Rated: Explicit
Chapter 1: The Price of Defiance
Some bargains don’t end.
They follow you into death and everything that comes after.
Lysette learned that the hard way. What began as a simple robbery turned into something much worse when she stole from the wrong god. So she made a bargain. Bound to the underworld in exchange for her life, Lysette is forced into centuries of service among the dead. If she produces the stolen relic, she walks free. The problem is she doesn’t know where it is.
When a war throws a wrench in her plans and a new ruler descends to claim the underworld, Lysette’s careful existence begins to unravel. Because her bargain was never made with a god. It was made with the underworld itself. And when Kyris, an untested archangel, takes control, he inherits a system he doesn’t fully understand and a mortal who should not exist within it. Now, Lysette, who has survived centuries by remaining unseen, becomes impossible to ignore.
As old rules shift, Lysette is forced to confront the reality of what she is and what she owes.
ATTN: This is a rework of Dreaming in Silver and Gold without the fanfiction elements. Everything that will be written will be my own creation. The beginning will be different, and then some chapters will be the same as disag. So, if you're a fan of that, you should like this. <3
“From the first breath of death, the crown was forged, so that the god who carried endings would never forget beginning.” - Fragment of an old temple litany.
The first thing Lysette stole that evening was a name. Names were useful, especially in noble houses where cataloging bloodlines was practically a pastime. A name could open a door, earn a kiss on the hand, or a whispered invitation. A name could become a mask of its own.
Tonight, she wore Lady Mariel of Lapeira. She stole Lady Mariel’s invitation from a courier three days earlier. No one in the ballroom seemed to know the woman well enough to question Lysette, which made her perfect. She descended the grand staircase in a midnight-blue silk ballgown, one gloved hand resting lightly on the marble railing. Pearls sewn into the bodice caught the candlelight and twinkled like stars against a night sky. The fitted bodice cinched her waist tightly, contrasting with the overwhelming bell-shaped volume of her skirts. The dress was elegant enough to satisfy the nobility and light enough for her to run in if she needed to.
Diamond pins held her hair loosely at the crown of her head, though several strands had escaped to frame her face and brush the curve of her jaw. Beneath the mask, her features looked softer than they truly were. She had a full mouth trained into a polite smile, sharp cheekbones warmed by candlelight, and watchful silver eyes that missed little. Her mask was the same deep blue as her dress, embroidered along the edges with silver thread and tiny pearls.
From the tall windows lining the eastern wall of the ballroom, Lysette could see most of Veyra spread beneath them.
The city had been built in layers along the hills surrounding the Bay of Saints, though Lysette had always thought the name generous considering what usually floated in the water. The oldest parts of Veyra crowded the harbor below, where crooked buildings leaned over narrow streets, and ships from every corner of Asterra fought for space along the docks. Beyond them rose the merchant districts, packed tightly with markets, temples, bathhouses, theaters, and apartments built one atop another until the city seemed to climb over itself in its effort to escape the sea.
Higher still stood the noble quarter. Here, the streets widened, and trees grew behind iron fences. The buildings were made from pale stone hauled from the northern mountains, and every estate had been constructed with the apparent intention of making the neighboring estates look inadequate.
Lord Vey’s palace had succeeded.
The estate occupied the highest hill in the western district, overlooking the city like a jeweled crown placed upon the head of something diseased. Hundreds of candles burned behind its windows. Marble terraces descended through gardens filled with imported roses, silver fountains, and statues of gods whose temples had been abandoned long enough ago that no one remembered what offerings they preferred.
Beyond the city walls, the dark countryside stretched toward the distant mountains marking Asterra’s northern border. Somewhere past them lay kingdoms Lysette had never seen, roads she had never traveled, and enough wealthy people to keep her comfortably employed for the rest of her life.
Assuming she survived tonight.
She turned from the windows.
The ballroom was built to remind visitors that the Vey family had been wealthy longer than most families had existed. Marble columns rose toward a vaulted ceiling painted with angels and gods in fading gold leaf. Some of the faces had been damaged by time, their features cracked or lost beneath centuries of smoke from candles and fireplaces, but no one had bothered to restore them. Lord Vey would probably call it history.
Lysette called it neglect.
The gods watched from above as the masquerade unfolded beneath them.
Guests twirled across the polished marble floor in a blur of silk and jewels. Noblewomen drifted past in masks shaped like swans and foxes, while the men wore gilded antlers, silver moons, snarling wolves, and creatures Lysette suspected had never existed outside the imagination of an expensive mask maker. She even saw angel halos made from wire and colored glass hovering above carefully arranged curls.
