Chapter One

Moira

Many a man made an easy mark, but none were so easily freed from their coin as the ones thinking about their cocks. The agora had been particularly rewarding today, filled with merchants and travelers as it was. All with coin and baubles for the taking with nothing more than a coy smile, honeyed words, and deft fingers.

The taverna was fairly quiet tonight. There were only four other patrons scattered about the long tables, most enjoying quiet conversation, light meals, and wine. The tavernkeep scowled at one man, too deep in his cups and too loud for the evening.

I fingered the drachma in my pocket, counting my spoils discreetly. Though some frowned on my profession, stealing was a difficult trade that required skill and discretion. I had learned to slip my hand over merchant tables, snatching up wares and disappearing before the missing item would be noticed. When I became too good at that, I practiced slipping byrsa, fat with coin, from unsuspecting hands and jewels from the necks and fingers of the wealthy.

I had become too good at my trade. The thrill and rush of a successful theft had ebbed over the years. It was the only way I knew to survive, so each day I went out and stole.

Despite my experience and prowess, I made a novice's error.

I allowed myself to become distracted by my spoils.

A large hand clamped down on my shoulder. I jumped, jostling my prizes. Several coins plunked against the wooden floor and rolled to gods know where.

"Hello, Little Thief."

My breath caught. His voice was slick and rich like olive oil slipping over the senses, but it somehow sent a chill up my spine. The man used his grip on my shoulder to spin me around.

He was impossibly beautiful, as was his companion. Their skin was flawless, seeming to glow with health and care. One set of eyes the color of honey, the other of rich soil bore through me. The man still gripping my shoulder had a look of smarmy satisfaction, though his peer leaned against the wall with the vacant eyes of boredom.

Good. Disinterest was good. It increased my chances of escape.

"I believe you have the wrong woman." My voice was clear and sure with the confidence of feigned innocence. To be fair, I did have a clear conscience, but that didn't mean I wanted to face consequences for my actions. Even as my heart raced in my chest, I maintained the well-practiced facade. Bravado would be the only means of escape.

"Oh, I think you're exactly who I'm looking for." He released my shoulder to cross his arms over his chest.

I fought to contain my panic. Though he no longer held me, I wasn't free to leave. That was clear. I dared not look at the door. Doing so would be another novice mistake. I was still internally kicking myself for the first.

"I'm afraid I am not. I am no more a thief than the tavernkeep," I huffed, gesturing towards the scowling man across the room. "My father will be here soon?—"

Tousled black ringlets bounced around his ears as the man threw his head back with a deep laugh. Much like his appearance, it was warm and charming, but unsettling. Something darker and perhaps callous lurked beneath the surface.

"I admire your dedication, Moira ."

By the gods . He knew my name. My real name.

Only I knew my real name.

"We both know there is no father waiting for you or coming to your rescue. Though I'm sure the sentries in the agora would love to hear about your activities today. A byrsa of coin, wasn't it? A necklace? And a gem?"

Dread twisted deep within me, coiling like a snake. "Why did you call me that?"

"A thief?"

"Moira."

"It's your name, isn't it?" He arched his brow. "A bit cruel of your mother to name you after Moirai and then abandon you to their whims. You managed well, however. You're an impressively skilled thief."

I snorted. "High praise from a man claiming to have caught such a thief."

He bristled for a moment, mouth pulling into a thin line. The expression was quickly replaced with a placid smile, even as his companion chuckled under his breath.

"Who are you?" I narrowed my eyes at the two. I had tired of this game.

"A messenger."

"Deliver your message, then."

"I didn't say I had a message for you . But I do have a job for you."

I waited, hating the mirth that danced in his gaze. The other man rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. Why couldn't this man have the same disinterest?

"I need you to steal something for me."

"No."

He shrugged, the shoulder of his exomis shuffling along his skin. "Then we go to the sentries. Even better, I'll parade you around the agora, returning your spoils to those who've lost them. I'm sure they'll be charitable in their response."

My teeth clenched so hard I feared they would break. Thieves weren't merely punished—we were killed. "Who am I stealing from?"

"A ferryman."

"What does this ferryman have that you desire?"

"A sack of coin."

I narrowed my eyes. It was never that easy. It's why I never took jobs for someone else. They were messy, fueled by others' emotions and motives. They almost always led to disaster.

I opened my mouth to reply, but his friend groaned. "Hurry up, Hermes. I have duties to attend to."

Hermes?

"A man named for the god of thieves dares to corner one? Do you not fear his wrath?"

It was the other man's turn to laugh. His entire body shook with the booming sound until he was wiping tears from his eyes.

Hermes scoffed and glared at him. "We both know your duties can wait, Dionysus."

I snorted. "Both named for the gods?"

"Will you take the job or face your fate?"

I sighed, shaking my head. It wasn't as if I had a choice.

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Perfect." Hermes slapped his hand back onto my shoulder. A lurching sensation pulled from my navel and rolled through my body. A balmy chill seeped deep into my bones as the world around me went dark.

"Here we are." Hermes released my shoulder, sending me stumbling forward. The sound of water lapping against a shore filled my ears alongside my ragged breathing as I tried to get my bearings.

Turning, I could see ghostly figures wandering along a marshy shore. Right past them, water sprawled for ages in a dark and cavernous space, all save for one lone boat with one lone being.

"Welcome to the Underworld," Dionysus muttered.

My eyes, wide with panic, bounced between him and Hermes, then to the hooded figure leaning against the push pole of the boat.

"We're not named for the gods, Moira. We are the gods." That terrible smirk was back on Hermes' face.

"A ferryman?" I growed under my breath. "You want me to steal from Charon ?"

"You will steal his obols or you will return to the mortal realm to face punishment for your crimes."

"You're supposed to be the god of thieves. Is this not betrayal?"

The piercing cold of his gaze made my breath seize in my lungs.

"I am not a man, as you insulted me earlier. I am the god of thieves, which means I may do with them as I please. I may do with you as I please."

Hermes turned from me to face the boatman in the distance, dismissing me as I sucked in a breath. He put a firm hand on my back and urged me toward the shore. "Charon, I have a passenger for you."

The figure turned to face us. Unlike most men in the mortal realm, Charon wore a chiton that draped to the ground; its sooty color matched the dreary surroundings. Around his shoulders hung a chlamys, but the odd garment had excess fabric that surrounded his head. It shielded enough of his face that his features were cloaked in shadow. Only his eyes could be seen, glowing from within. They were silver. The center had a thin golden ring, barely visible from the distance. The outer edge of his iris was bronze, containing the silver between the two warmer metal tones. They almost looked like coins in his eyes, as if obols themselves had settled within his body.

" That one is alive," he said in a bored rasp that slipped out between glinting, white teeth. Four of them were fang-like, elongated with sharp points—two from the top row and two jutting up from the bottom.

Hermes shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time."

He stared at Charon, seemingly awaiting a response, but the Ferryman watched us in silence.

Dionysus finally broke the quiet with a huff. "Hermes, I'm leaving."

" Fine , Dio." Hermes bunched his hands into fists at his sides with an exasperated sigh. "She's your problem now, Charon, at least until I return for her. I'm sure you'll be a good host."

With that, they were gone.

The conviction of my precarious fate settled into my body, every muscle screaming at the weight of the burden.

I had to steal from a fanged psychopomp—probably dying here by his hand—or return to the mortal realm a failed thief awaiting death.