Chapter sixteen - Time to trap a thief

"I didn't see you at supper." Lorcan takes two strides and our chests almost touch. His leather against the soft linen tunic of mine. "Where did you go?"

As always, he is so observant.

"I was picking up wood," I lie. He lifts a brow.

"Wood?"

"Yes."

Narrowing his eyes, he glances down at my empty hands. "And where is that wood right now?"

I give him a long look, likely unblinking. If I weren't so caught off guard, I could have made up a better lie than wood. "I couldn't find the right type." I hold my head high. "Carving requires special wood most of the time, now if you'll excuse me—"

"You carve?" He asks, ignoring how I was preparing to push past him.

"Yes." I square my shoulders. "Does that surprise you?"

Something flickers in his eyes before moving his gaze elsewhere. "No, not at all." He clears his throat, and that unknown flicker is gone once he looks at me again. "What do you like to carve?"

Despite a question not many asked, my body relaxes, and I lean back onto the wall. "Everything," I breathe a wistful sigh. "I like knowing I made something, be it small or grand."

“And have you carved anything since your arrival here?”

“Yes,” I say. “Flowers for Freya on her chest of drawers and—” I conceal my smile. “The marigold tree on mine, the one just at the center of the city. I thought it was beautiful from the moment I first saw it.”

It's quiet while Lorcan's stare remains as if he can't decipher what it is with me, with us. "You are so... intriguing."

There's that word again. "Intriguing because I carve wood?"

"Intriguing above all," he amends, taking another step where his cedar and spice scent mixes between us.

I straighten, but my neck begins burning. "You've said how intriguing I am twice now."

"I guess I have," he says to the point that if we weren't this close, I wouldn't have heard him. It's hard not to focus on his eyes, now like emeralds shining among the sconces or the russet strands falling over his brows.

"So, do you use knives or other tools to carve?" His voice is still quiet... deep.

"I have—I have a set. Whittling knives, chisels for bigger woodwork, but um—" I unsheathe the blade from my waist, lifting it between us as a barrier, but he doesn't step back. "—This dagger is one I've always used to carve smaller objects."

He laughs through his nose, staring at it and then me. "You look like you're ready to stab me with it than carve."

Well, I have tried to stab with it before.

I shake my head. Words don't seem to fall from my lips as his hand lowers the dagger to the side for me and doesn't make any plans to let go of my fist. I feel every bump, every uneven surface of his skin from the scars on his palm and fingers, shortening my breath with each swirl of his thumb against my knuckles.

"Run out of ways to answer me back, Nara?" He murmurs, deepening his gaze. I scowl.

"I didn't see the need to answer back at a foolish remark."

He chuckles, smoothing the hard lines I always see when he's out during training, the laidback stance that people rarely witness. "Have you always been one to talk back to superiors?"

"You don't seem to mind it."

His other hand comes to my waist, and I almost gasp at the touch... almost. "I don't mind when it's from a particular adventurous blonde."

A sensation flares in my chest as his gaze roams over my face and at my fuller curves. "Deputy," I warn, and his eyes snap up.

"Miss Ambrose," he retorts with a faint smile.

"Would you want a repeat of that night?" I raise a brow since the day I'd stormed out of his chambers is a memory that doesn't stop coming up.

He shakes his head. "Most certainly not."

"Then good, glad we can agree on—" I say before I'm stopped as Lorcan's head whips to the side and swears under his breath.

I don't see anything for a few seconds. Then I realize why Lorcan is moving away from me.

The General, along with a few other Venators, come into sight, muttering to one another as they walk down the hall.

I look to Lorcan, wanting to ask how on earth he knew they were coming but the frustration emitting off him suggests not to.

"Deputy." The General inclines his head as he comes to a halt along with the rest. There's something so malignant in his gaze as he runs an eye over me. "I hope we haven't interrupted anything."

Lorcan doesn't look at me, acts like I'm not there, so stepping up, I tell them, "I was just leaving." Despite how fond I am of riling up the General, I don't think I'm prepared to do so after the arena and Leira.

The General tilts his head as two other Venators dressed in their leather armory stare me down, and like a stupid girl, I wait for Lorcan to acknowledge me.

He does not even flinch.

Bowing my head, I whirl around and don't bother to look back just as I turn the corner. I'm not that far out of reach when I hear the general say with a sigh, "Do we need to have another talk?"

I falter my steps. It's the first time the General sounds... fatherly. Freya had told me he acted more as a father figure to Lorcan than her. Perhaps this was one of those moments that he is showing that side.

Whatever the situation is between them all, I was still not fond of the treatment he gave to Freya, and as Lorcan mumbles something incoherent to the General, I hurry my footsteps again.

***

By midmorning the following day, I'd gotten up before the heady sun rose. I trained until Link could no longer stand my constant adrenaline, and then I explored the city once more. Passing academies where priestesses taught children, entering the clothing stores I couldn't afford, and lastly, a library in Salus district that if Idris were here, he’d adore it.

