Page 59 of A City of Flames

“Can’t you do that yourself?” I bite out. “You’re known as the greatest thief out there with immunity to steel powder.”

He chuckles under his breath, flicking the coin on the tip of his finger as it spins, gold lighting reflecting onto his skin. “I’m not immune to it.”

My eyes jerk wide in shock.

“I’ve simply taken it in my drinks for years now that I’ve built resistance.”

That must be why many shifters are gaining confidence with attacks. Maybe it’s Darius showing them that resistance.

“But even then—” He catches the coin in his glove mid-air. “—It’s more thrilling to see you steal it rather than me.”

I glower at his grin. He’s giving me an impossible task, much like Ivarron had done. “Why is it you wish to steal that precise pendant?”

His brows rise slightly like I’ve asked the most ridiculous thing out there. “Are you really questioning a thief as to why they want that stolen?”

“Good point,” I expel a sharp breath. “So, if I get this pendant—which is a dreadful mission you are tasking me with by the way.”

“It is.”

I shoot his mocking face an exasperated look. “You will give me a vial of your blood?”

“Vial, jar...” A thoughtless motion of his hand. “Whatever pleases you.”

I pinch my lips together, narrowing my gaze at him with the thought sinking into my mind. Get the pendant and I get his blood in exchange.

Another task I can’t believe I’m getting myself into.

“Then,” I take a deep breath. “I’ll have that pendant within reach soon enough.” My voice gives nothing away, whether I believe I can do it or not or whether I believe him.

Strutting past while itching to get away, he grasps my forearm. The side of my body hits against his despite the grip on my blade. “Hang on.” His voice is almost a whisper by the side of my head, I can practically feel him smiling against it. “You know my name. It’s only fair I get to know yours now.”

Slowly looking up at the closeness of his eyes glittering like golden stars, I pluck my arm from his hand, detesting the thought of even giving him my name. He backs away, and the insufferable mischief in his countenance makes me think of a nickname I’d once given to my father’s mare. “Misty,” I exhale.

“Misty?” Darius repeats, quirking a brow. I nod. “Who named you, your father?”

“No.” I glare at his always brazen-faced expression. “My mother.”

“You don’t look like a Misty.”

“And what do I look like then?”

He hums in thought, circling me slowly and pursing his lips as he starts naming things then murmuring to himself whether he likes it or not.

I tap my foot, tiring of his wits when— “Goldie.” Rubble from the ground scrapes as he drags his boot across the floor to a stop. His smile, entrancing and all, slowly appears as he says, “I think you look like a Goldie. Wouldn’t you agree, Tibith?”

“Goldie, Goldie, Goldie!” Tibith sings before gasping. “Just like her hair Darry!”

“Exactly like her hair,” he murmurs.

“Are we done here?” I ask flatly, impatient, infuriated.

He steps aside, extending his hand out to lead the way and bows at the waist with that grace he’s held since the moment we met.

I make sure to lift the dagger in his line of sight, not intending to retract the blades as I walk off.

“Oh, and Goldie?” He calls once I’ve made it halfway down the street. I twist around. “I never got that thank you for saving your life the other night.”

A strained smile curves my lips, distinct to his, as I decide to mimic him and curtsy back. “Thank you ever so much for being so kind as to spare me from a bite.” I turn again but not without hearing his smooth laughter bouncing off the walls as I mumble, “Pig.”

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