Page 2 of The Elven Spymaster's Thief

The shadow elf replied, but his words were obscured. Whispier’s reply took on the same muffled quality, making me fear I had been discovered. Had the shadow elf seen me? Was that why they disguised their words? Because he knew I was eavesdropping? But then, why leave me here?

About an hour passed, and still, they murmured back and forth. I abandoned the idea of my possible discovery for the idea that they were just paranoid. It fit the intel better.

Leaning my head back against the wall, I lifted my hand to my face to rub my forehead before I remembered my hood. Dropping my hand once again, I eyed the blurred sky beyond the garden. How long did it take to deliver a report?

Then suddenly, the voices ceased. A soft whump next to me and then beneath the tree marked the exit of the shadow elf. According to the diagrams I had memorized, the footfalls above retreated toward the spymaster's bed chamber in one of the adjoining rooms. I almost groaned with relief. Let him fall to sleep quickly. Then I could claim the prize and get out of this dangerous palace.

I remained in my hiding place another half hour by my reckoning before moving through the open door into the next room. It was twice the breadth of the plant room and twice as tall. Instead of a tree crowding the ceiling, a huge dome made of cut and stained glass twinkled in the glow of a dim floating globe. I had stumbled into the front entrance. A sweeping staircase hugged the wall from the excessively tall double doors opposite me to above my head where it passed before my first destination, the door into Spymaster Whispier’s study.

Within minutes, I crept up the stairs and reached the door. Placing my ear to the wood, I listened. Nothing but the rushing sound of my own blood in my ears.

I tried the handle. To my utter astonishment, it turned. A chill pricked my skin. What spymaster worth his reputation neglected to lock his study?

A soft thump came from the foyer below.

I never moved through a doorway so fast in my life. By some miracle, I managed to close it behind me without making a sound. Only once the latched clicked in place did I pause to assess the room I had entered.

Elegant but masculine furniture adorned with a minimum of decoration lined the walls. A single expansive table dominated the center of the room. In a place of honor, sitting literally in the middle of that enormous slab of polished wood, was the very object I had been sent to retrieve.

The moment my eyes fell on the dagger, I knew something was very wrong. The thing was ugly, roughly made, and hardly even functional. Why did my master send me into the den of the greatest mastermind in Eldarlan to steal a child’s toy? I squinted at it. It was not even an enchanted toy.

Still, I had my orders. My life and livelihood depended on fulfilling this mission. Grimore wouldn’t tolerate anything less than absolute success. Letting out the smallest of silent sighs, I approached the table. I ascertained that it hadn’t been boobytrapped either magically or otherwise using all of my observational skills.

Well, here I go,I thought. I reached across the table and lifted the small dagger from its display.

“Are you sure you want that one?”

I jumped. My heart threatened to leap from my chest. For one frantic moment, I feared I would die from fright. I whirled toward the voice. Anger replaced panic in an instant. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No.” He was lean, but there was a substance to his frame, unlike most elves I had seen from afar. Muscle across the chest and shoulders gave his long lines a dangerous power that had nothing to do with magic. His piercing green eyes assessed me with a sharpness that made me want to flinch away. Unlike most of his kind, he had cropped his brown hair instead of letting it flow down his back. The tapered curls did nothing to hide the pointed tips of his ears. His clothing also had a simpler cut, but the fabric was no less fine. It hung in appealingly elegant lines, accentuating his feline-like movements as he stalked across the hardwood floor. “I was merely curious.”

“Whether or not you could shock my heart into stopping?” I backed up until my hips hit the edge of the table behind me. I still clutched the sheathed dagger to my chest. After all this, I had no intention of leaving without it.

“Human hearts are fragile, but I have never known one as young as yours to stop due to shock. Blade, curse, poison, draining, or ripping it from the chest, yes. Those can kill, but fright, no.” He held out his elegant hand. “Give me the blade.”

“No.” Unnerved by how unfailingly he stared into my eyes despite my bespelled cloak and the mask obscuring my features. Attraction warred with the fission of alarm.

“I could take it by force.”

“You will lose more than you gain in the process.”

His impassive features moved. An eyebrow rose slightly as though intrigued. “I am stronger than I look.”

I snorted. “So am I.” I slid my favorite blade from its hiding place without letting go of the useless one I was trying to steal. There was no way this thug of Whispier’s was going to relieve me of my prize, elf or not.

In an instant, before I could react, a long thin stiletto flicked into his fingers, and the cool edge of the blade rested against my throat. “I am faster.”

“That may be,” I admitted.

A twitch near his eye broke through his stoic mask. “But?”

I leaned slightly back from his blade, giving me the ability to swallow. His eyes narrowed as he watched the movement of my throat. I used the distraction wisely.

“Speed isn’t everything.” I pressed the edge of my deadly iron-laced blade to his gut, perfectly positioned to drive it straight up into his stomach at the slightest provocation.

To my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he stepped closer. “I doubt you will have time to follow through on that threat. A quick flick of my wrist, and you will be dead in seconds.”

I stared into the mysterious depths of his enigmatic spring green eyes. He was close enough that I could see the blue flecks near his pupil and the ring of silver around the iris’ outer edge. I could also feel him. His deep, even breaths fluttered against the mask, bringing the scents of trees, fresh air, and the promise of something inexplicable. A tingle of wild magic different from the comfortable brownie charms on my cloak invaded my head. A sleep spell! It whispered sweetly of warmth and comfort, tempting me to relax.

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