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  ALSO BY SARAH FINE

  The Reliquary Series

  Reliquary

  Splinter

  Servants of Fate

  Marked

  Claimed

  Fated

  Guards of the Shadowlands

  Sanctum

  Fractured

  Chaos

  Captive: A Guard’s Tale from Malachi’s Perspective

  Vigilante: A Guard’s Tale from Ana’s Perspective

  Stories from the Shadowlands

  Of Metal and Wishes

  Of Dreams and Rust

  Of Shadows and Obsession: A Short Story Prequel to Of Metal and Wishes

  The Impostor Queen

  Scan (with Walter Jury)

  Burn (with Walter Jury)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2016 Sarah Fine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503939561

  ISBN-10: 1503939561

  Cover design by Jason Blackburn

  Based on series concept by Faceout Studio

  For Lam, who carried me across the finish line

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Need is a funny thing. Sometimes it’s just a hum in the background. Sometimes it grows like ivy, patient but relentless, sliding tiny tendrils into your mortar and crumbling your walls. Sometimes it rises hard and fast, breathtaking in its urgency.

  Sometimes it’s all three combined, and that’s when it becomes truly terrifying. That’s when you realize there’s no way to stop or go back, because whatever you were before, the need is a part of you now. It has shifted your very foundation.

  Losing something that necessary might not destroy you. You might be strong enough or stubborn enough to endure.

  But you will never be the same.

  “Dammit,” I whispered. “It’s never the same.” I glared at the timer on my phone, frozen at six minutes, thirty-eight seconds: fifty-eight seconds longer than last time. I shoved it back into my purse. A gust of frigid wind lifted my curls as I stood there scowling, lacy snowflakes dancing around my body and fluttering their cold kisses across my cheeks. I shivered and shifted my weight, my feet aching. I trained my eyes up the street, the black bricks shining wet under the streetlamps, to the club I’d just left. I could still hear the insistent thumping of bass.

  I hoped Asa had had better luck.

  Wincing as my heel caught in a crack in the bricks, I started to make my way up the street, easily tuning out the conversations around me. When we’d first arrived in Prague, my brain had strained for understanding like it did every time we hit a new place. But after a few days I got used to it, and the foreign words washed over me, much like the wonder I’d first felt about traveling. Now, only eight months later, I was mostly focused on the job.

  And I needed to be. Tomorrow night would be big. Our plans were in place. Well, Asa’s plans were in place. As usual, I was a few steps behind.

  When I reached one of the orange mailboxes that hung on selected buildings around the city, I pulled the postcard out of my coat pocket. E-mail would have been more efficient, but Asa was kind of paranoid about it, and my parents probably liked seeing my actual handwriting, knowing their daughter was alive and well and having a grand time traveling the world as a public relations liaison.

  Hey, Mom and Dad! Prague is so cozy and quaint this time of year. I’ve been working a lot and haven’t gotten to see much of the town, but I hear the Christmas markets are amazing! I’ve been within a few blocks and I swear the smells are to DIE for. I’ll snap some pics to show you when I visit. Sorry I won’t be home for Christmas this year. Next year, I promise. I hope you both are doing well and that Dad isn’t eating too many Christmas cookies. He needs to watch his cholesterol!

  Love,

  Mattie

  I sighed and slipped it into the mailbox. I hated lying to them, but what was I supposed to say?

  Hey, Mom and Dad! Asa and I are here in Prague to steal a hot relic stuffed to the gills with Ekstazo magic. Asa has the buyer lined up and says we’re going to make a cool million off of it because apparently it’s überpotent, but that’s only if we can manage to smuggle it out. It’s currently in the custody of some scary mobsters who work for this boss named Volodya, who may or may not have once owned Asa’s mom, but we don’t really talk about that because the whole topic makes Asa super grumpy. Just add it to the list of emotionally sticky things that we do not discuss. Assuming I make it out of this heist with mind and body intact, I’ll write again soon.

  Love,

  Helga Nordford (or whoever the hell I am this week)

  So, yeah. I flagged a cab and headed for the rented flat where we’d been camped out for the last several days, offering a sad smile to the glittering storefronts bedecked with ribbons and candles and lights. This would be the first Christmas I’d spend away from home. Instead of waking to the smell of baking bread and pie, I would be on a plane headed to London, to a buyer awaiting the magic I’d have tucked inside my chest. Instead of opening presents, Asa would help me open my vault. Instead of giving gifts, I’d be offering up illicit magic for cash. And then we’d be off before someone could pin us down. Only Asa knew where. But he’d said going home now wasn’t an option. It might be dangerous, and not just for us. There was no way I was going to put my family in the crosshairs of an assassin.

