Page 71 of Heirs of the Cursed

Alasdair offered her a subtle nod and paced around the room. “Will you be at the party tonight?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Can’t it be simple curiosity?”

Darcia lifted her chin proudly. “I have a girlfriend.”

“That beautiful woman for whom your eyes sparkle when you look at her?” Alasdair shrugged. “I know, I’ve seen her.”

“You have?”

Alasdair took a step toward her but kept his distance, as if he knew she wasn’t comfortable with people invading her personal space. A violent tug jerked at Darcia’s chest, and her heart skipped a beat.

“I see more things than you think, gorgeous.”

Darcia folded her arms as she said, “I might have misread things.”

“Oh, don’t be confused. In an ordinary situation, I would fight any man or woman for a taste of your lips,” Alasdair admitted, with not even a hint of doubt nor shame. “But that’s not the case, because you and I are not ordinary people.”

No, they weren’t. She was a circus illusionist imprisoned by invisible chains and he was a renowned thief who didn’t care about the world or the consequences of his actions.Two completely different people who shared the same destiny: oblivion.

“Why are you here, then?”

“I might have wanted to ask you to accompany me to the ball, but it would be awkward considering you don’t trust me.”

“That’s because the first time we met was . . . odd.”

“I don’t understand why you say that.”

“You were stealing from my girlfriend’s store!” she emphasized with a reprimanding look.

“You’re right, maybe it wasn’t the most conventional meeting. But I saved your life.”

“And threatened to cut my throat.”

“You threw a dagger at me too” Alasdair raised a hand to his chest. “You could have hurt me very badly.”

“That was the whole point,” she smirked.

“It's fortunate that I have good reflexes, then.”

A laugh burst out of Darcia’s mouth. A hearty, real laugh—one that she hadn’t heard in a long time. When she focused her attention back on Alasdair, she found him staring at her as if he saw beyond the prim beauty of her face, as if he could see in her all that the world had tried to take from her.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You were in bad shape yesterday.”

Darcia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “The Midnight Thief . . . worried about someone?”

“I may have grown fond of you,” Alasdair confessed.

“You don’t know me well enough for that.”

“I don’t need to.”

Darcia frowned with slight distrust. Yes, he’d helped her, but nothing would make her forget that Alasdair was a criminal.

“I don’t trust faceless people,” she admitted, clasping her hands behind her back.

Alasdair, to her surprise, laughed. “A face means nothing, nor does a name.”

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