Page 23

Adelaide

T he carriage shuddered to a stop in front of the inn. Adelaide took a moment to compose herself before following Sir Maxwell out the door. She accepted the hand he offered her in the hopes it would offer her some stability. All she got from the gesture was a shock of cold. His skin was like ice, so unlike Gavin’s touch. She wondered if it had to do with his specific type of magic—whatever that was.

“It will all be over soon, Adelaide. Try not to let your worries get to you. You need to have a clear mind right now, understand?”

Adelaide nodded. “I’m trying my best.”

She looked up at the darkened inn. Acid rose in her throat as a result. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the knowledge of what was awaiting her here tonight, or the knowledge that Dylan had been killed by Mistress Scrabs and her family could be next.

The subtlety of Mistress Scrabs’s threats were a lot like her magic. By the time the threat was realized, it was too late. Mistress Scrabs had likely carried out the consequence she’d promised—or worse: she’d gotten hold of you.

Adelaide suppressed a shudder. She just needed to stay out of her reach and then she’d be fine. And to help Gavin save her family from whatever forces Mistress Scrabs and the prince had sent to her home, Adelaide had to stall as long as she possibly could. She set her jaw. She could do this.

She had to do this, for all their sakes.

Sir Maxwell led the way through the inn with his head held high. He didn’t even have a sword or dagger with him. But Adelaide did, and she was grateful for it. She reached for the dagger’s hilt to ensure it hadn’t slipped from its sheath as Sir Maxwell opened the cellar door. Adelaide hissed.

How had the hilt gotten even hotter? She hadn’t even been holding it, and even if she had, it wouldn’t have been so warm as to burn her fingertips.

Sir Maxwell glanced back at her with his brows raised in question.

“Found a splinter,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

His eyes swept over her skeptically before he ultimately turned away and started down the staircase. Adelaide let out a silent sigh of relief. The dagger sheathed to her side became a constant weight on her conscious mind. She couldn’t help it as she found her body trying to twist away from it, fixated on the scalding heat of the hilt.

Again, Adelaide found herself wondering if it had something to do with the magic her brother had said was imbued in it. Or had she reached the point when her wits had finally abandoned her?

Adelaide took deep, steady breaths through her nose. Her temples pounded. It took every ounce of her willpower to trail after Sir Maxwell. Each step brought her deeper into the inn’s underbelly and closer to her certain doom.

If they really had to hand the Eye of Behelwer into Mistress Scrabs’s possession, Adelaide would never forgive herself. But at the same time, how could she stand before herself in a mirror knowing she’d sacrificed her family?

No matter what choice she made, Adelaide knew she would lose.

Sir Maxwell stopped short. Adelaide nearly tripped over her own feet in order to avoid crashing into him.

“Perhaps you’d better go first.”

Adelaide gaped. “What if she asks for the Eye straight away?”

“Don’t worry.”

“I am, though,” she sputtered. Adelaide fought to keep her voice down, but the hysteria seeping into her veins made it nearly impossible.

“Adelaide,” Sir Maxwell said quietly, turning to face her and grasping her shoulders lightly. “I’m right behind you, okay? Your family will be fine. Gavin will make sure they’re safe.”

She nodded, unconvinced their plans would prove successful despite his earnestness. “Okay.”

Nodding for her to go ahead, he smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Besides, they know you. If I go first, it might make them defensive. It’s best not to antagonize them for now.”

Adelaide swallowed. Admittedly, she knew he was right. It didn’t stop the twist of fear from writhing in her gut. She doubted there was any amount of sound reasoning that could. She didn’t know what she should do, or what Sir Maxwell was expecting her to do. Adelaide didn’t think she could introduce him like she normally would, but neither Sir Maxwell nor Mistress Scrabs had given her any better option.

She bobbed her head firmly. Taking a step forward, Adelaide mentally prepared herself for the oncoming confrontation. Her hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug harshly into her palms. Adelaide hoped she didn’t break the skin. Knowing she had little choice in the night’s events, Adelaide straightened her shoulders and tried to appear as though nothing was amiss, even though her heart knew nothing was right.

The more she considered him, the more she realized how Sir Maxwell seemed detached, a fact Adelaide wished she’d realized sooner. What she had mistaken for calm was actually aloofness.

