Page 1 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Part One
The Thief
One
Of all the outrageous wastes of money Mavery had encountered while robbing manors, a four-foot-tall painting of hellhounds topped the list. The artist had depicted the beasts’ scarlet eyes, umber fur, and barbed tails with such chilling accuracy, it took her a moment to recover from shock and notice the blue aura peeking out from behind the canvas.
To hang this painting directly across from his four-poster bed, Baron Roven had to be fearless, eccentric, or—the more likely answer—a little of both. If this were Mavery’s bedroom, she would never get a good night’s rest, despite that luxurious bed. And that was to make no mention of therealhellhounds prowling about the manor’s lower levels.
“The safe is behind that painting,” she said. “Seems to be guarded with your run-of-the-mill protective ward.”
Her partner, Neldren, crossed the master bedroom in three strides and lowered the painting to the floor, revealing the safe embedded within the wall. Mavery began to follow him, but her green eyes flicked to the two pairs of red ones, and she froze again.
“Er, Nel, could you do me a favor and turn that around?”
He obliged with a chuckle. Mavery knew she was being ridiculous; it was only a painting. Still, she couldn’t deny how her shoulders relaxed once those demonic eyes were no longer staring back.
“Remind me again why you agreed to this job, knowing we’d be dealing with demonspawn?”
“Weare not dealing with demonspawn,” she said. “Fennick and Itri are. And the pay was too good to pass up, as you reminded me at least a dozen times.”
She tucked a strand of golden brown hair behind her ear as she stepped forward to examine what, to Neldren’s eyes, would appear an ordinary safe. Only Mavery could actually see the magic emanating off it. Tendrils of blue light were loosely entwined like a sweater made with thick yarn. Mavery didn’t need to break the ward completely to reach the metal beyond it.
As she spread her fingers, the tendrils pulled apart, creating a gap large enough for a hand to slip through. With a turn of her wrist, the tendrils froze in place. It was so effortless, it was almost insulting.
According to this job’s buyer, the baron wasn’t a mage, nor did he employ any. The magic must have been contracted out to a freelancing wardsmith. Mavery had occasionally dipped her toes in that line of work. Making a steady income had been difficult when her wards lasted weeks at a time, even without anchoring spells. To guarantee repeat business, she could have instead created second-rate wards like the one guarding this safe.
But no, there was more satisfaction—and money—in wardbreaking. Especially when it came to breaking the wards of mages who took little pride in their craft.
She reached through the gap and tugged the safe’s handle. It didn’t budge.
“It’s locked,” she said, looking over her shoulder. With his slate-gray skin, Neldren blended into the darkness, but Mavery glimpsed his leather boots dangling off the footboard. In the seconds it had taken her to manipulate the ward, he’d made himself comfortable on the baron’s bed.
“Paranoid bastard,” he snorted. “Magic wasn’t enough for him?”
“He was right to not put much faith in it. A child could break this ward, given enough time.”
She pushed her hands apart, stretching the gap until the wardcreated a thin border around the safe’s door, completely exposing it. She could very well crack the combination, too. But since the payout for this job was being split five ways, she wasn’t about to do more work than was necessary.
“All yours,” she said.
Neldren slung himself off the bed, landed on the carpet with a soft thud.
“It better not explode in my face when I open it.”
“I’m not Sensing any blasting wards. If you need me, I’ll be in the library.”
She turned to leave, but he took her by the wrist.
“Are you sure? Cracking this safe won’t take long, and it’ll be some time before we need to regroup with the others.” He placed a finger beneath her chin, tilted her head upward. “I figured, seeing as we have this bed and a couple of minutes to spare—”
“Come on, be serious.” She laughed, batting his hand away.
“Oh, but I am, Mave.Veryserious.”
Even in the dim glow of their lanterns, the desire on his face couldn’t be more clear. But she still suspected he was only joking; he would nevertake such a risk. The only part she fullybelieved was that he’d only need “a couple of minutes.” Such had been the case the last time they shared a bed.
“Maybe later.”
