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The things I do for gold.

Wings fluttered overhead in the dimly lit cavern. I stopped short, peering into the shadows as the bats’ high-pitched chatter echoed off the walls. Clusters of glowing fungi protruded from the jagged stone, their eerie light tinted a purplish hue, and a faint, musty odor hung in the air.

“We’re going the wrong way,” I muttered, sipping water from my leather flask while keeping a wary eye on the shapeless creatures clinging to the rocky ceiling.

The first time I’d disturbed a colony of bats, it ended with me barreling out of a cave, screaming bloody murder until I tripped and landed in a filthy swamp.

I stank for days, hiking through a bug-infested jungle until I reached a village and had a proper bath.

The jeweled headpiece I’d unearthed hadn’t been worth the trouble, or the smell.

I shook my head, wincing at the memory. I may have learned to hold my ground in the years since, but the lesson still made my skin crawl.

A tickle skated up my arm, and I stifled a yelp, certain one of the vile critters had roosted on my shoulder. I opened my palm to reveal the bright beam of an enchanted moonstone and came face-to-face with my partner, Gavin, his fingers ghosting over the sleeve of my tunic.

“You’ll pay for that,” I vowed through clenched teeth.

His green gaze glinted like emeralds in the light, and his mouth hitched into a suggestive grin, laying ruin to my threat.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Mare. You know I’ll collect.”

Gavin slung his arm over my shoulder and tucked me against his side, expertly dodging the elbow I tried to jab into his ribs. The infuriating man knew my every move, and he took pleasure in it.

I was used to working alone. It was easier that way, with no one to rely on but myself.

But this treasure hunt was different. It was too dangerous to tackle solo.

When I joined this crew, I got Gavin. And much as it pained me to admit, his unshakeable presence was the only thing that had ever made me feel safe.

After all, traipsing through ruins, underground caverns, and jungles crawling with scavenging beasts was a recipe for peril. If it wasn’t quicksand, it was giant snakes, or a tomb filled with traps.

So far, the snakes hadn't shown up, but I was sure they'd arrive right on time, when you least expected it.

They always did.

Our hunting party had split up hours ago, each half searching for one of the two runes needed to open the treasure chamber. We’d found ours, but thanks to a dodgy map Gavin's latest admirer had drawn— on his back, no less—we were now lost.

Bitterness coated my tongue. We were partners, not lovers. How Gavin spent his nights was none of my business. But did the sorceress have to paint the directions on his skin? Hadn’t she ever heard of a scroll ?

My eyes squeezed shut against the visual, and I imagined instead the aggravating woman being mauled by bats. Better yet, falling into a putrid swamp.

I stifled a groan. Gavin might have poor taste in women and zero chance of finding the one , but I shouldn’t judge.

In our line of work, love was riskier than crossing a piranha-infested channel in a leaky boat.

And you never mix business with pleasure.

Especially when getting stabbed in the back over a cache of jewels wasn’t a possibility; it was a promise.

“Turn around. Let me see the map again,” I said, ducking out from under his shoulder. It figured the others would take the transcribed copy, while I got stuck with trouble dipped in ink.

Gavin braced his forearms against the cavern wall, his raven black hair curling at his nape, the ends brushing just above his collar.

I lifted the fabric of his linen shirt, slightly damp and warm from his skin, to reveal thin strokes of paint across his sculpted back.

Faded marks and old scars crisscrossed the lines, a map of their own making.

I hesitated. A single second stretching into two. Then my finger moved, a slow drag down one of the freshly drawn paths. Gavin’s muscles bunched, his shoulders jerking beneath my touch.

“Are my hands cold?”

He grunted, dropping his head so the rumble of his voice got lost between his chest and the stone. Something twisted in my gut from the deep, muffled tone, and I forced myself to focus on the map.

I cleared my throat, annoyance washing away my restlessness as I squinted at the blurred lines.

“ Ugh! This is why we don’t let flirty sorceresses try their hand at cartography. The paint is smudged. Seriously, Gavin, did you agree to this before or after she charmed you out of your clothes?”

“I told you. Nothing happened between me and… Esmeralda? No. That’s not it. Maybe it was Elspeth? Elana?” He scratched his head. “Pretty sure her name started with an E.”

I pinched his shoulder blade until he hissed through his teeth. “You’re lucky you didn’t say the wrong name during your—” I shuddered, channeling the bat-mauling image. “amorous encounter, or whatever you want to call it.”

“It wasn’t amorous. It was transactional. Coins for coordinates. That was all. It’s not my fault the witch fancies herself a painter. Besides, that name thing only happened once. The memory still haunts me.”

Gavin mumbled the last part under his breath.

“It should haunt you! I’d run you through with a rusty dagger dipped in snake venom if you said another woman’s name while you were in bed with me.”

Gavin tensed, his entire body going rigid beneath my hand. A flush warmed my neck at the visual I’d painted. My imagination filled in the rest: a rustle of sheets, his breath against my skin, the low rasp of his voice. All far more mesmerizing than any brushstroke.

Overhead, the bats rustled as if sensing the static sparking between us. Gavin’s silence made me squirm, and I wished I could take my words back. Not the rusty dagger part, I’d done worse for less, but the insinuation that a whispered word from him in the dark could make me that vulnerable.

“Just read the map, Mare,” Gavin said, the gravel in his voice sucking all the air from the cavern.

Steadying my hand, I tried to follow the path we’d already traveled, not the one leading my mind toward temptation.

