The palace of Areal glittered like a jewel-cold, polished, and impossible to escape.
Crystal chandeliers blazed overhead, scattering fractured light across the marble floors of the throne room.
Silk-clad courtiers lined the walls like painted statues, their whispers weaving through the air with the scent of exotic flowers and old ambition.
At the far end of the hall, beneath banners embroidered in gold, King Caleb and Queen Camille sat upon their thrones.
Waiting.
The great doors opened.
Prince Jace entered with the kind of confidence that made nobles nervous and servants step aside. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he'd made no effort to look presentable for court, and the faint smirk tugging at his mouth said he didn't care. He offered the bare minimum of a bow.
"Father. Mother."
King Caleb's expression hardened.
"You're late."
Jace straightened, unfazed. "I was deciding whether or not this meeting was worth attending."
A ripple of unease moved through the courtiers.
Queen Camille smiled, but it was the sort of smile that belonged on a portrait, not a mother's face. "Always dramatic."
A servant stepped forward at Caleb's gesture, carrying a small carved box on a velvet cushion. The king's fingers rested on the arm of his throne, heavy with rings and authority.
"We hosted a ball in your honor tonight," Caleb said. "The finest daughters of Azura's noble houses attended."
Jace glanced at the box, then back at his father. "How touching."
"Several of them expressed interest in you," Camille added smoothly. "As expected."
Jace gave a dry laugh. "And?"
Caleb's voice sharpened. "It is time you chose a bride."
Silence fell.
For one suspended moment, even the chandeliers seemed to stop trembling.
Jace stared at him. "You can't be serious."
"We are entirely serious," Camille said. "You are no longer a boy. You are the heir to the throne of Areal. It is time you started acting like it."
Caleb leaned forward, his gaze cutting like a blade. "You will marry. You will choose from the candidates we have selected, or your mother and I will choose for you."
Jace's jaw clenched. "I'm not livestock."
A few courtiers audibly inhaled.
Caleb slammed his fist against the armrest.
The crack echoed through the throne room.
"You will watch your tongue."
Jace didn't flinch. But inside, something hot and dangerous snapped tight.
"I said no."
Caleb rose from his throne, the gold of his robes spilling down the steps like molten sunlight. "You do not get to say no. You cannot be crowned king until you are married. It is tradition."
"Then perhaps tradition should find itself another heir."
Gasps.
Camille stood so suddenly her chair scraped the marble. "Jace."
But he was already stepping backward, anger burning bright behind his eyes.
"You want a king?" he said coldly. "Find someone who enjoys being paraded around and sold off like a prize stallion."
"Jace-" Caleb thundered.
He turned on his heel and walked out before the command could land.
The throne room erupted behind him.
He didn't look back.
The crown had never touched his head, yet somehow Jace could already feel its weight pressing against his throat.
He shoved open the doors to his chambers and paced the length of the room, breathing hard.
Moonlight spilled across velvet drapes, gold-trimmed furniture, and shelves full of books he'd never had time to read. Every inch of the room screamed privilege.
Every inch of it felt like a cage.
Marriage.
A parade of jeweled strangers smiling at him over goblets of wine. Endless dinners. Endless obligations. Endless pretending.
His parents didn't want a son.
They wanted a symbol.
"Not happening," he muttered.
He crossed to the balcony and threw open the curtains.
Below, the palace gardens glowed silver under the moon. Guards moved along the outer walls in neat patterns. Lanterns flickered along the paths. And leaning against one of the iron lampposts beyond the hedge maze, like he'd stepped out of trouble itself, was Logan.
His best friend.
Logan looked up, caught sight of him, and grinned.
Even from above, Jace could see the glint of a knife flipping between his fingers.
Jace's mouth curved despite himself.
"Tonight," he mouthed.
Logan straightened and gave a sharp nod.
No hesitation. No questions.
That was why Logan was Logan.
Jace stepped away from the balcony and moved quickly.
He stripped off the embroidered jacket his mother insisted made him look "regal," yanked on dark trousers and a plain shirt, then grabbed the only things in the room he actually trusted-a dagger, a pouch of coins, and his own terrible judgment.
At the door, he paused.
The room stood behind him in perfect order. Gilded. Elegant. Lifeless.