The building has but just a few people roaming by the tall ancient shelves, smears of vibrant orange paints brighten the stone pillars in every corner, and with just one single floor, the room stretches out far and wide. At first, I set out for generalized books, letting my fingers glide among the wooden edges... The light streaming through dozens of long windows, but as if a beam focuses on a particular book, I come across one to do with the history of Zerathion.

Leira's words are still fresh in my mind, and I'd not stopped thinking about it the entire night. I thought of going back there, but I wasn't sure the outcome would benefit me. I'd soon enough rush out of there again at the mention of my father.

And while I tried desperately to forget about him and what she'd said, I'd toss in my bed and think of the Rivernorth bloodline instead.

Tragic for a reign to fall and have no one remember the legacy. But I suppose there's a reason to it, and shifters who still live since then are likely to know.

I wonder if the Golden Thief is one of them.

Sighing, I grab the book. Worn and used, I flick through the pages and paintings depicting different variations of Solaris and Crello. No one knew what they looked like. Some imagined two specks of light; others agreed that they were exactly the sun and moon. While my mother used to think it was two goddesses.

She would tell me the tales of how Solaris and Crello spent so long wanting to share time and space. That as twilight fell, dawn would wait, stealing glances at one another, wishing and yearning. And when they finally joined, life, power, death became their creation.

"So not only does she threaten people, but she also likes to read."

I snap the book closed, glancing up at Rydan's childish grin.

"Every day, I'm learning more about you, Ambrose," he muses, folding his arms as he leans against the shelf.

"Have you been spying on me?" I attempt not to raise my voice as a frown stiffens my face.

"Of course not. Who do you think I am?" He asks, taking offense, but before I can answer how that is precisely what I imagine him to do, he says, "Look, I wanted to beat this man who is an all-time champion drinker of the flame spewers, and then I saw you enter the library which to me was suspicious."

I make a face, holding the book to my chest. "You thought me entering a library... was suspicious?"

"Well, you constantly have this murderous charm to you that perhaps you were on your way to slaughter someone in here."

I take a deep breath, utterly done with him already. "Maybe I was."

He lowers his arms, moving closer with such eagerness. "Really? Who?"

"A prat named Rydan Alderis. I lured him in here on purpose, and now I have him right where I want him to be."

His brows wriggle together, looking down at the spot he's standing in, then all the bookshelves, and lastly, the ceiling. "I see no trap that will kill me."

"I do wonder how you've managed to survive this long as a trainee," I say, shaking my head slowly with such disbelief.

He shrugs, waving a lazy hand. "Dragons fear me, and Lorcy adores me too much, that's why."

"Clearly." The constant avoidances from Lorcan prove that perfectly.

"You know Ambrose, there’s another reason I came here. I actually have a confession to make."

I quirk a brow, hoping the sudden sigh and shake of his head doesn’t mean he will tell me a confession that’s relatively Rydan-ish.

Placing a hand to his chest he starts, "I feel that you and I have this deep level connection that not even Solaris and Crello could have. It's like you are the cheese to my grape, the—" He slows his words down as his gaze wanders to someone waltzing past us, disappearing into the next set of shelves. "Pie to my—"

"Were you checking that man out while telling me how much of a connection we have?" I ask, quelling my smile.

"I did say I'm a great multitasker." A proud smile drifts over his face. "Does it make you want me?"

"No, it makes me want to hit you."

He purses his lips thoughtfully. "Everyone always says that to me."

The urge not to roll my eyes proves difficult but one that I forget when whispers on the other side of us and the name Golden Thief brings me to shift on the spot.

"Have you ever thought what It'd be like to spend the night with him?" A woman's voice says. "I heard he's stunning."

My nose scrunches in disgust, much to Rydan's confusion, before the friend gasps and I hear the patting of clothes as if she hit her. "He's a criminal and a dragon shifter Lillian, how can you think of such things?"

"Oh, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought it before! I for one never cared for what he is. A wanted criminal makes it all the more thrilling, and besides I heard crystals allure him." Lillian's voice lowers enough to sound sultry. I pray I don't gag at whatever else she has to say. "Perhaps I could tempt him with some on my brea—"

"Solaris, save you," The other sighs, ironically saving me before both erupt into obnoxious giggles.

"Who are we eavesdropping on?" Rydan leans in, his eyes shining in excitement.

"No one," I deadpan, pushing his face back as I place the book on top of the shelf.

Rydan rubs at his nose as Lillian and her friend doesn't speak another word. Their footsteps hollow, drifting further away.

Hearing her swoon over the Golden Thief makes me wonder if some thought him different or harmless. Many might have tried to capture the Golden Thief, maybe even attempted with golds and all sorts of precious jewels for him.

But I'm still intent on what Ivarron had tasked me to do. I just needed to lure the Golden Thief into a trap myself and as a previous trapper, I was known to be good at that.

"Why do you look like you are planning something?" Rydan inquires over my frown.

I smooth out my features and smile. "That's because I'm still planning on ways to kill you." And how it is time I put my skills in trapping on an insolent thief.