Sir Maxwell must’ve been someone who withdrew when he was nervous. Adelaide wanted to curse herself for not realizing it sooner. Maybe then she wouldn’t have found herself stepping into the bear’s den with nothing but a dagger to protect herself.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d return, Addie.” Mistress Scrabs stood from the chair they’d obviously brought down from Dylan’s office and brushed her pants off. Adelaide’s eyes surveyed the little room cordoned off by the crates and barrels piled in the cellar.

Where was Prince Branigan?

“Did you succeed?”

Adelaide struggled to swallow against the rock in her throat. She forced herself to look at Mistress Scrabs. Perhaps it was a good thing she didn’t see the Darshovian prince. That was one less person to fight and put the odds of surviving in her favor.

It also made it easier to believe that the Eye of Behelwer wouldn’t find its way into Mistress Scrabs’s hands.

But his absence also grated on her heart. Had he gone out to do something horrible? Had she sent him after her family too, and not just his men?

“I…” Adelaide’s mind spun. She needed to tread carefully, but her mind refused to work and put words together. There wasn’t any safe way to phrase this, so she didn’t hesitate a second longer. “I came with someone who claims to have the Eye.”

“Oh? And who might that be?” The Master of Thieves narrowed her eyes. Static crackled in the air between them. The hair on the back of Adelaide’s neck raised. It took all of her willpower not to take a step backward.

Adelaide squared her shoulders and cast a brief glance behind her. “Sir Maxwell?”

Mistress Scrabs’s eyes sparkled as Sir Maxwell stepped into the light of her cellar hideaway. She slowly stood from her makeshift desk. Adelaide’s eyes flitted between them, trying to gauge each of their reactions. Sir Maxwell’s lips had pressed into a grim line.

“Well, isn’t this something?” Mistress Scrabs said, her voice dipping into an almost sultry tone that made Adelaide frown. How was she remaining calm? “Tell me, Sir William, does Kordouva’s precious White Hawk know you’re here?”

“He does,” Sir Maxwell said. Adelaide eyed him, catching the way his jaw twitched.

“What a pity,” Mistress Scrabs huffed, leaning against the crate she’d been using as a desk and crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I suppose we’ll have to deal with the archduke separately.”

Adelaide’s heart clenched. She clamped her lips together in an effort to stop the cry she could feel bubbling up in her chest from escaping. She needed Mistress Scrabs to believe her love for Gavin had been nothing more than a facade.

“And do you have what I want then?” Mistress Scrabs asked.

Silently, Sir Maxwell reached into his cloak and withdrew a wrapped bundle from within its folds. Adelaide held her breath. That couldn’t really be it, could it? Had Sir Maxwell and Gavin been so foolish as to actually allow the Eye of Behelwer to leave the safety of Castle Belmont’s vault? Adelaide watched in abject horror as Sir Maxwell unwrapped the small packet and revealed the legendary red-orange sunstone.

It was a clone. It had to be, right? For whatever reason, Adelaide couldn’t wholly convince herself. The unease in her gut began to simmer. Bells rang between her ears like a warning toll.

Without a moment to reconsider, Adelaide harshly wrapped her hand around Sir Maxwell’s arm, stopping his advance toward Mistress Scrabs.

“No.”

Mistress Scrabs quirked her brow.

“No?” Mistress Scrabs asked, a cold edge to the lilt in her voice. The crackling returned as shocks of lightning popped in the air around Mistress Scrabs like fireflies. “Why, Adelaide, dear, I must say I’m surprised. I would have thought you wanted to ensure your family’s safety.”

She did.

But she couldn’t. Not like this. She just had to trust that Gavin hadn’t lied to her, that he was with her family at this very moment, had found the missing prince, and that the Master of Thieves had posed an empty threat, trusting in Adelaide’s submission after years of being burned by her cruelty.

Adelaide slowly took the Eye into her hand. “I do. I want to see them first—to know they’re safe. Then you can have the Eye.”

Mistress Scrabs’s smirk was too sharp. Adelaide didn’t know whether or not she was alive, or if her heart had stopped beating. A sheen of cold sweat trickled down her spine, the only thing she could feel through the numbness that had consumed her.

“I see,” Mistress Scrabs said slowly. “You’ve learned quite a lot in your years of service to me.” Adelaide forced herself not to move as Mistress Scrabs took a measured step toward her. “But it wasn’t enough, Addie.”

