Cold Burn of Magic by Jennifer Estep
“Everything a fantasy should be.”
—Jennifer L. Armentrout, New York Times #1 bestselling author
“Look,” I said, my voice sharp. “We both know what the deal is. You’re the prince of this particular mob, and I’m a girl who’s spent the last four years living on the streets. We don’t exactly have a lot in common, so let’s not pretend we do. In fact, we don’t have to do the whole fake friends thing at all. It looks like you have plenty of those with Felix and Grant already.”
Devon blinked, as if he was surprised by my surly tone. He probably was. I doubted anyone else talked to him like that. No one would dare to, since he was Claudia’s son.
“I know you don’t really want to be here,” he said. “And I don’t blame you. I don’t need a bodyguard, no matter what my mom thinks, and I know that she basically blackmailed you into this. But I’d like us to be friends, if we could.”
I snorted. “You are the son of the head of one of the most powerful Families in town. You don’t have friends, sweet prince. Not really. You have allies, enemies, and people who want you dead. Nothing more, nothing less. Especially not with me.”
As always to my mom, my grandma, and Andre,
with all their love, help, support, and patience
with my books and everything else in life
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Any author will tell you that her book would not be possible without the hard work of many, many people. Here are some of the folks who helped bring Lila Merriweather and the world of Cloudburst Falls to life:
Thanks to my agent, Annelise Robey, for all her helpful advice.
Thanks to my editor, Alicia Condon, for her sharp editorial eye and thoughtful suggestions. They always make the book so much better.
Thanks to everyone at Kensington who worked on the project, and thanks to Alexandra Nicolajsen and Vida Engstrand for all their promotional efforts. Thanks to Justine Willis as well.
And, finally, thanks to all the readers out there. Entertaining you is why I write books, and it’s always an honor and a privilege. I hope you have as much fun reading about Lila’s adventures as I do writing them.
Happy reading!
CHAPTER ONE
Bad things always come in threes.
Three strikes. Those three bears that Goldilocks ran into.
The three guards with swords who were chasing me right now.
“Come back here, you thief!” one of the guards bellowed, his voice booming across the dark rooftops.
I grinned and ran faster.
Thirty minutes ago, I had let myself into the lavishly furnished, but poorly protected, brownstone of a rich, Family-affiliated accountant who had bought a ruby necklace for his girlfriend—something his wife didn’t exactly appreciate.
So I had been dispatched to swipe said necklace on the angry wife’s orders and dime. It had been child’s play to climb up the drainpipe to the second floor of the brownstone, pick open a balcony door, and slip inside. I hadn’t even had to break into the office safe, because I discovered the necklace nestled in a black velvet box, the top open, sitting on the accountant’s desk. I’d admired the sparkle of the rubies before closing the lid and tucking the box into my long, sapphire-blue trench coat.
Then I had rifled through the rest of the desk to see what else I could steal.
I’d been mildly surprised and rather pleased to come across a pair of diamond cuff links tucked away in another box in one of the drawers. The diamonds weren’t as large and impressive as the rubies, but into my pockets they’d gone all the same, along with a gold fountain pen, a sterling silver letter opener, and a crystal paperweight.
Nothing that I hadn’t swiped dozens of times before in my seventeen years. In fact, this job had been easier than most of the recent ones Mo had sent me on.
You might say that I was a sort of modern-day Robin Hood, merrily stealing from the rich. Only I never, ever gave my loot away for free. There were only three people in this world that I cared about—me, myself, and I. Well, maybe four, if you caught me on a good day and I felt like including Mo. Either way, Mo could fend for himself, and mine was quite enough of a mouth to feed, as far as I was concerned.
Once I made sure all the loot was securely tucked away in my coat pockets, I scanned the rest of the office. But the vases and other knickknacks were too awkward and oddly shaped for me to carry away, the furniture far too large and heavy.
Satisfied with my haul, I decided to leave—the exact moment one of the guards stepped into the room to fetch the necklace for his boss.
He had yelled for his two buddies, they’d come crashing into the office, swords drawn, and I had beat a hasty retreat through a side door, up some stairs, and out onto the top of the brownstone before leaping onto the roof of the next house over . . . and the one after that . . . and the one after that . . .
Now, here I was, three minutes later, still racing across the rooftops of some of the nicer brownstones in Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia. The guards had been harder to shake than I’d expected, but I had a plan to take care of that.
I always had a plan.
I neared the edge of the roof and put on an extra burst of speed, preparing myself to leap onto the rooftop of the next house over. Lucky for me, the brownstones in this part of town were grouped closely together, with flat, square roofs, many of which featured gardens or even aviaries. This particular roof boasted both, and the roses fluttered as I raced past them, a few petals swirling up into the humid air, while the doves mournfully coo-coo-cooed about how I’d disturbed their sleep.