Little Thieves (Little Thieves, #1)

by Margaret Owen

Once upon a time, there was a girl as cunning as the fox in winter, as hungry as the wolf at first frost, and cold as the icy wind that kept them at each other’s throats. Her name was not Gisele, nor was it Marthe, nor even Pfennigeist. My name was—is—Vanja. And this is the story of how I got caught.

Because here’s the thing about stealing from people like the Count and Countess von Eisendorf: Odds are they deserve it. And instead of sitting around gathering dust, their riches can go to someone who deserves to be rich. (Me. That’s usually me.)

Little thieves steal gold, and great ones steal kingdoms, but only one goes to the gallows.

It turns out the keys to a child’s heart are weapons and card scams.

I can save her. Like she never saved me. And she and I both know I have absolutely no reason to do it.

I’m starting to wonder how many consecutive mornings the junior prefect is going to spend being bullied by sausage.

“You’re just mad I tossed you in the river.” “I think it’s reasonable to take issue with you nearly drowning me.” “Sure, but you’re not mad because you nearly drowned. You’re mad because you went to all that trouble to set a trap and stage your big triumphant reveal, and I still tossed you in the river.”

Just because you can survive without someone doesn’t mean they’re unwanted.

For the last year, I’ve only taken the pearls off when I want to go unnoticed. Unwanted. I know what I am without them. Until tonight, though, I have never felt so unlovely.

No. I am not coming out of this night grudgingly liking the smug bastard. I refuse on yet another principle (which is: There’s only room in this town for one smug bastard. That smug bastard is me).

I want him to stay like this. Close to me, touching my face feather-light, like I am something precious, I am worth taking care. Like I deserve to live without wounds, not despite them. I want this moment trapped in amber, so I can hold it tight when I need it most.

I want him to chase me. I want to know what it feels like to be caught. I want to burn with him.

“Depose the second-most powerful politician in the Blessed Empire of Almandy, who seems to have never-ending nightmare monsters at his disposal. Sure. Why not? How hard can it be?”

I want him to chase me, because it means I’m more than that. It means for once in my life, I am seen.

everything in me wants to run— To him. It was always going to end with him.

He has no reason to lie now. I can’t be wrong about him. I can’t be. Because if I am, I found someone I cared for, someone who knew my scars, someone who cared for a girl like me. And when he bared his throat to me, I answered with a knife. I made sure he will never trust me, never touch me again. I can’t be wrong. My fear can’t be wrong.

The absolute bastard. I’m—I’m going to—I’m going to save him, just so I can strangle him for making me cry again. I might kiss him first. But then I’m going to strangle him.

It’s a beautiful day in Minkja, and I am about to die.

He looks like he wants to kiss me. And a little like he wants to strangle me. We are meant for each other.