Adelaide flinched. The pommel of her dagger poked her side. The heat of the metal burned her skin on contact where her shirt had ridden up. She sucked in a breath, unable to focus on one singular thing. What did Mistress Scrabs mean?

Adelaide stiffened when the Master of Thieves reached into her waistcoat pocket and pulled a familiar vial from within. “But there’s one more lesson I think you should do well to learn.” She held the vial of medication up teasingly. “Always have a contingency plan. People are so troublesome to manage, always thinking they know more, or can force the upper hand. You’ve never had it, dear Addie. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

Adelaide held her breath. She glanced from Mistress Scrabs to the medication in her hand and back again. But Mistress Scrabs wasn’t looking at her.

No, she was looking at Sir Maxwell.

“I believe this is yours, Sir Maxwell.” Mistress Scrabs’s words sent a chill down Adelaide’s spine. “I think you can handle one thief, can’t you? That is, if you want the cure for your lovely wife.”

Adelaide turned to Sir Maxwell only to see that he was already facing her. His eyes shone with regret. “I’m sorry, Adelaide.”

“What? Why?” she asked, taking a step away. She bumped into the crates beside her and stumbled. Sir Maxwell caught her by the wrist and attempted to pry the Eye from her hand. Her free hand formed a fist. Adelaide swung blindly, just barely catching his chin. Sir Maxwell’s head knocked to the side. He didn’t let go. Adelaide cried out. The hilt of the dagger had turned scalding, prodding at her side now that Sir Maxwell had her pinned against the stack of wooden crates as he tried to wrestle the Eye from her clutching fingers. She reached for the clasp of the belt that held the sheath and fumbled to undo it, hoping to rid herself of the scalding metal. “You bastard!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the dagger cooled. Adelaide nearly sighed at the relief, but couldn’t as Sir Maxwell had finally succeeded in wresting the Eye of Behelwer from her hand.

“Why?” she asked desperately. She grabbed his shoulder to keep him from turning away from her. “Why do this when you fought so hard to save Kordouva?”

Sir Maxwell didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s my wife,” he said quietly. “She has severillik, and there was no other way to get her the medication. I…I can’t live without her.”

Adelaide’s heart wrenched. Hadn’t she done the same thing for her mother? Hadn’t Mistress Scrabs preyed on her desperation too?

“You don’t need them to get you the medicine,” she argued. “We can figure somethi—”

“This is the price Sir Maxwell agreed to pay, Adelaide,” Mistress Scrabs interrupted coolly, her tone light and factual. Everything was a transaction, a business dealing in which she stood to benefit, no matter the cost to anyone else. Adelaide’s blood boiled. She’d had enough of Mistress Scrabs and the fear incited with precise words and delicate strategy. “So let him pay it. Or do you want to be responsible for his wife’s death as well?”

Adelaide looked pleadingly at Sir Maxwell. Slowly, she reached for the hilt of her dagger. “Don’t give her the Eye.”

“I have to,” Sir Maxwell muttered. “I hope you understand why. I can’t…Evelynn is my everything.”

Adelaide nodded. “Then I hope you understand why I can’t let you.”

As confusion settled on Sir Maxwell’s face, Adelaide thrust the dagger forward, uncertain of where she was stabbing. She didn’t want to seriously hurt Sir Maxwell, but she couldn’t let him hand the Eye of Behelwer to Mistress Scrabs and damn them all.

Sir Maxwell grunted. He instantly released Adelaide, grasping the hilt. Adelaide’s fingers slipped from beneath his. Acid burned her throat. Mistress Scrabs’s shouted words were lost to her comprehension. All Adelaide understood was the stark shock and pain and betrayal glistening in Sir Maxwell’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she gushed. As the weight of what she’d done slammed into her, Adelaide stooped and picked the Eye up from where it had fallen between them. Taking a harried breath, she fled.

Haphazardly weaving through the maze made by the stacks of crates and groupings of barrels, Adelaide didn’t look back, terrified of what she might see and sickened by the warm, tacky feeling of the blood on her hand.

Her breaths tore in and out of her.

“Adelaide!” Mistress Scrabs’s voice had turned shrill. “Come back this instant!”

Nearly delirious, Adelaide almost huffed a laugh. She’d finally stood up against Mistress Scrabs, a fact neither of them had truly foreseen. And by the sound of her voice, of the crack in her words, Mistress Scrabs knew her control had slipped.

