A Book of Spirits and Thieves

Valoria’s cold, unpleasant gaze fell over all of them, one by one, before it finally landed on Sienna.

“Well done,” the goddess said. “You’ve pleased me today. All this has come together so swiftly, thanks to your hard work and loyalty.”

Sienna nodded. “As I told you before, my sister has been conspiring with rebels. It was by chance alone that I discovered that the book of the immortals had fallen into her hands. I sent the message by raven as soon as I discovered it last night. I’m thrilled you were able to get here so quickly.”

“And your sister?”

“I killed her.” Sienna nodded toward the cottage. “She won’t cause you any further problems.”

“Excellent.”

Maddox regarded this pair of beautiful women with hatred. Sienna had murdered the kind and benevolent Camilla, and Valoria had murdered Maddox’s father.

He could barely keep from trembling. He craved vengeance on behalf of a man he’d never known, a man whom this evil creature had stolen from him.

Valoria moved toward Barnabas, looking down her nose at him.

“Greetings,” he said. “We meet again.”

“You killed my cobra.”

“Oh, wait. Was that your cobra?” Barnabas frowned. “I had no idea. Apologies, many sincere apologies.”

She nodded at a guard, who then smashed his fist into Barnabas’s jaw.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out your little disguise? Now that I see your skin encrusted with less grime, and smell that you’ve managed to wash away some of the stink that emanated from you before, the memory returns. It’s been some time, Barnabas.”

“Your memory may have returned, but I’m afraid mine hasn’t. I meet a lot of attractive women in my line of work. Did we have a tryst once? I regret that it wasn’t more memorable for me.”

Another nod. Another punch. Blood now trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“It’s been years,” Valoria continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “You’ve grown older. The beard is new, but the face behind it is the same.” A smile now played on her lips. “I know how much you must loathe me.”

All pretenses of levity gone, Barnabas’s eyes narrowed. “You could never in a million years know the depth of my hatred for you.”

“But you helped to create a legend to last through the centuries, Barnabas—you and my sister. The immortal sorceress who fell in love with a mortal hunter. How did you think it would end for you both? That you’d persuade her to live the life of a mortal in a little cottage where you would raise your unnatural spawn?” She laughed. “A love like yours burned bright like the sun but was always destined to end in darkness. You seemed to be the only one surprised by that.”

“I swear I’ll have my vengeance for what you did to Eva.”

“I was not the one to take her life.”

“You helped.”

“You weren’t there. You could never know the whole truth.”

“I know what I see before me. I see a thieving immortal who, instead of guarding this world like she was created to do, steals lives and magic.”

“I never agreed to be a guardian of anything.”

“I will destroy you.”

“Given where you currently sit and where I currently stand, I sincerely doubt that. No. You’ve managed to hide from me for all these years. I promise, you won’t escape from me again.”

“Do you understand a single word of this?” Becca asked. She hadn’t left Maddox’s side since he woke.

He’d been listening to them talk in hushed silence, fearful that Valoria would have a guard put a sword through Barnabas at any moment. But then that fear fell away and was replaced by confusion.

Barnabas and the sorceress.

Eva had been the girl Barnabas confessed to loving last night. The one he’d lost.

It was Eva’s sixteen-year-old daughter for whom Valoria searched.

Eva and Barnabas’s daughter.

A mystery girl who Barnabas had not referenced at all. She wasn’t the hidden heiress to the throne. He’d broken into the dungeon to find Maddox. Because he needed Maddox’s magic . . .

His head hurt from hurriedly thinking through all this, but he knew he was close to something incredibly important. The answer he needed more than any other.

What if it wasn’t a girl at all whom Valoria searched for?

What if it was . . . a sixteen-year-old boy with unusual magic?

His gaze shot to Barnabas.

The thief had told him that Valoria had torn the heart right from Maddox’s father’s chest. But now that he thought about it, Barnabas had never, not once, said his father was dead.

“This can’t be true,” Maddox whispered hoarsely. “Barnabas, it can’t. Can it?”

Barnabas drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening with surprise, as Maddox’s unspoken question hung in the air.

The goddess, who’d watched both of them closely, focused then on Maddox, looking infuriatingly smug.

“The witch boy,” she purred. “How vastly I underestimated you. Barnabas must have thought he was so clever to fool me so well and for so long.”