A Thief in the Night_EndBeside her, with a strong arm curled around her shoulders, the man lay breathing deeply in his sleep. Farya watched the rise and fall of his chest in the cold light for a short while, but something on the chest beside the bed that had not been there before drew her gaze, the elegant design of its silver-inlayed handle winking with the steadily lightening sky. She eased out of his embrace and the warmth of the blankets, her bare skin forming gooseflesh all over in the morning chill. She stopped only to throw a shirt over herself before gently reaching for the pistol on the nightstand.
It seemed to form to Farya’s hand when she lifted it and the cold metal decorum balanced the warm wood of the grip. Closer inspection revealed the silver to display curling vines up that were also worked into the iron barrels, sprouting miniscule stone farya flowers all up and down the design. Her throat closed up and her heart sped up. Father's guns!
The woman searched as thoroughly as
A Thief in the Night_3“No.”
“None at all?”
“No interest, no curiosity, no questions?”
They burned at her lying tongue, but Farya shook her head. “No,” she said again. She was curious, no more or less than any person in her position would be, but the simple fact was that none of it had any importance to her. It would change nothing of her situation if she knew what the man did, why he kept her here, or how he had come to own an item so rare as her namesake.
She had not seen him since the afternoon the day before when she had fallen asleep watching him until he came down to bring her food this evening. Though he once again wore a long coat and hat of office, every time he turned his back to her, Farya saw again the muscles rippling beneath a thin white shirt. Every time he closed his eyes for more than an instant, she saw again the stroke of golden sunlight run the length of his curving lashes in sleep.
“You gave me your name on accident