Chapter 1

The blistering scorch of summer seared through Athel’s market, thronging with a large crowd of affluent visitors gathered in the city for the yearly King’s Meet. Dressed in superfluous robes, large purses hanging ostentatiously by their waists, they were easy to spot and ripe for the picking.

Tarya moved leisurely amongst the bustling crowd, playing a finger along the seams of her dress. Her eyes roamed aimlessly over pleasant stocks vendors had specially hoarded for this time of the year. Her mind, however, was alert and calculative. There: A young lord dressed in pale cream robes, slender fingers bedecked with jeweled rings, a heavy pouch at his waist. She moved closer. From the smooth bend of the lord’s cheek, it was unlikely that he had yet seen a day’s growth of beard. Still, he managed to walk with an imperious swagger. A duke’s son, Tarya thought.

Her gaze skipped to some mounted guards by a fruit stall. They sat, backs straight, hands on the hilts of their swords, their eyes scanning the crowd vigilantly. They too, like her, were on the prowl.

The law had been passed that anyone caught stealing in the capital city of Athel would be whipped and then hung in the city square. That though, was nothing compared to the king’s latest sadistic punishment. Caught offenders had their limbs amputated first before being hung up at the city gates to bleed to their deaths.

Her quarry came within reach. With a quick shift of her eyes to ensure the guards’ gazes were not on her, she reached out with one hand and expertly unhooked the pouch from the lord’s waist. Holding her steal close to her side, she began to ease away gently.

The air sucked out of her lungs as a running boy crashed into her. Propelled backwards, the pouch slipped from her hand in a high arc. The boy’s profuse apologies went unnoticed. Her terrified gaze was already tracking the pouch in the air, and her mouth widened in terror as she watched the pouch hurtle towards ground and hit the floor with a loud chink.

Silver pensas and gold innaks spilled out and began an ominous dance on the paved ground.

Tarya looked up, wide-eyed.

The young lord’s face had flushed red. His chest puffed up and the word inevitably exploded from his chest, “Thief!”

She shoved her way through the crowd and ran for her life.