Page 7 of The Sorcerer's Thief
I saunter up to him, hands on my hips, maybe a little too cocky for my britches, but he’s put on a show. Now it’s my turn. “So, what was all that with the dancing orange lights?”
His dark brows nearly meet in the middle; such is the extent of his disapproval. “Apparently not enough. What do you want for it?”
What do I want? I shake my head and sigh. My family back. Our home back. The life I was meant to live back, rather than this shitty one that was forced on me. “Nothing you have to give.”
“You don’t seem to understand?—”
“No,youdon’t seem to understand.” An old anger stirs in my belly. “Back off, let me by, and kindly never threaten me again.”
“But—”
“There’s no way I’m giving you the coin, and as we’ve already established, you can’t take it from me.”
“Yet.”
“Pfft.”
He balls his hands into fists. “I will have that coin.”
“You won’t. And I told you to shoo.” I wave him off. “Go on, get.”
“Did you just flick your fingers at me?” His I’m-so-affronted look is more entertaining than the scowl-of-disapproval look.
“Sure did.” I repeat the motion with an exaggerated flourish, showcasing all five perfect digits. I need him out of my way so I can leave this fancy city with its arrogant nobility, its marble statues, and its shoddy sorcerers.
“This isn’t over.” He narrows his gaze, huffs, and disappears.
Blinks out of existence.
Gone.
My jaw drops. Maybe not so shoddy after all? It’s a rare sorcerer who possesses the ability to gate at all, much less so easily.
Rumor has it the old queen could travel by portal. And the Gatekeeper, of course. But an ordinary citizen? Julian’s magic must be extraordinary for him to vanish without a trace.
So that begs the question: why couldn’t he take the coin from me?
My magic is mostly tricks and illusions. I wouldn’t begin to know how to defend myself against a mage of Julian’s caliber—beyond running, that is.
I take another good, long look around. Maybe it was an illusion after all, and he’s only hidden himself somehow.
But no. The alley is dark, smelly, and empty. He’s gone.
My heart still pumps as if I’m in danger, my breaths coming rapidly. I hold my hand over the secret pocket, pressing the coin to my chest while composing myself.
It’s past time to flee from this city. The way out of Lemossin is due south, and I’m on course to pass its limits by midnight if I hurry.
A nice place in the forest beneath a canopy of pines is calling to me like a siren’s song. A campfire. Some supper. And sleep.
That’s all I need.
But I can’t shake the uneasy feeling I haven’t seen the last of the scowling sorcerer.
Chapter 3
Cricket
The flickering fire reminds me of Julian’s glowing hands. I stare into the flames and roll the coin between my fingers as the unlucky pigeon I stole from a noble manor’s dovecote cooks on a spit.