A prince's cage.
Jace smirked.
Then he slipped into the shadows and left it behind.
The lower districts of Areal were a different kingdom entirely.
Gone were the polished marble streets and glowing fountains of the upper city. Here, the alleys were narrow and damp, crowded with leaning buildings, hanging laundry, and the smell of smoke, sweat, and survival. Lantern light barely reached the ground. Shadows ruled these streets, and everyone who lived here knew how to use them.
Damian led the crew through the maze of back alleys with the ease of a man who trusted darkness more than daylight.
"Stay sharp," he muttered. "In and out. No mistakes."
Behind him, Justin adjusted the strap of the sack slung over his shoulder.
Carl kept glancing at the rooftops, always the nervous one when the district got too quiet.
Sydney walked beside Avary, her posture loose, but her eyes alert.
Avary liked that about her.
Sydney looked relaxed right up until the moment she wasn't.
The boys thought tonight's target was a merchant's safehouse on the far side of Dane's district.
That had been the plan.
Then Avary saw the red glow.
It flickered from the cracked window of a run-down hut tucked between two abandoned buildings, faint but unmistakable.
Her steps slowed.
Sydney noticed immediately. "What?"
Avary tilted her chin toward the hut without moving her lips. "Window."
Sydney's eyes narrowed.
Then she saw it too.
A pulse of deep crimson light, like a heartbeat trapped in glass.
A ruby.
Not a common one, either.
Even from here, Avary could tell it was worth more than everything she'd stolen in the last two years combined.
And judging by the way it glowed...
There was something strange about it.
Her pulse kicked.
Sydney gave her a sidelong glance.
"You're thinking something stupid."
Avary smiled.
"Always."
Up ahead, Damian kept moving.
If they passed the hut now, the chance was gone.
Avary made her decision.
She stumbled.
Hard.
One hand flew to her temple as she sucked in a sharp breath. "Wait-"
The group stopped instantly.
Damian turned. "What happened?"
Avary bent over, breathing like she was trying not to throw up. "I-I don't know. My head..."
Justin stepped toward her. "Seriously?"
Carl frowned. "You were fine a second ago."
Sydney was already at her side, one arm around Avary's shoulders like she'd done this a hundred times.
"She's burning up," she lied smoothly. "I'm taking her back."
Damian hesitated, suspicion flickering across his scarred face. "We don't have time for this."
"You want her passing out in the middle of the job?" Sydney shot back.
That did it.
Damian cursed under his breath. "Fine. Take her home. We'll finish without you."
Avary kept her face pinched with fake pain until the boys disappeared around the corner.
Then she straightened.
Completely fine.
Sydney folded her arms. "You are such a menace."
Avary grinned. "And yet you love me."
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Don't make this weird.
Let's go steal your glowing little bad decision."
They turned and slipped back toward the hut.
The hut was smaller than Avary expected.
One room.
Worn couch. Small table. Thin walls. The kind of place people rented when they wanted to disappear.
A strip of light cut across the floor beneath the door.
Inside, voices.
Male.
"...I'm just saying," Logan snapped, pacing the room. "How are we supposed to survive off one ruby? You ran away with a single jewel and a bag of coins. That's not a plan, Jace. That's a tantrum."
Avary froze beside the door.
Inside, another voice answered-calm, sharp, and entirely too self-assured.
"It's not a tantrum," Jace said. "It's strategy."
"Strategy?" Logan barked out a laugh. "We're hiding in a hut that smells like mold."
"You said you wanted adventure."
"I meant a tavern brawl. Maybe gambling. Not poverty."
Sydney leaned close, whispering, "Do we leave?"
Avary looked at the red glow flickering through the crack in the wall.
"No."
Sydney sighed. "Of course not."
Avary adjusted the black cloth mask over her face.
"Knock," she mouthed.
Sydney's grin sharpened.
She rapped lightly on the door.
Inside, silence.
Footsteps approached.
A lock clicked.
The door creaked open.
Logan stood there, one hand still on the handle, frowning out into the empty corridor.
"There's no one-"
Sydney's heel slammed into his face.
He stumbled backward with a curse.
Avary was already moving.
