Quill of Thieves

Chapter 2

She gritted her teeth. "You are its master," she recited to her confined, cursed power. "It does not master you."

It does not master you.

Astrid's eyes flung open as the weaver's shop she'd just passed through lit up in colors of brightest red, the drums striking up a new incessant pattern: a quick double-tap that echoed among the close stoned walls of the fortress. Astrid tilted her head, interpreting the message: Avalanche spotted. All guards report.

Well, now the real fun could begin.

Her headache eased, the pressure receding to the depths of her stomach, mollified by the rush of adrenaline she was about to exert. The copper band around her arm loosened, and her breaths eased.

The Fortress Square still lay snow-covered before her, empty, for the most part, except for those who were too young to have mastered a trade yet. A few meters away, a pair of boys not much younger than herself came into view, pushing a cart full of books between them. They probably apprenticed at the Halorian Library, and despite the fact that the idea of harming those books sent a regretful pang through her chest, she couldn't have planned its arrival more perfectly herself.

Behind her, the rhythmic, drilled march of the Iced Guards approached. Across the plaza, a flash of something golden winked at her and then disappeared. Astrid released a satisfied smirk, thanking the Scribes that Matthias had stayed true to his more predictable nature. When the signal flashed once more, Astrid reached into the folds of her cloak. She pulled out a flare—a tubular object the length of her forearm—and yanked on the thread of ignition. She counted out two seconds and then flung the device. It arched beautifully—Matthias would be proud if he weren't too busy scowling to watch—before it struck its mark.

The cart exploded. The sound was atrocious, a high pitched whine that was loud enough to garner the attention of all seven realms. But there was no true fire to accompany it; after all, the magic of old no longer existed, and she was hardly one of the legendary Elementi. Not yet, anyways. Still, a burst of light swallowed the cart, the solar flare providing the final distraction she'd needed in a fortress made primarily of ice and snow.

After all, if the guards allowed it to all melt to the ground, Queen Davina would be far from pleased.

Shouts cried out. The two unfortunate young boys out in the square stumbled about, half-blinded from the flare. Consequently, they paid no attention to Astrid--the hidden princess of Rainier, the princess who didn't exist to the general populace--as she ran by them, leaping over the damaged cart and landing in a crouch on the opposite side. Poor boys. They had almost seen a story worth telling.

She skidded to a stop on the far-side of the square, the traction of her boots sliding across a patch of black ice in her haste. Her footsteps in the snow would be the least of the guards' worries now as they hurried towards the cart to stomp out the flare. A satisfied grin had just taken over her expression when someone fisted fingers into the hood of her cloak and wrenched her backwards.

With an undignified sound, she gagged as the collar of her cloak choked her, but she allowed her limbs to go limp against the hard body behind her.

"Nice of you to show up," Astrid greeted as Captain Matthias Soiree half-dragged her through a series of complicated alleyways and into the hidden tunnel of the royal fortress that Astrid herself had spent years carving into the mountain and out of her mother's fortress. Her great escape.

True to form, she could practically hear Matthias's scowl. When she chanced a glance at him, his squared jaw was so tight that she had a wild thought to touch it to see if it sliced her skin.