Nobody else was interested in the patrols the way she was. The Crafters in the Rishiyat camp were either too confident in their power, or too complacent in their hidden sanctuary, but either way none of them thought to search the trees for intruders. Even Karam seemed to be spending most nights focused on pillow talk with Saxony, instead of hunting for enemies.

Maybe Tavia was just the mad one who needed to stop looking for danger where there was none and enjoy the small solace they had found while it lasted. She’d thought about that a lot over the past few days as she searched the woods alone and found nothing but crisp leaves and, once, a small snake that didn’t even take the time to hiss at her before slithering away. She thought about it tonight as the moon stared down at her in judgment and begged her to just go to sleep already.

And then she heard the crack of those crisp leaves—a sound that could only be footprints on the dirt—and she felt the whispering trees gasp, and suddenly Tavia didn’t feel like she was mad anymore.

She hid behind a mossy trunk, her hand on her knife hilt as Nolan Kane, the cocky little bastard she had bested back in the city center, sighed, unzipped his pants, and started to piss on a nearby tree root.

Tavia resisted the urge to look away, just in case he spotted her and tried to pull something, but the wincing couldn’t be helped.

How in the fire-gates did he find this place? And what in the name of the Many Gods is he doing here alone?

Alone.

Tavia focused on that, just as she focused on the backpack by his feet. More magic, ready for the taking.

Nolan didn’t look like he had company. In fact, as he swayed and pressed a hand to a tree trunk for balance while he carried on with his business, he looked a little drunk, his eyes bloodshot under the light of the stars.

Drunk and alone, with a heap of magic at his side.

Now that was interesting.

Tavia stepped from the shadows and the trees rustled in warning. Perhaps for her to run and turn back, or perhaps to alert the others that someone was so close to their camp.

Tavia ignored the trees and focused on the magic by Nolan’s feet. She could take on one drunk busker, and his backpack looked too good to resist.

How funny it would be to rob the same guy twice in just a matter of weeks.

How hilarious it would be when she told Karam about it later.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tavia said.

Nolan looked up at her in a squint.

Slowly, he zipped his pants back up.

“Are you following me?” he asked in a slur.

“No,” Tavia said. “Are you alone?”

“No,” he said, but it was clearly a lie.