An orchestra was preparing to play from a raised balcony at the far end of the room. The musicians wore the white and gold livery of House Vey and played beneath an enormous tapestry depicting the founding of Asterra. According to the tapestry, the first kings had descended from the heavens carrying swords of fire while the gods themselves knelt to welcome them.
According to Ladro, the first king had been a horse thief with an army large enough to convince everyone otherwise. Lysette found his version considerably more believable.
Servants moved quietly through the crowd carrying trays of champagne, sugared fruit, and enough food to feed one of the poorer districts for a week. Guards stood near the entrances in ceremonial armor polished so brightly that Lysette could see distorted reflections of the guests moving across their breastplates.
Asterra was one of the wealthiest kingdoms on the continent. Its ships controlled the western trade routes, its mines produced silver and iron, and its noble families had spent the better part of five centuries marrying, murdering, and betraying one another for the privilege of claiming responsibility for that success. Tonight, nearly all of them were gathered beneath one roof.
Lysette smiled. It was almost rude not to steal something.
The whole room smelled of roses, perfume, and money. Lysette hated how beautiful it was. Wealth could make rot look holy if there were enough perfume and candles.
Across the ballroom, Ladro was losing at cards with the grace of a man who had never worried about coin in his life. He had chosen something more dramatic for his attire. The velvet coat he wore featured embroidered silver birds that flashed in the candlelight whenever he tossed his hair or reached across the table. Beneath it, he wore a deep-red waistcoat of velvet and satin. His black hair fell to his shoulders in loose curls that framed his smirking mouth. He had a half-dishevelled look of someone who had just left a lover’s room. Emerald drop earrings swung against his jaw whenever he talked. The stones caught the candlelight in sharp green flashes. His mask covered only the upper half of his face. Its intricate design resembled a raven’s wings taking flight. He lounged at the gaming table with one boot crossed over the other and laughed too loudly at a Countess’s joke. Lysette caught his eye through the shifting crowd. He winked, and she fought the urge to groan and roll her eyes.
“Lady Mariel,” the man beside her sounded impatient. Lord Evander Vey, the host of the night, stared at her with barely contained outrage.
She gave the man an easy smile and patted his arm sympathetically. “Forgive me, I was just admiring the room. The architecture is so lovely.”
His face softened with pride. “Do you love it? My grandfather had a taste for history. Luxury is boring unless there is a story behind it.”
“Oh, really?” She showed nothing but open, honest interest on her face. “What object in your collection has the richest history?”
She watched as Lord Vey scratched his chin in thought, his other hand absentmindedly reaching for the sash tied at his waist. A beautiful jeweled sword was hanging off the fabric, but that was not what drew Lysette’s attention. She noticed that he fingered a ring of keys next to the sword. There were three brass, two silver, and one that was as black as onyx.
There it was.
There was no mistaking that that was the key that Daevrin sent her and Ladro to steal. Suddenly, the small orchestra at the front of the room settled into its seats and began to play. Lysette could’ve collapsed in thanks at the sound. This was going to be too easy. Lord Vey bowed deeply to her and extended his hand. “May I have the honor of your first dance, Lady Mariel?”
She took it. Luckily, she knew this dance. Ladro had been painstakingly teaching her dancing and etiquette for the past two months in preparation for this night. She eyed the guards at the edge of the dancefloor as he guided her through their waltz. She counted eight of them around the massive ballroom, but had no doubt more lurked throughout the house.
Lord Vey gave a soft, satisfied laugh. "An object in my collection that has the richest history? You ask dangerous questions, my Lady. Some items are rich in blood, others are rich in age, and then some are rich in the number of fools that died in the pursuit of it."
His eyes flickered toward the gallery doors at the back of the ballroom.
"There is a crown in my possession. It's an ugly little thing, half-burned and salt-stained. Most people would walk right past it in favor of the gilded angel's feathers I have in my collection. It was dug out of a remote temple that never officially existed."
Lysette tilted her head. "And unofficially?"
Lord Vey leaned into her and smiled wolfishly. "And unofficially, it is believed to belong to the Lord of Death."
