Page 53 of A Thief to Die For

‘But you said Daddy …’

‘Your father’s dead,’ she cried with a sob.

She had chanted that over and over the whole way home … until I believed it was true. Did she rewrite the story? Or did I invent it after she refused to talk about him after that day?

‘Anyway,’ he says, rubbing the gnarled stump at the end of his wrist. ‘I knew I had a kid somewhere. One about your age. Then you show up from a mystery place with my blue eyes, looking like the heart-stealing version of my brother who’s been dead for twenty years. Of course, you’ve got some of your mother in you, too.’

My gut knots as I stare at him, and there it is – all the proof I’m not going to find in my broken memories.

I have his eyes.

‘You need to remember, it wasn’t me who lied to you all this time, though.’ He chuckles, all too pleased with himself. ‘So no need to be a stranger now.’

I mutter a curse. Mum’s always been adamant that she didn’t want another partner, even though she had the connection. Can’t be trusted, she’d say about men. Yeah, I guess – if her experience was with Rufus. That’d also explain why she treated the connection like the plague. Both for her and for me.

Slowly, it’s sinking in that this is plausible – the way Rufus is telling it.

It means Mum lied.

Betrayal seeps into me, expanding like a sinkhole, until I look back at Rufus. The man just admitted to running from his lover, abandoning his baby, and coming back only to try to use them again.

I swallow hard. Can I really blame her for protecting me from him?

Maybe not back then, but I’m also not four years old any more. ‘I’ve … gotta go.’

‘Just be sure to let me know if you need any more supplies,’ he calls after me. ‘I’m your guy, especially now.’

I struggle to weave around people. Piles of burned rubble. Tables. I bump into a woman. Apologise. I need to get out of here.

‘Ryland,’ Agatha calls from behind me. ‘Ryland, wait.’ She grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. ‘Hey.’ Her eyes narrow. ‘What’s wrong?’

Where would I even begin?

‘Tell me.’

My mouth opens. ‘I just … met someone I thought was dead.’

‘And that’s not … a good thing?’

A choked sound slips past my lips.

‘Come on, let’s go to the pond and get cleaned up.’

Agatha dips her hands in the water, washing them.

I remain back, even though I’m the one who needs a bath. Two women and a handful of guardsmen swim about seventy-five yards away, closer to the waterfall. One jumps off a small rock ledge, but the sound of the crashing water smothers their laughter.

All of it chafes.

How long before Rufus sells what he knows about Kingsland? The location. The general idea of security. The connection.

I roughly scrub my face. He knows more than even our traders do. Although secrets getting out isn’t a new problem; a lot of people know something about Kingsland. Vagabonds stumble upon it all the time and have questions. Or they’ll attack. But not all of them are as organised or as highly motivated to conquer us as the Commander.

Agatha trips on a rock as she walks back to me. I grip her elbow, steadying her.

She exhales a laugh. ‘It’s slippery.’

I force a grin. It’s painful. Why am I even here?