Page 65 of The Omega Thief

A moment later, he regretted tempting fate. Goddess knew he was trying to bolster his confidence, but he should have known.

The sharp blade that pressed against his neck and the guttural whisper from behind him told him so.

“Attiker Lynch,” the voice cackled. “What a shame for you.” Attiker nearly closed his eyes in defeat.

Where in seven hells had Jeremiah Grape come from?

Attiker froze. But all he could think was that Jeremiah Grape wasn’t just sentencing him to death, but Raz, as well. In fact, he would happily step into the blade if it meant his prince would live.

He’d stood there uselessly while others had lifted him, cared for him, and taken him away. He’d barely kissed him goodbye. Hadn’t told him that Attiker’s stupid heart beat only for him. Why? What the seven hells was wrong with him. Attiker never panicked like that. He’d seen too much, done too much, to let something like that affect him.

But he’d never been in love. And he was now. Hopelessly. It was why he was here, and sudden scalding bitter fury rolled over him, but he didn’t tense up. He’d been in this position before. He might be in love with a prince, but Attiker was a child of the back alleys.

He sagged, defeatedly, and exactly what he’d hoped would happen, did. Jeremiah took his reaction for surrender, and the blade moved away from his throat slightly, enough to give him the inch and a half he needed to jerk his head back and connect with Jeremiah’s nose.

Jeremiah stumbled, but he didn’t drop the knife, and Attiker felt it slice his skin, but not deep enough he would bleed to death. He followed it up with a backward kick to his shins and an elbow to the bastard’s gut, and then Jeremiah let go.

He still had the knife, though, and Attiker didn’t have any weapon save his brain and his hands. “What’s the matter, Grape,” Attiker taunted. “Still sore I’ll always be the better seeker than you?”

Jeremiah nearly shrieked his fury, but he’d always been piss-poor at self-control, and now was no different. He charged at Attiker, admittedly faster than he was expecting, but Attiker still avoided his blade. They were in a standoff, though. Attiker still had his back to the barn, and while Jeremiah might be an ass-wipe, he was still nimble on his feet.

Attiker ducked and dived. Damn and blast, he needed a weapon. They were fighting, but they easily matched in size and strength. Then Attiker stupidly gambled on a direction he didn’t think Jeremiah would guess at, until a second too late, but as luck would have it, the bastard did exactly the same thing, and Jeremiah grasped Attiker’s shirt and pulled his hand back.

Attiker knew he was too close. But just as Jeremiah’s fingers tightened some more, he seemed to still. Attiker wrenched himself backwards, but Jeremiah didn’t move. He stared at him as if he didn’t know where he was, then he coughed, and blood bubbled on his lips and dribbled down his chin.

In another second, he was down to his knees. Barely a second after that, he face-planted in the dirt. Attiker raised his eyes cautiously at the new threat, and a shadow stepped forward. The dagger in a small brown hand gleaming with Jeremiah’s blood.

Then Princess Veda pushed back her hood, bent, and cleaned her blade on Jeremiah’s cloak. Attiker’s lips parted. “Princess,” he whispered in astonishment, but Veda simply put a finger to hers and then looked around as if she’d heard something. In another second, she melted back into the darkness. Attiker got his breathing under control and listened into the darkness, but apart from the distant sound of animals, he couldn’t hear anything.

Attiker looked down at the dead body of Jeremiah. Remembered that Jeremiah had left him injured in the caves of the Patir Hills, kidnapped him, then tried to get him addicted to fever white, and basically was a grasping, bitter man that no one would miss. Attiker bent down and dragged his body away from the doors, then went back to tell Ash they had somewhere to get out of the rain.

They got the horses dry and themselves in a better state, while Attiker basically admitted to Ash that Veda had saved his life. But they couldn’t wait. The first challenge had been urgent because Raz could lose his crown, and the kingdom would be ruled by a megalomaniac, but this was a million times worse. This time, it was personal.

“Doweevenknowwhy some woman is at the abbey?” Ash asked. “I mean, aren’t they all monks?”

It was a good question. One not easily answered at early fourth bell when everyone should be asleep. But they couldn’t wait, so Ash held the horses while he rapped loudly on the door. It took a few times before an abbot opened the panel on top of the door.

“Holy father,” Attiker said respectfully. “I come from Cadmeera with an urgent request from His Highness Raz’mar Kinsharae. I wish to speak to Sera Templeton.” The abbot didn’t reply, but barely a moment later, the door opened. Ash was directed to where the horses could rest, and Attiker was shown through a maze of steps and corridors and then past an enormous kitchen and into a small sitting room. Ash joined him a moment later, and coffee and pastries were provided, much to their surprise. A few minutes later, a pleasant young woman entered the room, introducing herself as Sera and helping herself to coffee.

They had both gone backwards and forwards over what to say, but in the end, Attiker was too exhausted for subterfuge. “My betrothed, Prince Raz’mar, has been bitten by a gray rat. I need to secure a young Neeral for the antidote. I understand it has to be a female.”

Sera leaned back and just regarded him for a full minute. “Not that I hide,” she said, “but how did you find me?”

“Eryken,” Attiker answered honestly, and her eyes narrowed.

“You’re the thief.”

He laughed because it was ridiculous. “Thief…People’s Champion.” Attiker waved his hand like the justices still had to decide on his official title, and she chuckled.

“Well, you’re right to be wanting a female, which means you need a nest.”

He nodded and, without shame, reached for her hand, all pretend humor vanishing. “I’m running out of time.”

She was silent for a moment. “Did you see the road that leads to the cove? The old port?” Attiker nodded. “Well, that’s where you’ll find ‘em.”

“Where?” He needed exact instructions.

She shrugged. “I haven’t been looking for ‘em, but the cliffs have sand dunes on them. That’s where they burrow. But you have to tempt them out with a rat. You can’t follow them deep enough, and it would take a week or more to dig them out.”

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