  So here I was. Life had changed a lot since the spring. One thing hadn’t changed, though. I slipped my hand into my pocket and held the tiny parcel I was saving for the right moment, one I wasn’t sure would actually happen. My heart beat a little faster as my fingers slid over the ribbon-wrapped paper. The gift was small but felt huge, like everything did when it came to Asa. And with every day that passed, the stakes were higher—for my heart, at least.

  As I climbed the narrow staircase to our flat, I held my breath. What would he say when I told him about the timing of the security shift change? Would he postpone the plan? Would he be spiky or sweet?

  Would I crave him any less today than I did yesterday?

  Would I be even one step closer to understanding where this thing between us was going?

  The flat greeted me with silence and darkness. I unwound the scarf from around my neck and hung it on the coatrack, th
en flicked on the lights and walked down the hall to peek into his room. Nothing but a bed, table, lamp, chair, his duffel, and two toolboxes.

  He was supposed to be home. “I hate when you do this,” I whispered.

  More accurately, I hated worrying about him.

  I went back to the living area and settled in to pace around the tiny Christmas tree Asa had brought home the day after we arrived. My gaze flicked to the clock every few seconds. I counted each step, pushing the gnawing fear away. Asa was fine; he was always fine; he was never not fine.

  A few minutes later I headed for the kitchen. I would make dinner. I would—

  He’d left a note taped to the blender.

  Corner of Opletalova and Ruzova. Wear your comfy shoes.

  I groaned. “At least you gave me a heads-up about the footgear.” I put my coat back on, slipped my feet into the sneakers Asa had gotten me in Barcelona, and headed back out the door. Would we be meeting our conduit there, or was Asa doing some sort of side deal? Why did he have to be so darn mysterious? Hoping I wouldn’t end up fleeing for my life, but now fully prepared to do so if necessary, I tromped toward the intersection as snow spiraled through slants of warm light. The sidewalks were busy even at this hour, people laughing and chattering, the spirit of the season evident in their red cheeks and huge smiles. I felt a pang in my chest as one couple walked by, holding hands as they crossed into Wenceslas Square. It was the location of one of the Christmas markets I’d written my mom about, the one I didn’t have time to explore.

  The sight of Asa under a streetlamp made my stomach tighten. His long, lean body practically vibrated with tension as his eyes swept from corner to corner, ever vigilant. He had a paper sack clutched in one hand, his gloved grip hard—was there a relic in there? Something he’d stolen? Despite the cold, he wasn’t wearing a hat, and his dark hair glinted with melting snowflakes. His crooked profile made me sigh. It’s never going to get any easier, is it? I thought to myself.

  That was the moment he spotted me. His body sagged a little, maybe relief, maybe annoyance, and he strode over to me. “I’ve been freezing my ass off out here.”

  I scowled. “We have phones, you know. There’s this process called texting—”

  “You were supposed to be home by ten.”

  “You were, too!”

  He let out an exasperated breath and then looked me over. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. You sound hangry.”

  “Haven’t eaten yet,” I grumbled. Too busy worrying about you.

  He grinned, sharp and triumphant. “Well then, the first thing we’re gonna do is feed that little monster inside you.” He grabbed my hand, and I let him tow me along the sidewalk beneath trees sparkling with lights, fighting the urge to lean closer and smell his familiar scent, one that conjured equally both danger and safety.

  “Where are we going?”

  He waved his paper sack toward the square.

  “The Christmas market?”

  “You wanted to go.”

  “I never said that.”

  He bumped my shoulder. “You didn’t have to, Mattie.”

  I bit my lip as we crossed the street and entered the square, which was filled with red-roofed booths like tiny cottages, all decorated with holly and strung with buttery-yellow lights. A towering Christmas tree stood in the center, luminous and gorgeous. Parents walked by with their bundled-up kiddies on their shoulders. Asa made a goofy face at one solemn yet adorable little girl, and she rewarded him with a wide smile that made me laugh. Asa squeezed my hand.

  Why did he have to act like this? Why had he brought me here? What did it mean?

  I’m not stupid. It’s just . . . Asa was so complicated. And if I didn’t know exactly what he wanted from me, I couldn’t protect myself if he decided to turn tail and run. So I guarded my heart with iron bars.

  Some of them had become kinda loose, though.

  Asa kept me close as we wove our way along the crowded paths. The smell of roasting nuts made my mouth water, and the sights . . . something out of a fantasy. Booths full of carved ornaments, little paddocks full of sheep and ponies, musicians playing carols on every corner, with strings of lights wound around every railing, every tree, every window, all sparkling and glowing. I grinned as we reached a booth displaying hats for sale, and on impulse I grabbed a striped one with a pom-pom on top and earflaps ending in tassels. Asa probably could have dodged me if he wanted, but he let me cram it over his head and then stood there, one eyebrow arched, as the hat’s long tassels swayed beneath his chin. “Not exactly my style.”