She darted past him as the room exploded into chaos.
Jace was on his feet in an instant.
Faster than she expected.
Moonlight from the single window caught the edge of a dagger as he snatched it from the table, turning toward her with unnerving precision. No panic. No hesitation.
Just instinct.
Well.
That was interesting too.
Sydney crashed into Logan before he could recover, the two of them slamming into the wall in a tangle of limbs and curses.
Avary went straight for the ruby.
She caught the red flash tucked into the inner pocket of Jace's coat the moment he shifted.
There.
She lunged.
Jace intercepted her wrist before she could reach him.
His grip was iron.
She twisted, aiming a kick at his knee, but he blocked it and shoved her back. She spun with the motion, drove an elbow toward his ribs, and nearly connected-nearly.
He caught that too.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Busy," Avary shot back.
She went for his pocket again.
Wrong move.
Jace caught her around the waist and drove her into the wall hard enough to rattle the thin wood. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. His forearm pinned her in place while his dagger hovered just near enough to be a threat.
For one infuriating second, she couldn't move.
He reached up with his free hand and ripped off her mask.
The cloth fell.
And Jace froze.
Not because he'd expected fear.
But because there was none.
Avary stared right back at him, breathing hard, eyes bright and furious. She was all wild edges and reckless fire, the kind of girl who looked like she'd rather start a war than surrender.
Something unreadable flashed across his face.
Surprise.
Then fascination.
His grip loosened.
Just enough.
Avary made her choice.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.
Hard.
The shock of it stunned him still.
His breath caught.
His hand faltered.
And that was all she needed.
She tore free, drove her fist into his stomach with every ounce of force she had, and snatched the ruby from his pocket in the same motion.
Jace doubled over with a choked curse.
Sydney, who had just shoved Logan into a table, looked over and barked a laugh. "Show-off."
"Run!" Avary shouted.
They bolted.
The two girls flew out the door and into the night, boots pounding against the stone as they vanished into the maze of alleys.
Behind them, Logan staggered upright, clutching his face.
"What-" he spluttered. "What just happened?"
Jace straightened slowly, one hand pressed to his stomach, still trying to process the fact that he had just been robbed, punched, and-
Kissed.
By a thief.
A dangerous one.
A very annoying one.
Logan stared at him. "Did she just kiss you?"
Jace looked toward the open doorway, where the shadows had already swallowed her whole.
"...Yes."
Logan blinked.
Then he started laughing.
Actually laughing.
"You got robbed by a girl."
Jace shot him a flat look.
"She also hit you."
"I noticed."
"And stole the ruby."
"Yes, Logan, I was there."
Logan leaned against the wall, wheezing.
"This is incredible."
Jace should have been furious.
That ruby had been his only real asset. His only leverage. The one thing he'd brought from the palace that might buy him time, anonymity, freedom.
Instead, to his own annoyance, a grin tugged at his mouth.
Because beneath the irritation, beneath the bruise forming in his stomach and the sting to his pride...
He felt something he hadn't in a very long time.
Interest.
Real, sharp, dangerous interest.
He could still see her eyes.
Still feel the sudden heat of that reckless kiss.
Still hear the sound of her laughter as she ran.
Logan noticed the expression on his face and groaned.
"Oh no."
Jace glanced at him.
"Oh yes."
"Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
Jace bent to retrieve his dagger from the floor, sliding it back into its sheath with slow, deliberate calm.
"She stole from me."
Logan folded his arms. "People steal from people all the time."
"She challenged me."
"That is not what happened."
Jace looked toward the doorway again, a sly smile forming.
"For the first time in weeks," he said, "I'm not bored."
Logan pointed at him. "That sentence is how people die."
Jace ignored him.
Somewhere in the lower districts, a thief with fire in her eyes was running with his ruby in her hand.
And for the first time since leaving the palace, the night felt alive.
"Come on," he said.
Logan groaned. "Absolutely not."
"We're going after them."
"We don't even know their names."
Jace opened the door and stepped into the dark, his grin all trouble.
"Then I suppose," he said, "we'll have to ask."
And somewhere ahead, beneath the tangled maze of the city, fate tightened its grip.
The ruby was gone.
Unfortunately for her-
so was his boredom.