❝ Pain was my fuel, until the fire began bleeding from my veins. ❞
The girl without a name.
The black-haired fiend devoid of fear.
The sharp-tongued scoundrel always ready with a trick up her sleeve.
Thief and street rat Azura knows how to hustle a...
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• A small reminder that this book does have some graphic violence in it. This is the last warning you shall receive but if you're familiar with my writing then you're already aware of my love for gore. •
༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛
As the convoy nears, lanterns swinging from the sides of the carts, tossing shadows and lengthening the trees, the kids wait in anticipation. It's a moonless night, further darkening the forest. I hold my breath, nerves tightly wound around my throat. I'm certain the light from from the lanterns will illuminate us, but it never gets the chance to.
The first barrel of sloshing liquid rolls across the road, jostling over the uneven dirt. The carriage driver doesn't see it.
I continue to hold my breath.
Emera dips the tip of her cloth-wrapped arrowhead into the bucket beside her, the thick liquid dripping from it.
"Now," she whispers. A kid at her side sparks a flint, the light jarring in the darkness as the arrowhead flares. Emera pulls the string back and lets out her breath before the arrow flies, an arc of orange light across the road.
It thuds into the barrel and then boom. The barrel bursts apart in a shower of flaming liquid and fragments of wood. Emera throws a hand up to shield her eyes, but I stare, enraptured, as the trail of oil catches light and crawls along the road, creating a wall of flame.
The horses screech with the sudden eruption, skidding to a halt in the mud. The driver cries out, struggling to keep his hold on the reins.
The other carts and drivers behind him rumble to a stop, demanding answers. Fire surges behind them too, trapping them with their terrified horses and their invaluable loot that will change our lives forever.
My mouth begins to water with the thought of that loot and the future it promises.
A scream rises and kids run from the trees, brandishing their weapons in white-knuckled grips, hope flickering with the flames in their gazes.
"Let's get rich," Emera says at my side, her smile wide as she bursts from her cover.
The drivers raise their hands, already surrounded and held at bay by feral children. Only a few, only those I could trust with this kind of thing, but each of them will be walking away with their freedom. I see Dax amongst them, more bounce in his step than I've ever seen him with as he hops from one foot to the other, peering into the back of a cart.
I bare my teeth in an eager grin, tracking Emera's movements as she approaches one of the carts. I've been waiting for this moment for two years; the moment where my coin finally flips.
Too easy.
My smile slips at the rough voice. Something settles in my stomach, a heavy weight that feels nothing like hope.
