Third POV
The nights had grown colder, the kind of cold that sank into the bones and made even the hardiest slaves curl tight under their thin blankets.
Elias was used to it by now. He had learned to breathe through the chill, to keep his muscles loose even when the frost bit his skin. Training had become a ritual — quiet, hidden, and as necessary as breathing.
But secrets rarely stayed buried in the slave camp.
First POV
I'd been careful. Careful enough to avoid guards, careful enough not to wake anyone in the sleeping quarters. Every night I slipped away after the snores started, every morning I was back before the first bell.
So when I caught the faintest flicker of movement behind one of the water barrels near the blacksmith's shed, I almost didn't think twice.
Almost.
I slowed my pace, letting my eyes adjust. The shadow didn't move again, but the feeling stayed — that prickling itch of being watched.
I trained anyway, forcing my attention into my breathing, my stance, the flow of strain and release through my muscles.
If someone wanted to spy, let them.
Third POV
The shadow didn't interfere, didn't speak. It simply waited until Elias finished and slipped back toward the sleeping quarters.
It wasn't until three nights later that the watcher revealed himself.
First POV
I'd just stepped into the longhouse, my body still humming with the aftershocks of training. I wanted nothing more than to drop onto my mat and pass out.
But someone was sitting in my spot.
Tyrek.
The thief was leaning back against the wall, one knee up, his expression wearing that usual half-smirk of his.
"You're getting bolder," he said quietly.
I froze. "What?"
"That little walk you take every night." His voice was low enough not to wake anyone, but there was no mistaking the amusement in it. "You think you're the only one who knows the quiet spots?"
I didn't answer.
Third POV
Tarek leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dim firelight that crept in from the dying hearth.
"I've been watching you for a while," he said. "You move different now. And not just when you're sneaking out. You've got a little more… weight in your step. Like you're carrying something no one else can see."
He tilted his head, studying Elias the way a merchant might study a coin for forgery.
First POV
"What do you want, Tarek?" I asked.
"Nothing. Yet." He grinned faintly. "But I'm a man who notices patterns. You're building toward something. And if you're building toward something, you're going to need help. Maybe not now, but someday."
I didn't like the way he said someday.
Third POV
The conversation ended there for the night, but it didn't end in Tarek's mind.
The thief had lived too long in the camp not to recognize a man with a purpose. Most slaves drifted into quiet resignation, their eyes dulling until they were just bodies moving through the motions. Elias's eyes hadn't dulled.
That was dangerous. And maybe, just maybe, valuable.
First POV
A week later, I was coming back from training when I saw him again, leaning against the doorpost of the longhouse like he'd been waiting.
"You're not very good at hiding the dirt on your boots," he said.
"I'm not hiding anything," I lied.
"Sure," he said easily. "And I'm not a thief."
He fell into step beside me as I walked to my mat. Most people in the longhouse were already asleep, the dim orange of the dying coals barely lighting the place.
When I lay down, he crouched beside me.
"I don't care what you're doing," he said quietly. "But if you're going to break your neck, make sure it's worth the rope they'll hang you with."
Third POV
Elias turned his head toward him, meeting the thief's gaze in the half-dark.
Tarek's smirk was gone now, replaced by something sharper — a glint of calculation, and beneath it, the faintest flicker of something like respect.
The thief didn't wait for an answer. He straightened, padded back to his own mat, and pulled the thin blanket over his shoulders.
But Elias knew the truth now.
His secret was no longer his alone.
First POV
I lay awake longer than I should have that night. Not because I was worried Tarek would betray me — if he wanted to, he already would have — but because his words stuck in my head.
Worth the rope.
I didn't know exactly what he meant yet. But I had a feeling I'd find out.