His hand rested at her waist. His other hand held hers, wet and clammy. They parted for a moment to promenade across the dance floor, and she got a closer look at the ring of keys. It was fastened to the sash by a delicate gold chain. Of course, Lord Vey wouldn’t have something stronger holding the keys because who would dare to rob him in his own home? Ignorant man. She smiled sweetly as they came back together and continued their dance. She stepped closer to him than the dance required, and she watched as his gaze slid to her mouth. That was all she needed. Her hand traveled lightly down the sleeve of his elegant coat before coming back up to rest at the back of his neck.
“Your mask suits you.” Lord Vey said softly. She knew he was going for a sultry tone, but it came across as unsure.
“Does it?”
“Yes, it brings out the silver in your eyes.”
She smiled at the flattery before purposefully stepping on the man's toes. Her hand flew to his waist as she righted herself. The slip was small enough to be mistaken for her catching her balance, and the man steadied her, his arm tightening around the curve of her ribs. The keys slid into her palm, and when she pulled away from him, she pulled lightly. Delightedly, the chain snapped, and the keys slid into her palm. She waited a heartbeat to see if he would notice, then took a deep breath. She knew the movement would push her breasts up and watched as Lord Vey looked down at her chest. He looked like he was about to say something when a shout was heard from the card table.
"My Lord," Ladro said across the ballroom. His voice was just loud enough to carry over the sound of music and revelry. "I believe your cousin is cheating."
The crowd went silent, and all eyes flicked to the card table. Lord Vey turned from Lysette briefly to glare at Ladro. When he looked back at her, he seemed unsure whether he wanted to pursue her or the disturbance at his soirée. Another man at the card table shot to his feet. That must've been the cousin.
"You'd better see to your guests," she peered up at Lord Vey through her lashes. He was fixated on her face, and she very carefully slipped the ring of keys into her glove.
He straightened, resigned to walk away from her, ever the host. As he began the walk to the card table, she saw his shoulders stiffen. Ladro was in for it. She made eye contact with him and saw him whisper something to the Countess next to him. The lady giggled into her fan, and she saw the Lord's cousin turn bright red. If Ladro made it out of here tonight without getting punched, it would be a miracle.
Lysette strolled to the edge of the dance floor and spied the room lazily. She passed a servant with a tray of champagne and nodded kindly to the man. He pressed a glass of the sparkling liquid into her palm, and she brought it to her lips to sip.
Lysette lingered near the edge of the ballroom, champagne glass balanced lightly between her fingers. She had no intention of drinking anymore tonight; she had to keep a clear head. The music resumed after only a brief moment. The Lords and Ladies in attendance were surprisingly good at pretending that nothing else was happening in the ballroom. Across the room, Lord Vey was attempting to separate his furious cousin from Ladro.
Ladro looked delighted.
Lysette set her champagne glass down on a passing tray. Her reflection flashed at her from the mirrored walls surrounding her. Lady Mariel looked calm and rich. Lysette felt like neither. She adjusted her gloves and drifted toward the gallery doors that Lord Vey had glanced at during their dance.
You see, the trick to stealing wasn't speed; it was belonging. Servants hurried because they were busy and needed. Guards hurried because something was wrong. Nobles wandered wherever they pleased. So Lysette wandered. The gallery stretched beyond the ballroom like the throat of some yawning beast. Marble statues lined both walls, and candlelight gleamed against the flashing mirrors. Portraits of long-dead Veys stared down at her from their gilded frames with varying degrees of disappointment.
Beyond the hallway, two enormous glass doors stood waiting. She could see the various displays that Lord Vey had collected over the years. Most of it was junk; bleached swan feathers dipped in gold and passed off as angel feathers, weapons with no significance, and books that told skewed histories of the gods. There was one item, though, that stood out amongst the fakes. This item was very real and valuable. Lord Vey was right when he said it was the most interesting thing in his collection. She could just see the crown in a narrow glass case towards the back of the gallery.
Lysette glanced over her shoulder down the hallway and was glad to see that it was still empty. She slid the ring of keys out of her glove and tried one of the brass ones in the doors. A mechanical click sounded in the empty air, and she waited a minute to see if anything would happen. There was no shouting or sound of footsteps, so she ducked into the gallery and locked the door behind her.
The sound of the ballroom and revelry disappeared. Not muffled but completely silent. Through the glass, she could still see the distant movement of servants crossing the gallery hall, but she could hear nothing. Not the orchestra. Not the conversation. The room had been silenced.
The gallery was larger than it appeared from the outside. Glass cases were arranged under pools of candlelight. She examined a jeweled dagger as she passed it and fought a laugh at the obviously fake rubies decorating the hilt. How embarrassing for Lord Vey. How anyone believed these relics were real was beyond her.
