Page 44 of The Orc's Thief
“So you’re set on following me?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “If you want your money back, I can’t give it to you. I spent it all to settle a debt in Ultrup.”
I’m lying again, and it feels wrong, but I need him to understand that he’ll get nothing from me.
His gaze slides over to my saddlebags, then back to me. He lifts one dark eyebrow as if questioning my claim, as if he knows I’m lying. Does he?
“Did you go through my things?” I demand, spine straightening.
Arlon shakes his head. “I didn’t. But when you chucked the bags on the ground last night, I heard the coins clinking in there. You’ve still got the money, Tessa. So how about we stop lying to each other?”
Embarrassment shoots through me, hot and unpleasant, and anger follows on its heels. “I won’t apologize for who I am.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he retorts, frowning. “I only asked for the truth.”
Damn him. Damn my stupid feelings, too. I’ve been a thief for too long to succumb to guilt and shame, and yet this man’s sharp gaze has me questioning my actions. It’s deeply unpleasant, and I don’t want to think about why my life has turned out the way it has.
“I’m a thief,” I snap. “That’s the truth. If you don’t like that, you’re welcome to leave. I didn’t ask you to follow me here.”
He leans back, studying me in silence for a long moment, enough to make me squirm.
“No, I suppose you didn’t,” he says at last. “But I’m here anyway, so we might as well make the most of it.”
He passes me the last bit of meat, then gets up and cleans his knife diligently before stowing it away. With that same efficient grace, he puts out the fire, tossing dirt over it to smother the remaining coals. Then he disappears into the bushes, leaving me alone to stew in my unhappiness.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to figure out what to do. I ran from Arlon once already, and I was sure I’d left him behind. Apparently, it would take more than leaving the city and hiding in the forest to shake him.
But what if I return what I’ve stolen from him?
He claimed he didn’t care about the gold, but that can’t be true. Of course he’s going to follow the money. I saw the remaining purses in his lockbox at the Heron, but I would care if someone stole my gold, no matter how much of it I had stashed away.
And the letters… I didn’t find anything useful in them, so I might as well give them back and send him on his way once and for all.
He’ll have no reason to follow me then.
My heart thumps faster as I pull my saddlebags close and root through them for the stolen loot. The two gold purses sit heavy in my palms, and I eye them wistfully. It was a good dream, thinking I could use the money to set myself up for life. I pry open the strings and take three coins from each of the purses, heft them carefully, then take out two more. This much money will still see me through the worst of it if I’m careful, and I don’t think he’ll notice the difference, not unless he had the gold counted down to the last coin. If he demands all of it, I’ll say I spent it.
This time, I’m more careful when tucking the money away. I place each coin separately, so they won’t chime against each other.
Then I take out the bundle of his letters and place it beside Arlon’s saddlebags, along with the coin purses. It’s strange, but I’m almost more reluctant to part with the letters than the gold, so I push away, busying myself with repacking my bags now that I have some extra space in them.
It’s just that I haven’t received a personal letter in so long. Only notes about meetings or new jobs, and even those were rare, as it’s not exactly smart to put illegal plans into writing. Arlon’s friends and family obviously miss him, while my family wanted nothing to do with me. The difference is jarring, isall. I’m not jealous, just surprised that there are people out there who have a whole company of relatives and acquaintances willing to exchange letters with them.
Arlon’s footsteps are quiet when he returns to camp. That I hear him coming at all means he’s distracted, not focused on sneaking up on me like he was last night. I still can’t get over how I relaxed immediately when I realized it was him visiting my small camp, not the Ravens. Ishouldhave been just as worried, since I robbed him too, but something about him has my defenses crumbling.
He stops when he notices the two money purses, but it’s the letters he grabs first, undoing the string binding them together.
“You said you burned them,” he murmurs, shuffling the stack as if to make sure they’re all accounted for.
My face is hot all over as I mumble, “Well, I lied.”
“Thank you,” he rasps.
That has me looking up at him. He looks so damn relieved, I feel like an even bigger villain for taking this personal treasure from him, even for a few days.
Then my mouth gets away from me, and I admit, “I read some of them.”
His cheeks flush a deeper shade of green. “Why?”
Damn it.Thisis why I always work alone. I hate this awkwardness. I’ve built walls around myself to protect me from feeling for my marks, and Arlon is stomping on all of them, forcing his way through.
