Prologue

PROLOGUE

For a royal vault, it wasn’t particularly well-guarded.

Well.

Maybe a little more guarded than other areas of the castle. Myth ducked into an alcove and hid behind the decorative statue, watching the guards walk past. They were talking to each other, not really paying attention to their surroundings. They were probably used to long, boring nights without any incidents.

Myth waited until his charm cooled down once more, indicating there were no people within twenty feet, and continued his way through the palace halls.

He’d donned clothes similar to other servants in the palace to blend in, but that wouldn’t help him in these more restricted areas. There was no reason for a servant to be going into the vaults late at night.

Myth’s lip curled into a sneer. He wasn’t a servant though, now was he?

At least, he wasn’t supposed to be. If his royal father acknowledged him as his son and paid him what he was due, he wouldn’t have to be doing this at all. He’d be able to clear all of his mother’s debts all at once, and have time to fucking breathe again.

After this heist, those wishes might come true after all. This was the big one, the score that would pay for everything. The royal vaults were sure to have enough valuable trinkets that even just a few would leave him set for life. Maybe King Eoghan kept important missives here too, ones that Eoghan’s enemies would pay good coin for…

Myth’s charm heated up again in his pocket. He grimaced, glancing around for a hiding spot. The only thing he found was a door leading to an unknown room.

He wasn’t a fan of unknown doors, but it didn’t sound like there was anyone inside. The door was locked, but between the small unlocking spell he knew and his own lockpicking skill, he got it open easily enough.

He’d expected a storage room of some sort. Instead, it was a large library, with ornate display cases set out. Myth’s eyes widened.

Forget the vaults. Scrolls would be easier to carry, and anything in these display cases would have to be valuable to somebody.

Unfortunately, his warning charm was only getting warmer, and he heard footsteps approaching. Myth pulled the door shut with a small silencing spell on the hinges, then glanced around the room. There weren’t any good hiding spots. The best was the dark space underneath the desk.

No time to think. Myth ducked under it and pulled the chair close, then pulled out another charm he’d brought along. It wasn’t an invisibility spell—Myth’s usual source of spells couldn’t produce them—but more of an… ignoring spell. As long as nobody bumped into him or stared directly at him, they wouldn’t notice him.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. Magic didn’t come cheap, and Myth’s own magical capabilities weren’t strong enough for more than a few minor spells here and there.

Unfortunately, the door creaked, and Myth activated the charm just as it swung completely open.

King Eoghan stepped inside, followed by a woman in distinctive sorcerer’s robes.

Fuck.

When Eoghan had kicked Myth out of the castle two days ago, that really had been the last time Myth had wanted to see the man. Nothing like his own father telling him he was worthless gutter trash to really win him over.

Was there a family resemblance? Myth tried to find himself somewhere in this man, but with his dark curls and tanned skin, Myth took after his Priyanese mother more than his Phassian father.

Eoghan was older than Myth’s mother by at least ten years. According to her, Eoghan had been very charming to her when she was a servant in this very castle. When it became clear she was with child, Eoghan had told her in no uncertain terms that she either disappeared on her own, or he would make her disappear.

Myth hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, but he’d hoped the threat of scandal would be enough to make Eoghan pay to make him go away.

He’d been wrong.

“You’re sure he’s gone?” Eoghan said to his companion. “I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.”

The sorceress shrugged. “I’ve done what scrying spells I could. He wasn’t in Naran anymore as of last night.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Are you sure of this?”

“Of course I’m sure. That bitch Elouise is trying to cut off my trade routes! And Priyana is allying with her. Between them and that fucking mess in Kithage—” Eoghan made a disgusted sound. “I’ve never seen a more disgraceful display in my life. It shouldn’t be hard to take over Kithage, with Larkin on the throne now.”

The sorceress snorted. “Except for the dragon.”

“Except for the fucking dragon,” Eoghan amended. “Except for the army of dragons.”

Myth blinked, more confused than anything. Dragons? What dragons?

“Well. The spells should be straightforward enough.” The sorceress walked over to one of the display cases. Her hand hovered over it, but she didn’t touch it. “It’s so beautiful. Hard to believe what went into creating it.”

“Dear ol’ granny was quite the sorceress.” Eoghan joined her by the display case. “It calls to me, sometimes. It wants to be used.”

