Page 113 of Realm of Thieves

I open the cupboard, my hands shaking.

I stand on my tiptoes and reach up.

Clasp the egg between my fingers.

A jolt runs through me, making my blood feel like it’s singing.

This is it.

This is it.

I almost cry tears of joy, though I’m not sure if it’s because I found what we came here for, an egg with the power to change the world, or if it’s something else, something calling to me that I don’t quite understand, igniting a fire deep in my soul, like I’ve had something inside me that’s been dormant since the day I was born.

I open my palm and stare at the egg, heavier than any dragon egg I’ve ever held. It pulses metallic pink for a moment before it goes back to being a muted shade of purple gray, the color of twilight.

“What are you doing?”

I gasp and whirl around while tucking the egg into one of my robed sleeves, sliding it into the pouch sewn into my armor.

“Sister Marit?” the Harbringer asks sharply, having identified something about my robe and veil that gives away who I’m trying to be.

I can’t answer, not even if I wanted to. I’m so struck by the sight of the Harbringer’s awful face, thrust back to my very first day here, grieving the deaths of my father and mother, that I’m speechless.

Her cataracted eyes sweep over me, her expression hardening. She’s still so pale, so ancient looking that I’m starting to wonder if she’ll live forever.

“You’re not Sister Marit,” she says stiffly, slowly reaching into her robe.

I have no time to weigh my options.

I reach into mine, pulling out my ash-glass sword just as shebrings out something dark and small that fits into her palm. A miniature bolt-thrower with a button trigger, the arrowhead razor-sharp and shiny.

It’s aimed right at me.

“Who are you?” the Harbringer says. “Reveal yourself before I shoot you.”

“I’ll just deflect it with my sword,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I’ll cut your throat a second after that.”

“And if you can’t?” she counters, raising her chin as she takes a step toward me. “If this arrow pierces your skin, you’ll have five seconds before you succumb to an agonizing death. It is laced with the blood of a sandviper. Perhaps you’re familiar with those.”

I was. Many of my parents’ livestock were bitten by them. A horrible, drawn-out way to die, but part of life in the plains outside Lerick.

I don’t want to call this woman’s bluff—I don’t think she’s bluffing.

But I need to kill her if I want to make it out of here with the egg.

I refuse to die.

“I’m familiar with everything,” I tell her.

The corner of her wrinkled mouth curls, as potent as a viper’s bite. “And you are familiar to me. Tell me, who are you? There are so many disgruntled youths whose backs I never had the pleasure of breaking.”

How many?I think.How many others are like me, who have escaped your torment?

But that question is for another day.

Instead, I say nothing. With my eyes locked on her, my sword acting as a shield, I rip back my veil so that she can see my face.

She doesn’t seem surprised.

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