The crown rested alone inside the glass case, and for a moment, Lysette wasn't certain it was a crown at all. Thin branches of silver twisted together to form a delicate circlet. Some curved gracefully upward, while others ended in sharp points resembling thorns. Smaller branches grew from the larger ones, wrapping around each other in patterns that seemed too irregular to have been planned and too perfect to have happened by accident. There were no hinges, no seams, and no marks from a hammer or chisel. Nothing to suggest mortal hands had ever shaped it. It looked as though someone had taken the branches from a silver tree, bent them into the shape of a crown, and simply waited for them to grow together.
Time had not been kind to the crown. Much of the silver had tarnished nearly black, and fire had scorched several of the branches, leaving dark stains that climbed the metal. In some places, the heat had been powerful enough to soften the silver and melt branches together, leaving behind thick knots that resembled old scars.
There was salt damage as well. She had spent enough time around docks, shipwrecks, and smugglers to know what years beneath the sea could do. The silver was pitted with corrosion, and pale deposits clung stubbornly to the narrow spaces between the branches. Small clusters of circular scars marked the underside of the circlet where barnacles had once attached themselves to the metal. Someone had attempted to clean the crown, but whoever had done it had been either impatient or incompetent.
"What happened to you?" She whispered.
At the highest point of the crown sat a single jewel. Unlike the chaos of the crown around it, the jewel was untouched. It was shaped like a star, though not the simple five-pointed stars children carved into wood. Dozens of narrow points radiated from its center, forming an uneven celestial shape held between two curling branches. The jewel appeared almost colorless until Lysette shifted her head and caught something moving beneath its surface.
Tiny flecks of silver and gold floated with the jewel. They didn't appear trapped inside it. They moved slowly, drifting through depths that shouldn't have existed in a stone no larger than the end of her thumb. For one strange moment, staring into the jewel felt like looking through a window. Beyond the gallery, beyond the city, beyond the world, Lysette thought she could see stars. Thousands of them drifted through an endless darkness.
Lysette blinked, and the vision vanished. "You're an ugly little thing, aren't you? Let's see what you're hiding."
She removed her gloves and tucked them into the neckline of her dress. Lysette pressed two fingers to the marble floor. She closed her eyes, and the world changed color. Magic was never invisible to those who knew where to look. It lingered in stone and in blood. It lingered in objects touched by the gods.
Lysette hooked her fingers against the fabric of reality and pulled. Threads appeared. Thin strands of magic spread throughout the room. Some were golden threads of divine sorcery. Others were silver threads of infernal glamour. And then there were the threads of deepest purple. Those belonged to humans fortunate enough to be blessed with their own magic. They stretched between objects and the walls, twisted through the marble floor, and disappeared into the ceiling.
Lysette studied them carefully. One thread wrapped around the doors, the silencing spell. Another wrapped around a golden chalice, a preservation spell. Several objects carried traces of old magic, nothing that seemed dangerous. Her eyes drifted to the crown. Nothing.
"No wards?" Lysette whispered in disbelief. That seemed unlikely. Lord Vey was an idiot, but even idiots occasionally hired competent people. She searched once more, but the case remained clean. She took a deep breath and released the spell. The magical threads vanished from sight, and Lysette looked at her surroundings.
She closed her eyes to gather her courage and inserted the black key into the lock of the case. It sprang free, and she lifted the glass case with ease. Her fingers closed around one of the silver branches, and she gasped. Cold tore through her hand. This wasn't the ordinary cold of metal left untouched in a dark room. It sank through her skin and settled deep inside her bones, carrying with it the crushing weight of deep water and the suffocating stillness of earth packed over a grave.
The jewel moved, and Lysette froze. The points of the star curled inward. Slowly, almost delicately, they folded toward one another. The surface of the jewel trembled before splitting down the middle, and Lysette watched in horror as the star opened. An eye stared back at her. The iris was neither human nor animal. Silver and molten gold bled together around a pupil so black it seemed to swallow the candlelight. Fine veins spread across the pale surface of the eye, disappearing beneath the remaining points of the star.
The eye blinked, the pupil contracted, and the eye focused on her. Something seized Lysette behind the ribs and pulled her. The floor fell away from underneath her, and the gallery vanished. She had the feeling of tumbling through the air. One moment, she stood beneath Lord Vey's candlelight. Next, she stood somewhere else.
