Page 16 of Stealing Tink

“I think we’ve heard enough,” says Phoenix.

The Nomad holds out his hand to stop her chair as she begins to slide it outward. “Vulcan didn’t take just any woman to be a muse. Only the unique. The fascinating. The extraordinary.”

He lingers on that word, glancing at me. “That’s why he wanted you. That’s why he was searching for the faerie with a lost voice.”

The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I hadn’t been aware there was another bounty on my head. Although now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember being attacked by a man before Michael and I found Lady Whittaker. I’d assumed he was a harvester and had caught on to the fact that I was a faerie. Not that he had been hunting me down specifically. I’d fought back and managed to escape, but if he’s still out there…

The Nomad must glimpse the flicker of fear on my face, because he says, “Oh, don’t worry. We dispatched him.”

Relief floods my body. That’s one person I won’t have to be on the run from, at the very least.

“Nolan Astor dispatched him,” corrects Phoenix. “Quite graphically.”

“Technically speaking, yes,” says the Nomad. “But whose name and face are on the wanted posters with a bounty large enough to purchase a small continent?”

“Congratulations, you win that one,” says Venus, taking a sip of her drink.

But I circle back to what the Nomad was implying. The two of you have magic, don’t you? I write.

“No,” says Venus through her teeth, her answer clipped.

I stare at her, and then, without glancing down at the parchment, write my next note. But you used to. He took it.

“Yes, well,” says Venus. “Muses always give a part of themselves, don’t they?”

What kind of magic?

“Does it matter?” snaps Phoenix.

Okay. So not the sort to brag. Makes sense why the Nomad’s interested in these two.

“But he wouldn’t have just taken your magic,” says the Nomad. “He would’ve kept it somewhere. Stored it. Like a trophy.”

“If you’re asking where he stored it, we don’t know,” says Phoenix. “He might’ve told us many of his secrets, but never the ones that pertained to us. For some of the muses, their magic was precious, and they would’ve done anything to get it back, even if it meant triggering bounties on their heads.”

“But he would’ve kept your magic close,” says the Nomad.

“I don’t know,” says Phoenix with a shrug. “Probably. He liked to keep us close.”

“You’re not really thinking of trying to steal back our magic, are you?” says Venus. Her voice consists mostly of derision, but I don’t miss the glimmer of hope at its edges.

Neither does the Nomad, because he smiles. “Not for myself. For you.”

“No one’s that altruistic,” says Venus. “Especially not the Nomad.”

“That’s quite a sad way to think, don’t you think?” he asks. “But no, my motives aren’t entirely altruistic. In return for your magic, I need your assistance in retrieving a certain artifact.”

“What artifact?” says Phoenix.

“That’s none of your concern,” he fires back.

The two stare at each other for a long while before Phoenix breaks the silence. “And if you can’t manage to retrieve our magic?”

“Then we part ways,” says the Nomad.

The two women glance at each other across the table. Venus’s eyes are wide with pleading.

“We’ll think about it,” says Phoenix.