Static fizzled over Adelaide. Her skin buzzed as the current of Mistress Scrabs’s magic flooded the air. But as long as she wasn’t touching her, Adelaide knew she’d survive. She could ignore the static.

All she had to do was stay out of the woman’s reach—and pray the range of her magic hadn’t gotten stronger since the last time someone had tried to run from the Master of Thieves.

Adelaide flinched at the bang that echoed from above.

Her heart skipped a beat as she rounded the last of the stored goods and saw the staircase before her.

But her relief was short-lived as the prince stepped into the doorway.

The moment their eyes locked, Adelaide knew there was no escape. He knew what she had done. A shadow bloomed behind the prince, blotting out the light of the tavern above. The inky mass spilled down the stairs as Adelaide watched with wide eyes.

Not wasting a beat as he began to run down the stairs, Adelaide turned and flung herself behind a stack of crates.

Adelaide’s heart sank. Mistress Scrabs had gained on her. Her nerves began to twitch against their own volition as the electric current grew stronger.

Adelaide darted between another set of crates and barrels. She doubled back to the stairs, hoping the prince had lost sight of her and run past.

“ADELAIDE!”

Her heartbeat quickened. Gavin? Boots thudded overhead. Adelaide could vaguely make out the clatter of armor-laden movements and low voices. She shoved the Eye of Behelwer down her bodice.

“I’m here!” she called out breathlessly. “The cellar!”

Relief wove its way through her veins at the promise of his arrival. Running as fast as she could, Adelaide emerged onto a clear path. Her heart swelled with hope at the sight of the stairs once more, giving her a burst of energy that she hoped would help her reach safety. Adelaide could see the shadows creeping closer to her in her peripheral vision. Drawing near enough to the stairs, Adelaide flung herself toward them in desperation.

“Ugh,” she groaned. A forceful weight slammed into her, jarring her bones. She turned her head as much as she could, sprawled out on her stomach and pinned to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Adelaide recognized the Darshovian prince. Splinters snagged at her clothes, poking through and catching on her skin. Adelaide threw her elbow back, hoping to connect with the prince’s head.

He must’ve dodged the blow, as all Adelaide got for her effort was the feeling she’d dislocated her shoulder blade.

“The Eye. Where is it?” he asked harshly, sitting atop her and grabbing her wrist.

Adelaide tried to blow her hair away from her face. The Eye poked painfully at the space between her breasts. Footsteps pounded down the stairwell. “You’ll have to kill me to find it.”

“Fine by me,” he growled.

“But not by me.”

Adelaide glanced up in time to see Gavin emerge in the cellar doorway. His armor gleamed in the light flooding down the stairs from the tavern above. Her eyes went wide at the power amassing in front of his outstretched hand. Belmont knights vaulted themselves over the banister and rushed forward.

Adelaide pressed herself closer to the floor and put her head down, doing her best to make herself smaller.

The Darshovian prince swore. His weight disappeared. A wave of heat soared over Adelaide’s back, but not close enough to burn. Adelaide tried to ease the shuddering of her breath. Her throat burned. Panic rose up inside of her, eager to burst free. The assault of metal clashing against metal filled her ears. She refused to look up or move from her spot. She doubted she could even if she’d tried. Her limbs were anchored to the floor.

“Adelaide!” Gavin’s breathless voice broke through the chaos. “Get up. We have to move.”

A strong hand gripped her, pulling her up. Adelaide raised her fist. She blinked. “Gavin!”

She nearly jumped on top of him. He brushed her off, taking a firm hold of her hand and yanking her forward, pushing her toward the stairs as knights swarmed around them. “We don’t have time. I have to get you to safety.”

Adelaide nodded, her tongue too numb to speak. Her memory sparked. “Sir Maxwell,” she tried, desperately forcing the words past her lips. With one final push, they emerged upstairs. Stumbling into the tavern with Gavin close behind her, Adelaide cleared her throat and turned her head to look at Gavin over her shoulder. Worry flooded her veins. His dull eyes were unfocused as he pushed her farther into the room. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he panted, his lips twisted in a grimace. “Just keep going, Adelaide. You’ll be safe outside.”

Adelaide shook her head. “Sir Maxwell betrayed you. Mistress Scrabs promised to give him the medication if he gave her the Eye.”

Gavin’s brows pulled together. “Where is he now?”

Adelaide pressed her lips together. She wrung her hands together. “I…stabbed him.”