Page 3 of Garlands and Gauntlets

I hesitate, the warning bells in my head clashing with the fact that Vaelin is, well…cute. And small. I could probably pick him up and toss him across the room if I needed to.

“What’s in it for you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

His grin sharpens. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for lost puppies.”

It feels off—too easy, too smooth—but I don’t have many options right now. And for all his sharp words and teasing, there’s something about Vaelin that makes me want to believe him.

“Alright,” I say finally, nodding. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Vaelin’s grin widens, and he pushes off the bar, leading me toward the door. “You’ll thank me later, big guy. Trust me.”

As I follow him into the night, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just made a deal with a very charming devil.

Chapter two

Vaelin

This guy is perfect:big, clueless, andwaytoo trusting for his own good.

I didn’t plan on running a play tonight–my folks raised me to at leasttryto indulge in the Yuletide spirit, and stealing is, of course, wrong–but I can’t help that the perfect mark fell into my lap. Theo walked into the Frosted Flagon like a kid on his first trip to the big city, staring at everything like it might bite him. And if the green skin and red hair didn’t catch my attention, his sword would have.

Adamantium with dragonsteel inlay.

Even the scabbard could fetch a pretty penny…if I could get it off of him.

So I moseyed up to the bar, thinking the huge half-orc would tell me off, but he turned out to be putty in my hands. When I offered to help him, he hesitated for about three seconds before agreeing, and that made it clear what type of person he is.

Predictable–too nice for their own good.

Easy to use.

He doesn’t even blink when I lead him out of the market and into the alley, away from the buzzing, tourist-y activity of the Market Square. You would think someone would question why you’re moving away from the action when they’re trying to get a tour of a new city, but I don’t think Theo is the type to ask questions.

“So,” I say, craning my neck to look up at him. “What’s your story?”

He gives me a suspicious look. “My story? Uh…what story?”

I snort. “I’m asking you what you’re doing in town,” I laugh. “I know you said you were working some stuff out, but give me a little more to go on. What would you like to see? How can I help?”

It may sound sweet, but this is really the grift–because nobody shows up in Hearthwynd without needing something. Once Ifind out what Theo needs, I can convince him that I’m the one who will give it to him…collect payment…then disappear.

“Well,” he says. “You have to promise not to tell.”

It’s really too easy.

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I reply.

He looks around as if he might be followed, then he grabs my arm and tugs me into a shadowy alcove. I ignore the way my heart flutters at his touch–I’m too good at this to be stupid enough to get involved with a mark–but being here in the shadows with him has me dreaming up all kinds of fantasies.

“Okay,” he says. “So…the thing is, I’m supposed to be dead.”

I almost laugh. “Anyone who knows what you look like will very much be able to tell you’re not dead at all–”

“That’s the thing,” he says. “People don’t know what I look like. I’m Cedric Greymarch’s son.”

I gape at him.

No…no fucking way.

---