Poison Dance (Midnight Thief #0.5)

The three of them moved closer together. As Bacchus pulled their table in front of them to make a partial barricade, James took a quick inventory. Ten men, all loyal to Gerred. There was no way they could fight their way out unscathed. Though the idea of negotiating with Gerred turned his stomach, they had to consider it.

“What do you want from us?” he asked Gerred.

“I want you out of the way.” He was smug, now that he had the upper hand.

James gritted his teeth. “That’s what you would have gotten, Gerred. I told you, we’re leaving.”

Gerred’s expression hardened. “No more lies, James. I’ve had enough trouble from you.” The circle around them tightened.

“Think, Gerred. Do you really want it to come to this?” James said quickly. “You know we won’t die easily. This could be a costly fight for you, and a pointless one, if we’re telling the truth.”

“And I suppose you want me to take you at your word.”

“Let the lass go,” said James. “The four of us will leave the city tonight. No lives lost. You can march us out the gate if you want.” Next to him, Bacchus gave James an incredulous look, but James ignored him.

Gerred narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t give the order to attack. James waited, desperately hoping that Gerred’s pride wouldn’t override his usual caution.

Finally, Gerred spat on the ground. “You leave now. If we see you back in Forge, we kill you on sight.”

“Rand? Bacchus?” James said without taking his eyes off Gerred’s men.

There was a long silence. “Fine,” growled Rand. Next to him, Bacchus made a sound that James decided to take as assent. He looked to Thalia. There was a blazing look in her eyes that he couldn’t interpret.

Gerred nodded to his men, and the circle widened a half step. James stepped slowly forward, his blade in his hand, every muscle tense. “Release the lass too.”

Slowly, Gerred loosened his grip. Thalia took one step forward, then another. Her eyes locked on James, and they were filled with regret.

“Thalia—” he said.

Before he finished saying her name, the girl spun on her heel and ran for Lord Hamel. The first bodyguard to block her way fell back, clutching at his face as a knife flashed in Thalia’s hand. She was turning again to Hamel when the second bodyguard grabbed her hair, pulled her backwards, and thrust a knife between her shoulder blades. Thalia gasped and sank to the floor, her eyes fixed on Hamel’s face. The nobleman stared back and wiped off his arm where her blood had splattered.

Bacchus acted first, grabbing the lamp off the table and throwing its contents at one group of assassins as he kicked the table toward the others. The oil caught fire as it fell and spread across the floor. As assassins batted out flames and Gerred yelled orders, James sprang around the fire toward Hamel. The nobleman’s bodyguards closed protectively around him, but James dropped to a crouch in front of Thalia. She was pale and gasping, with blood spurting through her knife wound.

“Come on, James,” Rand yelled, dragging him to his feet. Rand reached to pick up Thalia, but James pushed him aside and scooped her up himself. Bacchus waved them out the door and guarded their retreat, knife raised in a menacing crouch as he backed out last.

No one pursued them. There were shouts of Red Shields, so perhaps Gerred’s crew had scattered rather than risk capture. When it was clear they weren’t being followed, James laid Thalia on the ground. The bleeding had slowed. She was in shock, though when she looked at James, her eyes took a momentary focus. Her lips moved, and James leaned closer to hear.

“Kill him for me,” she said.

And then she was too weak to say anything else.





Chapter Seven





ALVIE waited in the shadow of his wagon train, arms folded across his chest. Today was one of those days when he felt the weight of his years. His back ached from setting up camp, and everything felt heavy.

He hadn’t been surprised by the news when it came through the rumor mills. Everyone who’d known Thalia had been preparing to hear it for a while. The girl had been headstrong and fiercely loyal to her sister. These were characteristics one couldn’t afford to indulge when dealing with people like Hamel.

There was a rustle in the trees, and the young assassin came around a wagon. He was vigilant as he came into the circle, his eyes sweeping in all directions. Alvie imagined that James looked more tired than when they’d last met. His eyes were colder.

The assassin didn’t waste time on niceties. “You’ve heard by now?” he asked.

“Enough,” said Alvie. “I’ll relay the news to her home caravan. Let them claim their right to avenge her, if they so choose.”

“They didn’t avenge her sister,” James said. There might have been a hint of disdain in his voice.

“True,” Alvie conceded. “But don’t blame them for Thalia’s death. They loved the girls like their own daughters, and their decision not to go up against one of Forge’s top noblemen does not diminish that.”

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