Poison Dance (Midnight Thief #0.5)(7)

He vaguely remembered that fight. A merchant and his friends had taken offense to one of Bacchus’s cracks, and James had come to his defense. “I didn’t kill anyone in that fight,” he said. It was better not to, if he wanted to continue to frequent the tavern.

“But you could have. I’ve seen my share of brawls. I know a good fighter from a bad one.” She spoke with the objective tone of a seamstress picking thread.

“So who is this mysterious nobleman?”

Her expression became guarded. “You’re not killing him for me. Just showing me how to use a knife.”

He’d thought her reckless, with the way she’d followed him into the alley last night. But perhaps he’d underestimated her. “How long have you wanted him dead?”

“Two years.”

“Did something happen two years ago?”

“Yes.” She didn’t volunteer any more information.

He shrugged. “Keep your secrets for now. One wallhugger’s the same as another to me. But if you really want me to teach you right, you’ve eventually got to tell me more. I’ll need to know how close you can get to him. If he’s guarded, and how well. If he’s trained with weapons. But right now, I want to know more about your connection with the caravans.”

She relaxed a bit at this new line of questioning. “I grew up with the trade caravans and traveled with them until a few years ago,” she said. “As you know, the Palace puts limits on what can be sold. It reserves some rare goods for itself by making it illegal to sell them to others in the city. I have friends though, who could be persuaded to overlook those laws.”

There was a knock at the door, and Thalia snapped her head to the sound. “That’s Rand and Bacchus,” said James. “Will you tell them the same thing you just told me?”

“Do you trust them?”

“With my life.”

She thought for a moment, then nodded.

Bacchus winked at Thalia as he came in, and Rand nodded curtly in her direction. She ignored Bacchus and returned Rand’s nod as James filled them in.

“What kind of rare goods?” asked Bacchus when James finished.

“Spices. Tapestries,” said Thalia.

“And what would we need to do? How long to set everything up?” asked James.

“You’d have to meet them outside the city and smuggle the goods past the city gates. After that, it’s up to you. You could have a run set up in three weeks.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” said Rand. He trailed off and gave Thalia a sideways glance.

Thalia gathered her skirts. “I can leave, if you’d like to talk things over.”

“Come back tomorrow,” said James. With the girl’s knack for picking up information, kicking her out now probably wouldn’t accomplish much. But they might as well keep the illusion of secrecy.

He waited until she stepped out to the street below before he turned back to Bacchus and Rand. “What do you think?”

“We’d need buyers,” said Rand.

“For spices, it’d be rich merchants or noblemen. But they’d definitely buy,” said James.

Rand bobbed his head in acknowledgment of James’s reasoning. “Three weeks to get the goods, another few days after that to wrap things up. Gerred’ll be suspicious if he sees us doing anything unusual. ”

“We keep it from Gerred,” said James. “He’d just assume the worst. Better if he doesn’t know our plans until we’re gone. If we play nice, I don’t think he’ll do anything rash in the meantime. He’s too careful for that.”

Bacchus straightened with a slap of his thigh. “Let’s do it. But we keep our options open. Maybe we’ll decide the privy’s worth going for after all.”

James gave a tight smile. “It’s always good to have options.”



*





He handed her a stiletto the length of her hand and molded her fingers around the handle. Her hands were slender and her nails were delicately rounded, though her palms were calloused. The two of them stood in the cramped space between his bed and the window, holding the blade between them.

“You can wear this dagger under your sleeves. Then, when you get your chance . . .” James guided the knife toward his own throat. “Go for the neck—the blood vessels and the windpipe. You’ll have to be close for that. Quick.”

He lowered the stiletto until its tip grazed his neck just above his collarbone. Her eyes widened, and she looked to his face.

He smiled and tightened his hands around her wrist. “Never let your guard down. Never trust anyone, and never leave yourself vulnerable.”

“What if I’d surprised you just now? I could have been sent by someone to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

She arched her eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have killed you?”

“You wouldn’t have surprised me.” He continued. “You have to be aware. If someone is this close to you, holding a weapon, you need to be on your guard. I’m watching your eyes, your shoulders. I’m aware of how you’re standing, where your balance is. If you tighten your muscles to strike, I’ll feel it in your arm. You should be doing the same with me.”

Her eyes were cautious as she took in what he said. And he watched her look down, taking in his arms, the angle of his chest. Her gaze went inward and her lips fell slightly open as she tried to get a feel for his balance. Standing as close as they were, he could smell a light perfume on her skin.