The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

for hire, it would be even quicker and much less painful, but, despite the fact that I’ve actually brought along my purse today, I don’t see any carriages.

“No one should bother you on a main road. Just promise me not to leave the road.”

“You’re worried about snatchers?” I ask, taken aback. Almost, I tell her, I’m a cripple. I’ve always been safe. Snatchers only ever take able-bodied children. I can still remember the town mothers mentioning as much to my mother when I was small, a consolation for having such a child. I also remember Mama descending upon her would-be supporters with a blistering rage that left them careful of her—and me—for years.

“There’s other trouble too,” Sage says now, her voice hard and brittle.

“True enough,” I agree carefully, watching her. “I’ll keep to West Road.”

“You’ll discuss the laws, and the need for guards, with the princess?”

“Of course,” I say. And somehow, I’ll find another way forward as well.

Chapter

17

I make slow headway along West Road, my foot aching. The streets are quiet—not empty by any means, but there appears to be a slight lull now, in the midafternoon. It would be a pleasant walk if I were in less pain.

“I am curious about your foot,” a voice says at my shoulder.

I nearly jump out of my skin. Artemian’s companion reaches out a hand to steady me, laughing softly. Artemian himself, though, is nowhere to be seen. It takes a moment for my breath to return, and for the stab of pain through my foot to ease. But the man just raises his brows, awaiting my response.

“Good afternoon to you too,” I say with a note of sarcasm. I wiggle my elbow in his grip.

“It is,” he agrees, letting go. “Though there will be an even better one next week.”

“What?” I ask, bewildered.

“The final wedding procession,” he clarifies. “The nobles will leave their handsome villas with only a skeleton guard. They’ll need an escort to get through the streets, you see, and everyone among the staff who can escape for it will do so as well. That will be a lovely afternoon.”

“You’re going to rob them?” I ask despite myself, well aware that he’s playing me, checking to see how much I know about him and his associates, and how much I’m willing to let pass.

“We must all be true to our callings,” he says. “A thief must, on occasion, thieve, and a royal attendant must, on occasion, walk through the city streets in pain.”

I stiffen.

“I know what pain looks like,” he says quietly. “What I’m curious about is what happened, and why you haven’t had your ankle looked at. Or is it your foot?”

He has no right to ask such a thing. “Whatever it is, it’s not your concern.”

“Perhaps. I can’t agree if I don’t know, can I?”

“You don’t need to agree,” I snap, and start forward.

He matches my pace, an easy enough feat when every other step feels like I am setting foot in scalding water. It’s just a question of him walking slowly enough.

“When I told Artemian I was following after you, he didn’t think you’d be easily impressed. Even if I used my best manners.”

Oh, indeed. If these are his best manners, he must have grown up in a ditch. “Since Artemian didn’t mention who you are, I don’t see any reason to mention anything to you.”

The man laughs and, catching my hand, tugs me to a stop and sketches a bow. “Bren, at your service.”

I wriggle my hand free, immediately disliking this carefree, affable persona he’s projecting. It seems far less genuine than the smug, observant young man from earlier today. “Bren, is it? And you’re, what, one step above Artemian?”

“Not precisely.”

“So why were you telling him how much to tell us?”

Bren grins appreciatively. “You’re a sharp one.”

“Why, thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” I start walking again. Once again, he falls into step with me. He’s here for a reason, and it would behoove me to humor him. But I can’t think why, if he had something to say, he wouldn’t have done it at the inn.

“Come now, people will think I’m bothering you,” Bren says. “Especially when you glower like that. We can trade questions and answers if you like.”

Fine, then. “Why are you walking with me?”

“To learn why an attendant would choose to walk around in pain, and . . .” He pauses, waiting.

“And?” I finally prompt. I am doing this for the snatched, I remind myself. And Alyrra. If he does have something to share, I need to play along to get it out of him. Even if he’s asking questions I don’t want to answer.

He smirks. “Tell me what I want, and I’ll tell you.”

I stop and look at him. He is half a head taller than I, slim and handsome, with a thick tail of hair pulled back. More than anything, he is young. Quite possibly as young as I am, which makes it interesting indeed that Artemian would obey him. “Who are you really?”

He tsks sadly, shaking his head. “We’ll never get to any answers if you keep asking questions.”

My lips twitch upward involuntarily. His eyes glow in response. No. I’m not amused by him. I won’t be taken in by this act of his, even if I have to play along. I take a breath. “Very well. I wore a pair of new shoes yesterday that didn’t fit properly. I’m not going to let a few blisters stop me from my work.”

“Blisters only?” he asks, confused. But then he can’t see the shape of my foot beneath my skirt, the particular way my riding boot is made, and there is no reason I can think of that I need to explain myself to him.

I raise my chin. “I’ve answered your question; it’s time you answered mine. Who are you really?”

“Just what you said,” he replies, mischief lighting his eyes again. “And just as clever as you.”

“Oh? Just that?” I echo dryly, utterly underwhelmed by the