The sorceress smirked. “Then let’s give it what it wants. I have a good lead on where the altar is. I’ve recruited more apprentices, too. The only thing left is…” She paused deliberately, seemingly waiting for something in particular.

Eoghan went to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a particularly heavy-looking tome. “As requested. My great-great-grandmother’s grimoire. Make the copies you need, but don’t damage it. I’ll have your hands removed if there’s a single new tear.”

How very charming. Myth had heard that Eoghan was an… understanding king, but apparently he didn’t bother being so nice in private—as he’d learned when he’d gone to confront him two days ago.

“Understood.” The sorceress delicately took the tome from Eoghan’s hands. “You understand that we might need your blood for this, Your Majesty?”

“My blood, my sweat, my hair—take whatever you need for it.” Eoghan said briskly. “I’ve waited long enough for this. My mother may have been content to be trapped between four kingdoms, but I’m not.”

“The idiot with an army of dragons had nothing to do with this?” The sorceress quirked a brow at him.

“You weren’t there. The way they breathed down our necks. The way they spoke of ensuring Larkin’s legacy. Treasure this and treasure that. I won’t risk Larkin deciding he wants more than his current piece of land.” Eoghan headed toward the door. “Come on. We’ve lingered here enough. I can feel my great-great-grandmother’s fucking ghost watching me.”

Myth shrunk back as far he could under the desk. It wasn’t a ghost Eoghan had sensed.

He didn’t dare breathe again until the sorceress and king had departed from the room, locking it behind them once more. He closed his eyes, counting to ten, then to twenty—then for good measure, to one hundred.

They didn’t return, and his warning charm started to cool down. He stood gingerly, and his curiosity brought him close to the display case Eoghan and the sorceress had been looking at.

The amulet inside was extravagant, beautiful, but it didn’t seem to be anything special at first glance. As he neared it, though, his skin prickled strangely. He didn’t ordinarily steal anything that was so unique; it was difficult to sell heirlooms that could be connected to a specific person. He didn’t plan to stay in Phassis, though. After this, he’d be out of the kingdom and far beyond Eoghan’s reach, and he’d drag his mother along whether she wanted it or not.

He eyed the necklace. The dim light glinted strangely off of the blood-red ruby set in the center of a circle of diamonds. He’d seen rubies before, but never one this deep and dark. There was just something about it that had him hesitating.

Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to steal. There were other trinkets in here, things that would probably be easier to sell, but the amulet kept drawing his gaze.

There was also the matter of King Eoghan wanting it so badly. If his father wanted it so much, Myth had every reason not to let him have it. With him talking about dragons, and taking over Kithage…

The bad feeling continued to grow as he stared at what should’ve been a pretty trinket but was so clearly anything but. He would have to do this quickly. He glanced around the room, trying to figure out the best route to get out once he got his hands on it. He could disable most simple alarm spells, but he had a feeling this one would be equipped with something more potent.

The window was right there, though. Myth went over to it and pushed the glass open to peer down.

It was not a jump he’d do if he had a choice, even with the small roof halfway between here and the ground. That’s what spells were for, though. Myth took a deep breath to remind himself of the spell to help buffer his falls.

A gust of wind rushed into the room, bringing with it the hum of an oncoming storm. A few drops of rain found their way onto Myth’s skin.

Rain was good. Rain would hide tracks.

Myth pulled out the small firecracker spell he’d bought and went back to the amulet. The lock on the display case sparked when he put his hand near it.

Steeling his nerves, he slapped the spell onto the lock. As the vendor had promised, a burst of fire exploded out, disintegrating the lock.

A wave of something followed, an oppressive magic that made Myth choke for a second. It eased fast enough, but it must’ve sent out an alarm.

His warning charm was already warming up, and he heard shouts from down the hall. He grabbed the amulet, stuffed it into his tool bag, and booked it to the window.

Myth hadn’t expected to fall out of towers on this day, but it really was good to be prepared for anything. He jumped, laughing at the rush of freefall, before quickly casting the spell that would keep him from breaking bones on the landing.

It didn’t prevent the pain, but Myth had never let a little pain hold him back from doing something worthwhile.

From doing something fun.

And what was stealing from his disgusting dickface father if not fun?

The sky burst open just as he stood up. Myth gave the castle tower one last glance before running off.

Time to lay low for a while, then find a buyer for this amulet.