting moment, she’d thought he might lean in and kiss her—and instead of slapping him across the face for his impudence, she’d let him. But he hadn’t, and she’d pushed the soft thoughts out of her mind. In the world of thieves, there was no time for love, for stolen kisses behind closed doors or fumbling fingers upon heated skin in the velvet seduction of the night. To act on attraction was to give the other thieves an edge, an ability to exploit a weakness, and Zula preferred to stay away from relationships that would cause harm. She even counted her friendship with Issa, the scout, one of necessity, not a true friendship.

Closing her eyes against the heat, she nodded off, only waking when she heard shouts. She waited, hearing muffled conversation. The voices died away, and she was alone, listening, hating that she was caged. What if it was the royal guards, come to escort her to the palace? She felt hot, flushed, but there was no means of escape in the stall. If she wanted to run for it, she’d need to do so before the guards forced her into the carriage. Or perhaps along the road. It was unfortunate that her ukulele was broken.

She raked her mind for options. Her foot made it impossible to run, and stealing a horse would be more difficult without a head start. Would they dare to fire a crossbow at her? At the horse? Her fingers trembled as footsteps moved toward the stall, and she snatched up a water skin as the key turned in the lock. She readied herself, aiming for the guard’s head, but three of them poured in. Three guards she couldn’t hope to overpower.

They were dressed in the colors of the kingdom, yellow and green. Their uniforms looked uncomfortably hot in the heat. One cleared his throat while the other two approached. “We are to escort you to the palace for your sentencing.”

“Where’s the sheriff?” Zula asked. She felt lightheaded and faint. Was this about to happen?

“He will join you in the carriage,” one guard said. “Tie her up,” he ordered the other men.

Zula had no cards to play. One guard blocked the only means of escape while the others tied her hands together. They even put a rope around her ankles, although it was loose and she’d easily be able to take it off. She allowed them to escort her from the barn, blinking in the brilliance of daylight. Her vision went fuzzy as she made out the palm trees in the distance, the thick foliage of the jungle, the bright feathers of the birds, the distant thunder of a waterfall. The farmer’s crop of beans danced in the breeze, thick vines almost as tall as trees. Horses roamed in the pasture and by a larger barn was a royal carriage accompanied by a group of guards on horses. Zula counted ten of them before her panic intensified.

The guards all but carried her to the carriage and shut her inside. She sat on the velvet seat, frantically trying to work out a plan. Rumor had it that criminals were given brutal executions, but she wasn’t sure how much was truth or how much the stories had been embellished. How would the crown punish her? Make her swing from a tree? Chop her head off? Or take turns filling her body with crossbow bolts? She wished she’d paid more attention, but it was easy to dance on the outskirts of the kingdom, visiting villages by the water, staying far away from the center where the palace sprung from the thick of the jungle .

She knew of the royal family. All citizens did, because those who had magic in their veins ruled the kingdom. They were untouchable and no thief dared get near the palace, for to steal from the kingdom meant certain death. It would be the one heist Zula was sure she’d never escape from, and now she was headed there. It was a two-day journey, but no one could keep watch the entire time. She’d be on her best behavior, and when they least expected it, she’d vanish into the night.

The door opened and Neo joined her, sitting across from her in the small carriage. There was just enough space that if Zula kept herself small, she wouldn’t bump into Neo’s knees. He was so tall his presence seemed to take up more of the carriage than it should. Carefully turning her face away, she stared out the window as the carriage set off.

She fully expected Neo to say something witty or ask a question, but he held his silence. She snuck glances at him from time to time, but he, too, looked lost in thought, staring out the window as though he’d never seen the world before.

Then he turned and caught her staring at him. A slight smile came to his lips and she felt that familiar flutter in her lower belly.

“Nervous?” he asked.

A challenge. “Just about as nervous as you are,” Zula quipped, realizing, too late, that battling words with him wouldn’t give her any information.

Neo ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “Oh, Zula, I’m not nervous. I go to the palace often.”

“Oh.” Zula forced herself to keep talking. “Then you know the habits of the royal family.”

Neo gave her an odd look, as though he didn’t quite understand what she meant.

“I mean, the laws the royal family adheres to. What happens to . . . criminals?”

Neo leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Are you worried, Zula? Worried about what will happen to you when we arrive? What your sentence will be?”

Resisting the sudden, desperate urge to fall on her knees and beg, Zula firmly reminded herself she was the Blue-Feathered Bard. She did not beg or cry or make deals. She would not apologize for what she’d done because she wasn’t sorry. Given the chance to do it again, she’d ensure that she didn’t get caught. She tried to keep the steel in her tone as she touched her neck. “Wouldn’t you be curious if you were me?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t give the guards trouble when they came to collect you.”

“Three against one isn’t very fair.”

“I’m glad you realize it’s time to stop running. As for what to expect when we reach the palace? I assume the queen will offer you something that will allow you to escape certain death. If she does, ask for some time to consider her offer.”

Zula raised an eyebrow. “Why? It’s not like I’ll have any other attractive choices.”

Neo grinned at her. That boyish grin that completely disarmed her. “Trust me.”

His knee bumped against hers, making Zula very aware of how alone they were in a tight space. She hugged her bound wrists to herself tightly as if to keep all her anxiety inside. “You’ve done nothing to earn my trust. ”

Neo’s grin grew wider and he pressed a hand against his chest in mock pain. “You wound me with your words. I’m nothing if not the epitome of trustworthiness.”

Zula pursed her lips. “I recall running into you in the jungle, and you claimed you were lost.”

Neo’s face went red.

“If that’s not trickery, I don’t know what is. You speak of trust when you were tied up in troll territory, but you were the one who went to warn them about me.”

Neo moved closer, his leg against hers, mischief dancing in those intoxicating eyes, shades of green shifting. Zula was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the carriage. They swayed back and forth, and when Neo spoke, she almost missed it.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re angry.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “Are you flirting with me?”

She meant the words to act like a dagger, to make him lean back, move away from her, and reconsider his actions. It had the opposite effect. Neo didn’t move. The grin slipped from his face, revealing glimmers of raw desire.

“What if I am?” he said, low.

Zula desperately wished she had her ukulele to play a song to send him to sleep. Except that wouldn’t work either. Licking her dry lips, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You shouldn’t.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“It does.”

“But you like it.”

“I don’t . . . ” Her voice cracked. “It’s . . . you’re the sheriff.”

The implications of what that might mean did not seem to resonate with him, although swift disappointment crossed his face. “That’s all you see, isn’t it? All you’ll ever see.”

Unsure how to respond, Zula turned her attention to the window, where palm trees waved in the breeze as her heart squeezed.

A shout came and the road dipped, jostling her roughly. She lost her seating and was unable to catch herself with her wrists bound. Her foot jarred against the side of the carriage and she let out a cry.

Neo was there in a moment, arms around her waist, pulling her securely against him. Concern covered his face, concern she didn’t think he should have for her when he was taking her to the palace for her sentencing. But just for a moment, she saw something else flicker behind his eyes, and she recalled that moonlit night, the people dancing on the beach, the taste of ale in her mouth, the feeling that she was invincible, and the almost-kiss.

Her life was over anyway. Would it be so bad to find out if the sheriff was a good kisser? His breath was hot against her cheek. He smelled like coconuts. She should hate him. She should shove him out the carriage door while he was distracted. Instead she was lost, and it was Neo who pulled away first, his voice an urgent whisper of yearning.

“Damn it, Zula, why did you have to steal from the trolls?”