Page 33 of Realm of Thieves

My nonexistent honor is not worth it.

Andor doesn’t move for a moment, just breathes heavily, his face frozen in a sneer. Then he grunts and straightens up, releasing Kjell. He walks around the table and back to his chair beside me, avoiding my gaze.

Bloody blazes, is this what dinner at the Kolbecks’ is usually like?

“All right, sorry for the delay.” Margarelle’s voice rings out, interrupting the silent tension in the room. She bustles inside with Belon, both of them holding platters of steaming-hot food. My stomach immediately growls but as the food is being dished out, I can’t stop thinking about what Andor did. He can’t care that much about how I’m treated—it must come down to his volatile relationship with his uncle.

Belon spoons a stew of chicken and beans onto my plate, and the urge to eat is overwhelming. It smells delightful, the chicken browned and crisped at the edges of the skin, the beans and tomatoes rich in color and seeming perfectly spiced, making my mouth water despite the current circumstances.

“Don’t be shy,” Torsten says to me in his dry tone. “We haven’t poisoned yours.”

Though he doesn’t say it, the wordyetis implied.

And everyone at the table is staring at me, as if daring me to try it. Solla’s eyes are bright and inquisitive, Vidar’s cold and calculating, Steiner’s perplexed, Kjell’s angry as he presses a cloth to his neck, Torsten’s full of haughtiness and disdain, and Andor, well, I suppose he’s still trying not to look in my direction. Even Margarelle and Belon have paused by the door, watching me intently.

Fuck it. If I’m going to die by poisoned food, at least it will have been a good meal.

I have a bite. As expected, it tastes delicious.

“And?” Torsten goads. “Is it good enough for an Eslander? I can’t imagine the lot of you surviving on anything more than desert bugs.”

I paste on a smile and nod at Margarelle. “Compliments to the chef. It’s very good.”

Margarelle beams at me and leaves the room. At least someone here seems happy.

“You’re from Esland?” Steiner asks between mouthfuls. “I must have missed the memo about an Eslander coming to visit.”

“We all missed the memo,” Vidar comments under his breath.

“I’ve heard that the Eslanders don’t let anyone leave the continent,” Steiner goes on, talking fast now that he doesn’t have food in his mouth. “Were you smuggled out? Did Andor smuggle you out?”

“No,” I tell him, having a sip of my wine and feeling it bolster my confidence. “I live in the Banished Land. The Dark City. I am free to go where I choose.”

Steiner’s brow crinkles, his mouth dropping slightly before it curves into a grin. “You’re a Freelander? That’s even better.”

“What did you do to get yourself banished?” Vidar asks.

“I escaped the Daughters of Silence,” I tell him.

“Impossible,” Kjell says, slapping his blood-soaked cloth on the table. “No one who enters the Daughters ever leaves.”

“Well, I’m sure you must know more than I,” I tell him, wondering if he’s perceptive enough to pick up on the sarcasm.

“So then what did you do to get yourself in the Daughters of Silence?” Vidar asks over his goblet, cold green eyes observing me with discernment now.

“I didn’tdoanything,” I tell him. “I merely existed and paid forthe sins of my parents. They’re both dead, before you ask. They were rebels against the Saints of Fire.”

“Doesn’t explain how you escaped the convent,” Kjell says gruffly before having another slobbering sip of his wine.

“No, it doesn’t,” I say, leaving it at that while taking another bite of the stew.

Torsten sniffs. “A Daughter of Silence, a daughter of rebels, and a thief for House Dalgaard. Seems a likely path in life.”

“Thief for House Kolbeck.” Andor finally speaks up. Torsten eyes him and a silent exchange passes between them, loaded with meaning that I can’t decipher.

Suddenly I hear growling from behind me.

I turn around in my chair to see Lemi on his feet, tail wagging, as a shaggy-looking wolf dog comes from around the table and approaches him, teeth exposed in a low growl.

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