It appeared to be a throne room. Lysette could not see its walls. They disappeared into darkness so complete that she could not tell where the chamber ended. Towering columns of black stone rose around her, vanishing into a ceiling hidden by shadow. Silver veins ran through the floor beneath her feet, branching across polished stone like cracks in ice. Wind moved through the chamber; Lysette felt it against her face. That was impossible; they were underground. She didn't know how she knew that she just did.
Somewhere beyond the open side of the throne room, a vast darkness stretched farther than she could see. Mountains. Lysette turned, and a throne stood behind her. It was made of black stone and silver. Ancient, it was so ancient. It sat atop a shallow platform reached by three wide steps. The throne was empty, but someone knelt before it.
It was a man; she could see only his back. His head was bowed. Blonde hair fell across the nape of his neck, pale beneath the candlelight. He was dressed in black, not the black of mourning or expensive velvet. He wore armor. Dark metal covered his shoulders and arms, etched with lines of silver that caught the light whenever he breathed. A crown rested on his head. Lysette stared at it. It was not the crown in her hands. This one was simpler, just made up of black metal and sharp points. A thin line of silver ran through the center of it. The crown of a king.
Then she saw the wings. They stretched across the floor behind him. Enormous. Dark feathers disappeared into the shadows around them, and Lysette stopped breathing. An angel, no, something more. She didn't know how she knew that the knowledge simply settled into her bones. The man was powerful, terribly so, but he was kneeling to that throne.
She stepped backward, and the sound echoed through the throne room. The angel lifted his head but still didn't turn to face her. Silence filled the chamber, then he spoke. His voice was low and painfully familiar even though she was sure she had never heard it before.
"I found you."
Something terrible twisted inside her chest. Greif. Grief so deep that for one impossible moment, Lysette thought it might tear her apart. She knew him. She had loved him. She had lost him. None of those things had happened. Not yet.
The gallery slammed back into existence, and Lysette dropped the crown. It struck the velvet lining of the case with a delicate metallic sound. The eye closed immediately, its edges unfolding until the many-pointed jewel returned to its original shape.
"Absolutely not." Lysette stepped back in horror.
Suddenly, she heard muted voices. The sound was approaching, and Lysette's gaze drifted towards the glass doors. Two shadows danced across the hallway outside, and Lysette sighed. Weariness seeped into the marrow of her bones, and she wished that she were somewhere safe and warm. Daevrin had promised her three hundred gold pieces. She considered the approaching guards, the crown, and the possibility of simply leaving the entire miserable job behind.
The door handle moved, and Lysette decided it was time to go. She reached into the case and grabbed the crown. The star opened its eye, but this time Lysette didn't drop it. She wrapped the crown in the nearest piece of velvet and shoved it against her chest.
She picked up the gaudy jeweled chalice in the display beside it and threw it against the closest window. The weight of it shattered the glass, and Liz shielded her eyes from the force of it. The sound of the door handles rattling sent adrenaline pulsing through her veins. The air surrounding her crackled, and she danced on the balls of her feet, willing herself to make a run for it. Her magic could save her from a fall from this height. It would probably cost her a broken bone or two, but she would survive. Her courage wrapped around her like a shield, and she threw herself out of the broken window. Just as she was about to clear the stone ledge outside the window, something caught her arm. Her body jerked, and pain shot up her shoulder and wrenched her wrist. She almost dropped the crown but held onto it fast.
Ladro was hanging off the ledge above her, wearing fighting leathers and a self-satisfied grin. She couldn't see it because he was wearing his thief's hood and mask, but she knew he was grinning. Somehow, he had had time to change. He had caught her wrist as she had flung herself out of the window and saved her from plummeting into the bushes and her magic below.
"It's about damn time." She ground the words out through clenched teeth as he began to haul her up onto the ledge next to him.
"Don't gripe at me," Ladro sounded scandalized at the thought. "My job was to be a distraction and to get you out of there. As far as I'm concerned, Liz, my job is done."
"You almost caused a duel in the ballroom!"
Ladro waved his hand in front of his face dismissively, "And it worked, didn't it?"
He reached down with one of his daggers and shortened the skirt of her dress. "Get ready to run, there's two guards at the door, one around the corner, and two making rounds every ten minutes."
Lysette blinked. "You counted patrols?"
Ladro stood to his feet and balanced on the cornice fixed to the wall. "Daevrin said if I didn't contribute, he'd stop paying me."
"That doesn't sound like Daevrin."
