Page 14 of Princess of Thieves

I set the empty glass on the table and moved to stand, but it all hits me at once. I’m just a little dizzy,

Guy catches me by the elbow, ever so suave. “It’s been an incredibly long few days for you, Maren,” he whispers in my ear. “You should get to bed.” I nod, and he lets me go, with Rosa swooping in before I can offer a second word.

“I know it’s just a first step,” he says, “but I hope you know what this means on a larger scale for you. He can’t get to you anymore—your family, your money. You’re free, Maren.”

You’re free.

I’ve never had anyone say those words to me before, and I have to say, they sound fucking beautiful.

HOURS LATER, I’M TOSSINGand turning in the massive bed, clad in a new pair of smooth, buttery-soft pajamas. In spite of myself, I can’t sleep. I punch the pillow and turn over, my hair cascading into my face as I do. If John’s arrested and in custody, that means he can’t get to my money, even as my guardian, even with Guy having paid him off. There’s no way, and if he can’t get to it, that means...

That means I can.

I flop onto my back, my mind racing as I stare at the ceiling. If thereissomething my parents left me, if I do have a college fund or a trust or anything, then it’s mine by right now, free andclear. But I have to claim it somehow, and I don’t have what I’d need to do that. I don’t have a driver’s license for obvious reasons, due to my so-called epilepsy, and I don’t even have my birth certificate. I’m sure I can’t just go into every branch of every bank in town and demand they give me my money. Richard de Mornay’s daughter or not, I’m going to have to track that down somehow and get all the documentation I need. Someone who has access to all the systems—like Tuck, I think, my heart squeezing as I remember the sweet, tousle-headed computer nerd back at Rob’s house—but that’s not an option anymore.

What do I have at my disposal now? I think. I don’t even have a phone. But I do have whatever’s here, I suppose, and maybe somehow I can make that work.

I flop to my other side, still restless, and close my eyes. A breeze rustles through the window and stirs the curtains.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think I hear a wolf howling in the distance.

Chapter Five

The next day, I wake up strangely determined. Maybe it’s just having eaten an actual meal for the first time in a long while. Maybe it’s getting a decent night’s sleep, or maybe it’s the knowledge that Uncle John is finally, finally going to face some kind of consequence. Whatever it is, I’m energized. The grandfather clock is chiming 9:15 when I finally get out of bed. I pick an outfit from my new wardrobe—a petal-colored polo shirt and some navy shorts—and slink down to the kitchen.

I’m going to ask Guy if I can use his computer. I’ve decided I have plenty of good reasons to, and if he really does want to help me, then he won’t find it suspicious. But when I arrive at the kitchen, I don’t find Guy—only Rosa, standing at the stove and stirring something. She jumps.

“Oh!” she says. “Miss, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

Not an unreasonable guess, I think. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just—”

“Your breakfast isn’t ready,” she hurries on, ducking her head, almost wincing, as if she’s thinking I’m going to hit her.

“Oh,” I say again. “No, that’s fine. I’m not even that hungry.” Hearing that, she looks crestfallen. “I mean, I’m sure it’s delicious. I can’t wait.”

I look around. The kitchen is otherwise empty and absolutely spotless; not even so much as an empty green smoothie glass.

“Is Guy here?”

“Mr. Guy went into work early this morning,” she says. “Lots to work on for the case, he said.”

“Makes sense. He works a lot, huh?” I ask.

Rosa tips her head from side to side in a non-committal gesture. She’s not giving me much, but I guess I can’t blame her for being guarded.

“Here,” she says, gesturing at the table. “You sit.”

I do sit and wait as she brings me another bowl of my healthy whole grain cereal and, at least, thank God, a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” I say. Maybe I can ask her... “Do you think—” I start, but Rosa glances at me with wide eyes that seem to suggest I shouldn’t even—

“Mr. Guy says you are welcome to roam around the house and enjoy whatever you need,” she says, indicating a note written on the counter.

“Oh,” I say and take a sip of the juice. “Thank you.”

Maren, it reads,I’m terribly sorry to miss you this morning; duty calls again. Please avail yourself of anything you need in the house. Rosa can assist if there’s something you need to get from outside. The entire facility is yours to use as you please—excluding my office, for obvious reasons, but beyond that, mi casa es su casa. I’ll see you this evening for dinner. I’ll try not to work too late. Fondly, Guy.

I scowl in spite of myself as I read the note. Of course, I understand that there’s probably privileged information in there, but I don’t have a phone, and a computer is what I’m going to need to figure out any next steps.

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