Master of One

by Jaida Jones

The sorcerer continued, “We’ll kill you if you don’t agree to our proposal.” “I agree to your proposal,” Rags said.

Maybe Morien really couldn’t read minds. Why bother? He could shred hearts.

It was a maze. A fucking fae maze, made of fucking fae glass, with a fucking fae reflection giggling like a madman at him from the darkness. Rags was going to compose a new lullaby poem inspired by the fae. It started like: Fuck the fucking fae forever. Spelunk in their fae caves never.

It looked, Rags thought, like a lumpy snake. But seeing as how it was a magic river beast that operated with indescribable power, he didn’t want to insult it.

A fae fucking prince, so devoted to Rags’s scrap of a life that he’d surrendered to a sorcerer without a hint of resistance.

“I could barely see you in the aberrant dark.” “I’m fine,” Rags muttered. “I don’t disappear when the lights go out.” “You are no Lying One,” Shining Talon agreed. “But a thief may vanish when it suits him.”

He had to want something. Couldn’t be looking at Rags simply because he liked what he saw.

Rags crossed his arms over his chest, feeling foolish as he did it. It wouldn’t help him hide. “Stop looking into my soul,” he instructed bleakly.

Later, Rags rode up alongside Cab and asked if he thought sheep were evil. “Not particularly,” Cab replied. “You’re

The instant Rags stepped out the front door, Shining Talon was there at his side like a late-afternoon shadow, if a shadow could glow more golden than the thief who cast it.

Like he’d forgotten the shit they were in, Shining Talon touched Rags’s throat, painfully merciful, to satisfy himself that it was unharmed.

Rags did what he did best and changed the subject.

Literally Me

Deflection time.

I am in this book

Sure, Rags had been a kid with no bedtime, but he’d also been a kid with no bed.

“Sure,” Rags found his voice. Grateful for the distraction. “Shining Talon here likes nature stuff. Might as well let him hug some trees.” “Trees,” Shining Talon said, “do not like to be hugged.”

“Are you well?” Rags didn’t realize how close Shining Talon had gotten until it was too late and there he was, fingers on Rags’s chin, glowbugs haloing him like a theater’s limelights. Rags tried not to go cross-eyed watching the bugs instead of Shining Talon.

“You are not as skilled in concealment as I would have guessed,” Shining Talon said, “for a thief.” “Say that to my face.” Rags tilted his chin up, breathlessly defiant. The furrow of confusion in Shining Talon’s brow slung a jolt of heat low through Rags’s belly. It also brought him to his senses. Whatever he was entertaining, he needed to stop. Shining Talon took him too seriously, followed his whims too completely. “I am saying it to your face,” he replied.

Shining Talon nodded, though his gaze on Rags was piercing. Seemed pointed enough that he wanted Rags to know Rags wasn’t fooling him. He knew Rags was running away. He was letting him do it.

“Inis and I used to ride it together with one of my brothers and both of hers.” Her brothers, who were now dead. Rags had to say something, quick. “What’s something like that cost, anyway?”

But none of it was necessary, because one of the carousel’s menagerie had unhinged itself from its pole and was already winging its way over the water toward them. Not graceful. Lopsided. It had only one eye, and it was missing half a wing. Kind of matched Somhairle, Rags thought.

When Rags turned away, Shining Talon was there, facing him. “Gonna put a bell on you.” This close, Rags had to look up to meet his gaze.

For all that he had no real-world instincts, Shining Talon had figured it out. He’d figured Rags out.

At least there was hope for getting the mirrorglass out of Rags’s heart. But there were other things that had wormed into that organ because of this quest, more insidious things, and he didn’t know how to be rid of them.

“I had never imagined such experiences,” Shining Talon said. “Being with you is a marvel.” “Ugh.” Rags ignored the twist beneath his ribs that told him he was pleased. “You ruined it.”

“Am I causing you pain?” Shining Talon asked. “Yeah. Don’t stop,” Rags replied.

Only Laisrean ever appeared satisfied when he looked at Somhairle. Like he was glad for who Somhairle was, instead of thinking about what he might have been.

Everything, good and bad, got snatched away in the end, since time was the greatest thief of them all.

Their fingers interlaced like a key turning in its lock, the bolts sliding seamlessly into place. Rags stared at the ceiling, aware of his palm pressed to Tal’s as they lay side by side. The fragment in Rags’s pocket warmed with approval. “You are exactly who I knew you would be,” Tal said, “from the moment I opened my eyes.”

Tal’s gaze was so bright, so trusting. Rags’s skin burned. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Just—want to make a name for myself by breaking into a royal and royally-fucked-up secret castle chamber and steal the Queen’s greatest treasure. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not for you.”

he was too busy looking after others to remember himself. Figured. That perfect idiot.

Daring as ravens, Rags reminded himself. But there was the second part. Rich as magpies. Tal was a treasure, just not the kind Morien and Lord Faolan had anticipated.