"No," Ladro sighed. "But he sounded convincing at the time."
Despite herself, Lysette smiled. Ladro hopped from the ledge and landed on one of the balconies below them. The night was dry and humid, and Lysette was thankful that it wasn't raining. She leapt from the wall and stumbled as her feet hit the balcony. Ladro grabbed Lysette by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall. She opened her mouth to protest, but he covered it with his palm.
Footsteps moved across the floor above them. Ladro held a finger to his lips, and Lysette glared at him before she bit his palm. He jerked his hand away and shook it out.
"You little-"
The balcony doors above them flung open, and it was her turn to cover Ladro's mouth. Light spilled across the stone and obscured them further into the shadows. The sound of boots scraping against broken glass filled the silence around them. Lysette slowly removed her hand from his mouth.
"Someone was in the gallery. Alert Lord Vey." The voice of a guard drifted down to them.
"You bite," Ladro whispered.
"You deserved it." Lysette hissed back.
A guard leaned over the balcony above them, and they both froze. Lysette could feel Ladro's fingers digging into her wrist. The guard looked down at them, and Ladro swore loudly.
"They're here!" A guard exclaimed.
They jumped without thinking, and Lysette's stomach dropped. They fell past another row of windows, and Ladro released her wrist. He caught the stone railing of the balcony below them. His body slammed against the wall, but Lysette continued falling.
"Ladro!"
His other hand shot out, and he caught the back of her dress. The fabric tightened painfully beneath her arms. For one horrifying moment, Lyesette hung three stories above the gardens by the remains of a very expensive gown. There was a ripping sound, and Lysette looked up, terrified.
"Ladro." She said. A hint of uneasiness was beginning to creep into her voice.
"I hear it." Ladro bit back.
"Ladro!"
"I'm thinking!"
The fabric of her train tore, and Lysette began to tumble through the air. She threw out her arms, and she could feel the magic burst from her. The air beneath her thickened and swelled. Not enough to stop her, but enough to slow her down. She crashed through the branches of a hedge. Leaves exploded around her as she hit the ground. Hard. For several seconds, she stared at the sky. Luckily, enough of her dress was still intact to cover her. That was one small blessing. Ladro landed beside her on his feet.
Of course he did.
He looked down at her and lowered his mask. He was smirking down at her, and she wanted to punch the stupid smug grin off his face.
"Comfortable?" He chuckled.
"I hate you," she said through clenched teeth.
"You say that frequently."
"There they are!" The shouts of guards could be heard above them, and Lysette groaned.
"Just help me up so we can get out of here!"
Ladro helped her to her feet, and she winced in pain. A bell began ringing from somewhere inside the estate, and Ladro swore. Ladro grabbed her arm and began to run as lights flickered on inside the windows behind them.
Lysette barely managed to keep hold of the crown as he dragged her through the gardens. Behind them, doors flew open, and guards spilled onto the terraces. They ran as fast as they could, and soon they reached a garden wall. It was nearly twice Lysette's height. Ladro didn't slow down. He stepped onto a stone bench, planted one foot against the wall, and caught the top. He pulled himself over in one single swoop.
"Ladro!" she hissed into the darkness and saw his head appear over the wall. "Some of us weren't raised climbing out of noblewomen's windows."
"You should try it sometime."
A shout came from behind her, and Lysette turned in time to see three guards running toward her. Their swords were drawn, and she swallowed thickly.
"Move out of the way," she said to Ladro.
She thrust both hands forward, and power surged through her. The pebbles beneath her feet began to rattle and rise into the air. Purple threads twisted up her arms and neck, and she dug down into her mana. She seized the space between herself and the top of the wall and pulled. The world lurched, and Lysette vanished. She reappeared above the wall and collided with Ladro.
They crashed into the alley across the street, and for several seconds neither of them moved as they righted themselves. Then Ladro groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. "We have horses two streets over; we need to get out of here."
"You brought horses?" Lysette asked in disbelief.
"I planned ahead."
For just a moment, Lysette stared at him like he had grown two heads. "Who are you and what have you done with Ladro?"
"I'm someone who Daevrin threatened to stop paying, remember? Come on!"
They took off at a sprint and began to navigate their way through the narrow streets. The wealthy district was quieter than the rest of the city. Carriages stood abandoned outside grand houses and streetlamps burned behind glass. Their footsteps echoed against the stone as they made their way towards the poorer districts and the thief's hideout.
A/N: The goal is to update once a week. We will see if I stick to that schedule.