This time, I was careful to stay above the exposed expanse of his skin until I found the location marker.

Heaving a sigh, I pressed my finger into the symbol, adding another smudge to the map.

“See! I knew we were supposed to take a left at the Pillar of Peril. We should have reached the Rope Bridge of Ruin by now.”

Gavin kicked his boot into the wall, releasing a spray of tiny stones. “Who named these landmarks? Just once, I want to be on a treasure hunt with happier guideposts.”

I lowered his shirt and rubbed my fingers through the folds of my tunic to remove any lingering paint. “Like a Maze of Merriment leading to a Tomb of Tranquility?”

“Exactly. If I slip off the rope bridge, I'd rather land in a soothing hot spring and not a pit filled with sharpened spikes. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

My lips twitched. “If you got your wish, we’d never find any treasure. You’d be too busy luxuriating in a pool of bath water.”

Gavin winked as his playful grin slipped back into place. Like it always did. He was a thief through and through—gold, hearts, whatever he could get his hands on—and his roguish demeanor was as reliable as the tides.

“What can I say? I’m a man of simple pleasures. And when steaming pools of crystal clear water are involved, you’re always welcome to join me.”

“I think I prefer the spikes.”

I brushed past him with a withering glare meant to deflate his ego. But as I lifted the enchanted moonstone to light the way, the rich sound of his laughter echoed in my ears .

Gavin's teasing was getting harder to resist. And worse, sometimes, I didn't want to. But I'd fallen for charm before.

The last man I'd let get too close had stolen my relic in the middle of the night, and had the nerve to swipe my food rations too. And the one before that? Total con. Used me for my map and my bedroll, then vanished the second he found the ruin.

So no more treasure hunters for me.

Any body built like a temple, I'd admire from afar.

And my hunting motto? Keep my relics close and my heart closed off.

But that didn't mean I wasn't tempted. Especially with a wisecracking adventurer attached to my hip who took my temple metaphor as a personal challenge—and who made me miss things I'd sworn off wanting.

We retraced our steps through the narrow tunnel until we reached a rocky pillar engraved with an ominous inscription: Peril to all who pass.

“I guess we go left,” I said, scanning the column for any other markings, maybe a clue to the aforementioned peril.

The tan stone felt gritty beneath my hand, and tiny flecks of quartz sparkled faintly embedded in the rock.

I tilted the light, watching the shadows play over the weathered grooves.

There were no other engravings. And if there was a warning, it wasn’t written in stone.

Which was too bad. We could use all the help we could get.

Our crew had already lost too much time on this hunt, and we weren’t the only ones searching for the fabled treasure. Every distant creak or whisper of sound had me looking over my shoulder, convinced marauders were on our heels.

They were the vultures of the trade; scavengers who picked the treasure troves clean while feasting on death and destruction. So far, we’d evaded their pursuit, losing a band of them inside the vast cave network, but another delay or a simple mistake would put us right in their path.

And I needed this prize.

This wasn’t just any treasure. It was Incantus, a golden chest containing a vial rumored to be the key to immortality, and our benefactor was paying a fortune for us to find it.

The treasure was considered a myth, yet here we were, after traveling through foreign kingdoms and treacherous landscapes for nearly a year.

I pressed a hand to the top of my neck, massaging the ache that had spread deep into my shoulders.

A whole year on the road. Another year, I haven’t kept my promise. My father’s last words echoed in my mind: Our home is our legacy. Promise me you’ll get it back.

But promises didn’t pay debts. Gold did.

When my home was stripped away, it was the first time in my life I'd had nothing except for the clothes on my back.

My mother had died years earlier after a long illness, so by then, it was just my father and me.

We scraped by as best we could. But in the end, it wasn't enough.

I lost him, and I found myself alone, broke, and clinging to a life that no longer existed.

My world had crumbled, and the cliffside manor my family had called home for generations crumbled too, swallowed by vines and clouded by sea salt.

Before he died, my father arranged to keep the land in our name so long as we repaid the debt in full by the tenth year. But with only small jobs and lecherous employers, that would have been impossible.

Then I met her. An old woman who ran a market stall selling rare artifacts and relics. She took pity on me and handed me a map, offering to pay handsomely for what I found.

So I turned my attention to the far more lucrative trade of finding lost things.

Each successful hunt brought me a step closer to reclaiming my home.

And now, when we found Incantus, I’d finally have enough to pay off the last of the debt and keep my promise.

I could stop chasing shadows, foolishly expecting to find love and stability in a place where they didn’t exist.

Because if I kept trying, my heart might crack.

Or worse, I’d wind up dead.

I pushed the heavy thoughts away and followed Gavin through the narrowing tunnel.

Shadows flickered against the wall. The ceiling dropped low, forcing us to hunch and twist our bodies through a tight gap.

I ducked beneath a jagged overhang, my breath catching as my pack scraped the stone with a dry rasp.

Cold air funneled through the passage, driving us deeper into the cave.

Gavin stretched his hand back, slowing me as we reached a steep ledge. A decaying bridge spanned the chasm, its ropes frayed and sagging in a loose arc. Rotted boards jutted between the lines like wooden teeth, ready to spill from the bridge's jaw.

We'd found the peril, and the only thing missing to round out this dreaded treasure hunter's nightmare was the bats. But I bet even they wouldn't touch that bridge.

And we were the reckless fools about to cross it.