Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

CRUX

W ith my legs slung sideways across the wooden chair I have dubbed my throne, I narrow my eyes on the man before me. “Are my little rats telling me that Alyx, my Alyx, was seen defending a nobleman in Christ Church?”

The sly man swallows hard, his beady eyes dropping to the slick stone before him. The lanterns glow brightly from their fixings on the wall, spread evenly around the circular room we use for meetings. I can hear the jubilant laughter of those coming back after a successful night of thieving, heading into the handmade bar to celebrate or to the traders’ stalls to sell their goods. The last thing anyone wants to do after thieving is keep whatever they just stole. If they sell it as soon as possible, it gets the suspicion off them. The traders all know what they buy is stolen, but they can’t afford to turn down something that will make them fast money.

All the thieves are mine, and down here, under the lands of Dresha, lies a whole other world—a world I created, and one I am the ruler of.

My Daggers.

Everyone forgot about the tunnels running under their precious city or thought they were disgusting and useless since their sewage flows through some. That just made them perfect for us, though, becoming our safe haven that no one dares to venture near. Those who have been rejected and shunned by the world above now have somewhere to go, and it’s our sanctuary.

I am the thief king or, as many of them call me, devil.

If I am the devil, then Alyx is my reaper, my collector of souls.

“Yes, my king, I am sure of it. We were listening in the market.” There are different types of people who serve me and live down here in our little family—assassins, thieves, and rats. We need them all to survive. My little rats tell me all the secrets. They overhear everything, looked down on by everyone so much that they become invisible. “We saw it.”

“Leave,” I grumble, my eyes going far away. They don’t protest, scurrying away like the rodents they are named after. Everyone knows not to mess with me when I’m in a mood like this.

Alyx wouldn’t protect a nobleman without a reason. I know there will be an explanation behind her unusual actions. I shall have to ask her when she returns.

As if my thoughts conjure her, I see her familiar silhouette as she drops onto one of the stone bridges from the entrance above, and I watch as she prowls right towards me.

As usual, the air in my lungs freezes at her mere presence, and my heart skips a beat as she tears down her hood and mask, letting me see the face I know better than my own. I don’t have dreams often, but when I do, she’s in every single one of them.

She bows mockingly before me, her eyes glistening with mirth. “My king.”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back. “My little rats tell me you saved a nobleman in the market at Christ Church.”

Straightening, she heads my way, throwing herself across my lap. My hands reach for her automatically, uncaring about the dried blood and mud flaking across her. I would bathe in it to touch her, but I pretend to be disgusted by it. Nose wrinkling, I hide my action by plucking at her cloak. “You are filthy.”

“Just the way you like me.” She winks, making my chest tighten and my brain start to play out various scenarios of helping her get clean. I force myself to focus as she lifts a pouch and a solid gold necklace from one of her pockets. “Taken as a fee from said nobleman.” She grins widely. “I was bored.”

“Of course you were.” I sigh, fingering the gold and weighing the sizable piece of jewellery. “This is far too unique to sell around here, so you may as well keep it.”

Grinning, she slides the necklace around her neck, letting it fall against her black leather corset. “As my king orders.” She leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’m going to bathe and sleep.”

She takes off, leaving just like she entered my life—as a whirlwind.

My hands are clenched into fists to maintain the heat and feel of her body as I swallow and watch her go, wondering if she knows how much she affects me. What would she do if I kissed her? I may be the king of assassins, but I’m like a child shaking with fear when it comes to telling her how I feel. Instead, I sit here and wonder if, after all these years, she feels the same way I do.

She is the reason my heart beats.

Does Alyx love me the way I love her?

Could she ever?

Once more, I am too cautious to ask her, afraid of losing the only good thing in my life since I found her in a bloodstained dress seven years ago.