Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(36)

“And what is that exactly? Your line of work.”

She gestured at herself, as if she were wearing a sign. “What do you think?”

“Thieving identities, I would think.”

The girl’s brows rose. “Among other things. . . . How would you know that?”

Alfie stared at her, annoyed. “You don’t recognize me?”

She looked at him blankly. “No.”

“You encased your fist with stone and punched me in the face.”

“Stone Fist is sort of my signature.” She shrugged.

“It happened two days ago.” When she only squinted at him, Alfie ground his teeth. Surely she recognized his voice. He couldn’t be that forgettable. “We’ve met before.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

“I do not,” he said. “It’s not possible for me to misrecognize you.”

She snorted. “That confident in your eyesight?”

“Yes,” he said, insistent. “I can see magic. I know yours. You were the one impersonating the woman at Rayan’s house. We fought after the cambió game.”

Her jaw went slack. Then her face pinched tight with anger. “If you hadn’t done whatever the hell you did to knock me out, I wouldn’t even be here! You pampered little son of a—”

“You might want to keep your voice down, if you want the cloak,” Alfie lied, knowing full well that they were too far into the closed wing of the palace for anyone to hear. Within the space of a breath, she closed the distance between them and held a dagger under his chin.

“How’d you do it?” she asked. “How did you magic my trump card in the alley?” Then she stared at him in disbelief, her shadow stilling. “Wait, you’re gonna let me have the cloak?”

Alfie sidestepped the question of his propio, raising his chin defiantly over the knife. “I will lend you the cloak—”

“Smartest thing you’ve said all day, I’m sure.” She lowered the dagger slightly. “How do you have the maldito authority to give it to me?”

“Lend,” Alfie corrected her tersely, his shadow snapping forward in annoyance. “It’s mine to lend.” He was lying through his teeth. His parents would have his hide if they knew about this.

She snorted at his words. “Yours to lend.” Then she cocked her head and scanned his face. “Wait, you’re the maldito prince, aren’t you?”

Alfie resisted the urge to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yes.”

“I punched a prince in the face,” she said, amused. “Never thought I’d say that.”

Alfie pressed on, his voice clipped. “I will lend you the cloak under one condition.”

The girl rubbed her temples with her free hand, looking too exhausted to appreciate the ease of the situation. “I’m getting really tired of conditions, Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be forgiving and obliging to maidens? Isn’t that what being a prince is all about?”

“You punched me in the face with a stone fist.”

“I repeat, forgiving and obliging to ladies.”

“Are you going to let me tell you my condition?”

She threw her hands up. “Yes, fine, what is it? What would you like, Prince? How may I serve you?” she said with a mocking caricature of a bow.

He’d never heard someone say prince in a way that made it sound like such an insult. At least not to his face. “You have the power to change your face and your whole body, yes? You can change everything.”

“Yes.”

“Can you do that to others?” he asked.

The girl blinked at him. “Sí.”

“Then once in a while I would like you to do that to me.”

“Change you?”

“Yes,” Alfie said. The books from the cambió game had yielded nothing useful, so he would commit to becoming king as he’d promised. But every now and again he would shed the weight of his legacy. He would be free, if only for a moment. Maybe that would be enough.

“You truly are out of a storybook. I expect you want to disguise yourself as a commoner and learn that true wealth is measured in love and friendship and other bullshi—”

“I didn’t ask for your commentary, thief,” he said, trying to match her wit. But she only gave him a crooked smile and he wished he could wipe it off her face, but getting her help was more important than his wounded pride. “Look, if you promise to help me, you can borrow the cloak to do whatever you need to do. I’ll be collecting it afterward.”

She crossed her arms, looking annoyed at the prospect of acquiescing to his request without more of a fight. He doubted she did much of anything without a fight.

“And if I just leave with the cloak now?”

“I will subdue you.”

When she looked unconvinced, he raised an eyebrow as if to say, Just watch me. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Alfie raised his hand slowly, not wanting to spook her into bringing out her dagger again. “Do we have a deal?”

She looked down at his hand, then up at his face.

“Deal,” she said, her lips curving into a grin. All teeth, no heart. A look that told him she thought him a fool and had no intention of returning the cloak. Just as he did with her trump card, Alfie looked forward to catching her unawares. He had her journal; that was all he’d need to find her again. They shook on the deal, her small hand gripping tighter than he expected.