Page 36 of Stealing Tink

“Yes, and her integrity is the only reason I’m giving you two the option to walk out of here unscathed. But trust me, if I get a whiff that either of you have come within a hundred paces of the palace…”

“Yes, yes,” says the Nomad. “I’ve seen renderings of the queen’s gallows. Quite impressive, though you might tell her they need a touch-up. You can tell the red paint is peeling even from the renderings.”

The only thing about Acel that responds is his eyes, cutting to the side. A silent command for us to get walking.

We do, side-by-side, and though I’m convinced Acel is telling the truth, that he won’t arrest either of us, my heart sinks nonetheless. Stupid. I’d been stupid to tell him the Nomad’s plot. Stupid to offer him an alternative, a reason to come with us willingly. Of course, he’d never leave the princess’s side. Men like that will pine from a distance forever, if given the opportunity, dutifully allowing life to pass them by just to be within proximity to the woman they love.

But in the end, I couldn’t do it. I could have allowed the queen to believe that Acel had betrayed her. She was willing to let him drink poison for her, after all. I could have allowed him to suffer the public humiliation. He would have never paid for his crimes—the Nomad would have made sure of that.

I could have allowed Acel to suffer a great many things.

It was the princess I couldn’t hurt.

Betrayed by the man she loved—had loved for years, it seems. I couldn’t be the reason she believed he would have killed her only surviving relative.

The bitter taste of betrayal is still too fresh on my lips. Sure, the princess might think she’s tasting it now, with Acel’s refusal to be with her. But a refusal to persist in an impossible romantic entanglement is nothing compared to the man you love stealing what’s most precious to you.

If I weren’t so concerned with what Acel would think I was doing with my hands, I would caress my throat.

We’re passing the ballroom doors when the queen’s voice echoes through the slats. “And now, for one last announcement. I regret my late husband wasn’t here for this moment. He would have been so proud, but I suppose I will simply have to be proud for the both of us. I’m sure you are aware that tensions between Irethden and our neighbors have been high as of late. To be forthright, they’ve been strained since before the kingdoms’ recorded history. But tonight, we seek to put an end to this petty feud.

“Tonight, I am thrilled to announce that my daughter, Princess Aditai, is of the age to be eligible to marry. Over the course of the next year, we will be accepting suitors from the nobility, and by her next birthday, she will choose from among these suitors who will take her hand in marriage.”

Gasps escape from the ballroom. Behind us, Acel halts in place. I dare glance behind me. His dark brown skin has gone sallow, and though he stares straight ahead, his throat bobs.

“Something bothering you?” asks the Nomad. “Perhaps the odor in this hallway? Should we take a different route?”

I elbow him in the side, and he suppresses a yelp, but the Nomad’s comment seems to startle Acel back into reality, because he prods both of us in the back. “Keep moving.”

We do, winding down hallways, Acel’s breathing much too labored for a man of his physique simply walking down a hall.

When we reach the palace gates, I expect him to hand us over to the gate guards, warn them not to let us back in. But when the guards greet him, glancing skeptically at us—I suppose the head guard doesn’t usually make a point to escort rowdy guests out of the palace himself—he says, “I’ll be taking care of these two myself.”

We’re halfway into the city, and, from the look on the Nomad’s face, seconds away from him making a break for it, when Acel shoves us both into an alley. “I need three days,” he says.

The Nomad raises a brow, then looks to me for an explanation, as if I have any idea what that means.

“I know that rumors surrounding me are spectacular,” says the Nomad, “and trust me, most of them are true. But contrary to popular belief, I’m afraid I cannot extend one’s life. Although, now that you mention it, that would be an excellent business venture. After all, no one could prove when a person was actually supposed to die.”

Acel blinks at him, then shakes his head as if to drain his ears from the waterlog of the Nomad’s nonsense.

“It will take three days to appoint a new captain of the guard. I won’t leave the queen unprotected. Thankfully, I already have a successor in mind. Meet me at the Drowned Siren. Three days. If you don’t show, I’ll hunt you down.”

When Acel promptly turns the corner and leaves us, the Nomad leans over and whispers in my ear. “Is it me, or am I missing something?”

I hold out my hand, and he passes me the parchment and quill.

Acel is in love with the princess. But because of the marriage laws about intermarrying between classes, he can’t ask for her hand until he purchases a medallion.

“And how are we supposed to help with that?” asks the Nomad. “You do know how much a medallion of that rank would cost.”

I shrug, but before I can turn to walk away, the Nomad drawls, “Tink, you didn’t promise away my fortune, did you?”

I shake my head.

“Then what did you promise him?”

I turn back around and scribble on the pad. Nothing to worry about. We might just have to steal something extra while we’re getting my voice back and your artifact, that’s all.