Quill of Thieves

Chapter 43

What the actual Hel?

Matthias sprang to his feet and was across the room before his brain had fully registered the consequences of her blunt words. He appeared behind her chair like a harried phantom and smacked a hand over her mouth, forcing her loose lips shut.

He hissed into her ear. "Shut your damn mouth, girl!"

His heart slammed wildly inside his chest, which—Curse the Scribes—she could most definitely hear with these heightened senses of hers. Abel's eyes were strangely calm when she bent her neck to look up at him, her long lashes brushing the hairs of her eyebrows. Their gazes met and held, and then Matthias uttered a grunted yelp as Abel bit down on his middle finger. He made a grab for her shoulders, but she scrambled away, sliding out from underneath his hold and onto her feet. Although, perhaps scrambled wasn't the best way to describe how she moved. Her limbs stretched and leapt like a doe moved in a remembered wood. She even twirled, like a ridiculously graceful ballerina from the Halorian theatre until she was halfway across the room. One of her arrows was strung and trained on him before the sting in Matthias's bitten finger had subsided in the slightest.

Her eyes narrowed in defense, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in reprimand—the nerve of this girl!

"There was no need for the manhandling, Soiree. I told you I haven't peeped a word. Besides, you just gave yourself away with that extreme reaction, so why don't we stop this nonsense and be honest with each other?" She looked at the blood-sword he had unsheathed and grinned at its gleaming point. "Or we can fight it out. I've always wanted to beat your overly arrogant arse."

"You haven't a chance against this blade."

"And why's that? Because I'm a girl?"

"Because this is a blood-blade," Matthias said. "Once it tastes your blood, it will desire every last drop until you fall."

Her bow shifted, aiming for his sword's hilt. "Then it will only taste yours."

For a terse moment, they watched each other as if testing the other on who would break first. But Matthias was no longer a child, and he despised games.

"How?" He held his sword steady. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"You suck at your job." She flipped a knife in her opposite hand. Despite it being her less dominant one, her grip remained unyielding. "Did you think none of us would notice the way you disappeared in those tunnels so conveniently right before those fae arrived? Or how you found Sebastian and Astrid the moment that portal activated? Bash told me about it. You knew about portals. You got him out. So, tell me, were you the anchor for those hunky fae warriors?"

Matthias's lips thinned. "Prove it."

Abel laughed. "I think we both know I couldn't, but, like I said, I won't spill your little secret."

"Why?"

"I don't much trust the queen." Her bow lowered a centimeter. "Not after the second task. She used us as bait. Not to mention, she almost killed her own daughter. Though, I like Astrid as much as I love snakes. And, by that, I mean despise."

A breath escaped him. His blood-sword lowered, mimicking her own weapon.

Abel caught the motion and grinned. "So, you believe me?"

He grimaced. "The Elvish Folk don't lie."

It was her turn for her weapon to slip, but this time, it fell completely. Her small knife clattered to the ground, her bow bouncing off the floor at her feet. Matthias swore nearly as badly as Abel when the color bled from her cheeks. You damn fool. Weary, he watched as her eyes widened as large as two bronzite stones sinking in a storm at sea.