  “I think you look adorable.” And damn if it wasn’t true.

  He snorted and pulled the hat off his head, placing it back on the pile. “Not exactly my goal.”

  “What is your goal, then?”

  “At the moment? Sausage.” He chuckled when he saw my stunned expression. “For you, Mattie.” He steered me toward the kiosk, and I nearly fainted at the rich scent of sizzling meat and hot grease. Within minutes, Asa had acquired sausage, bread, nuts, a pastry, and coffee, and he guided me over to a little bench and sat me down. “Eat.”

  I took in the feast spread across my lap. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  He gave me a little smile. “I ate the salad you left for me in the fridge. And the bag of nuts you tucked in my coat pocket. Also, the carrot sticks you put into my pack.”

  “Thought you might need a snack,” I mumbled, looking away as I tugged off my gloves and set to work on the sausage. It hadn’t taken long at all for us to settle into this rhythm, this place where I took care of him, where he took care of me. It had been too easy. I kept telling myself that this was how a team functioned. It wasn’t personal—it was our business. “How did the reconnaissance go?”

  He sat down next to me, and I held my paper plate a little tighter to keep from running my hand over his dark waves to smooth them down. “Our conduit’s all lined up. And I was there when the dealer’s team delivered the relic to the club. Volodya’s reliquary will probably arrive from Moscow by tomorrow night at the latest. We’re racing the clock on this one. We can’t hesitate.”

  “Do we know what kind of Ekstazo magic it is yet?”

  He shook his head. “Couldn’t dig up anything on what he’s gonna use it for, and they have it really well packaged. I won’t know for sure until I’ve got ahold of it. But there’s no doubt it’s worth a lot. The dealer has brought in some heavy hitters to guard the damn thing and switched out the security staff you were supposed to spot.”

  “So the dudes I’ve been watching and timing all week—”

  “Gone.”

  “Great. But if the dealer brought his own guards in, won’t you be able to feel them coming?”

  “They’re not naturals—they’re mercenaries, and they’ve been in this game longer than the two we dealt with in Atlanta. They may know me by sight. I’ll send their pics to your phone so you know who to look out for at the club. I’ve recruited a few more helpers to act as our decoys.”

  “Great. There goes our commission.”

  “Listen to you, all cutthroat.” He smirked. “There’ll be plenty left for us.”

  “Like in Sydney?”

  His head hung back as he groaned. “Are you ever gonna forgive me for that?”

  I held back the smile that said I already had, dammit. “I literally had to sell the clothes off my back to pay for our escape, and that included one very sweet pair of Gucci sandals that I miss to this day.”

  “You definitely couldn’t run in those.”

  “But they made my legs look awesome.”

  “No argument there.”

  “So, what are we doing here?” I asked as my cheeks grew warm. “Are we meeting someone?” I poked the paper sack in his lap and whispered, “Did you steal that?”

  “Stop hurting my feelings.” He reached inside and pulled out a small, wrapped present, complete with a cheerful red bow.

  I b
linked down at it. “For me?”

  “I had a feeling this might be a tough time of year for you. I figured you’d need some cheering up.”

  “That’s why you brought home that tree.”

  “Yep.” He set the gift on my upturned palm. “Merry Christmas.”

  I looked down at the box. “I wasn’t even sure you celebrated Christmas.”

  He gazed out at the festive square. “It doesn’t exactly conjure fond family memories.”

  “I know,” I murmured.

  “But watching you smile as you looked at all these lights, at those little kids with their families . . .” His voice faded and he looked away. “That was good,” he said quietly.

  I touched his arm as my throat grew tight. Being in this amazing place made me miss my family even more, but somehow it also made me really glad I was here, in this moment, with this man. No matter that I was neck-deep in his lethally magical world—I didn’t want to be anywhere else. “Asa . . .”

  He elbowed me in the side and tossed me a carefree smile. “Open your gift.”

  I did, prying off the foil paper to reveal a delicate gold chain, from which hung a small vial. I lifted it to the light. “Is that sand?”

  “From Kohler—”

  “Kohler-Andrae State Park?” I asked in a shaky voice. “How did you get this?” It was my favorite beach, just south of Sheboygan, with windswept dunes and the lake that changed colors like a mood ring. “Did Ben . . .”

  His smile grew tense as his brother’s shadow crept over us. “I wanted you to have a piece of your home.”

  And he must have asked Ben, which I knew must have cost them both. But Asa had reached out. For me. My eyes burned, and I blinked quickly before a tear escaped. “Dammit, Asa,” I whispered. So much for keeping things totally professional. I lifted my hair and let him fasten the clasp at the nape of my neck, shivering at the cool brush of his fingertips. Then I jammed my hand in my pocket, pulled out my own little wrapped box, and shoved it into his lap.

  He looked down at it but didn’t move to open it. “You got me a present.”