Xanthy caught herself staring at the man called Ralei for the fifth time. She averted her gaze to a young girl in pigtails sitting beside him. Even then, the girl was...weird. In fact, as Rhys was explaining to them the situation and their reason—June had asked Xanthy to step back and she had begrudgingly agreed—she found herself studying the group who called themselves the Cutlasses.

Lufi, the woman who greeted Xanthy upon emerging from the sirtya, sat beside Ariden, running some type of rock against the blade of her dagger. Each motion produced a sharp shriek, sending sparks flying dully to the wooden floor. Xanthy half-expected a fire to suddenly blaze as if Seravel's throne decided to follow them here.

Ariden, himself, sat comfortably inside their shack of a hideout. He nodded along to Rhys, his corn silk yellow hair bobbing with every motion. In the dim light, his tan skin looked even darker. His scrawny frame became more noticeable with Ralei sitting next to him.

It's almost impossible to miss the big guy seated beside the heir. He had his own makeshift bench but even that barely stayed straight as it carried his weight. Various scars marred his arms and face and even the dim ambience couldn't hide them.

Beside him was a girl who called herself Faw when prompted for an introduction. Ariden had to add that Faw was their master thief. There's nothing that she couldn't steal, nothing that she couldn't get her hands on. Faw's almost dark blue hair was parted into two tails, secured by wires twisted together. Various accessories ranging from clips, barrettes, pins, and a comb decorated her head. No one gave the girl's colorful hair a second look. They're used to it, then.

Two men who looked the same sat beside Faw. Cohnal and Aeril. Twins apparently. They both watched the small girl twist a clip plucked from her collection a number of times. She transformed it from a hair accessory to a contraption similar to a key. Next to them and to Rhys's right sat the spy, Tria.

Xanthy eyed the silent fairy clad from head to toe in camouflage cloth with only a cut for the eyes. Tria sat in a rigid stance, barely looking at Rhys as he explained the Heiress and the Sovereign.

The cutlasses were dressed in an assortment of earth sprite garments overlaid with various kinds of rock-plated armor Xanthy had observed the guards at the Temple wore. Weapons decorated slots at their belts and their boots while swords lay perpendicular to the benches beside them.

Xanthy craned her neck up at the shack's ceiling. It's a shack, alright, especially when it reminded her of Viscount Shalt's house back in Cardina. The Disfavoreds called it The Shack and the old man didn't seem to mind to the point that the name stuck around.

The roof, shaped like a cone, towered over them in its patched-mud-and-dried-leaves glory, perched atop an enclosure of wooden walls. Bunches of dried straw were strewn around, hanging on planks supporting the ceiling, splattered against the walls, and stuck on some splinters on the wooden floor boards. The musty air tickled Xanthy's nose.

The night was quiet and the hearth's burning embers crackled as they should. Xanthy stared at June sitting to her right and she gave him a small smile. He reached out and enveloped her hand with his. Such a simple gesture but it filled her heart with enough warmth. She wished she could feel like that forever.

Marthiaq rested his head against the wall, sitting on the floor as the thieves ran out of makeshift benches as they welcomed Xanthy's companions inside. He looked tired but flashed a smile at Xanthy when he caught her gaze. She returned the gesture even through her roiling stomach.

"So now, we're here," Rhys finished his story, flapping his orange wings. He only did that when he's passionate about the topic. "And we need Ariden and the throne."

Ariden tapped his chin with his fingers. "I have nothing to do here so naturally, I'm inclined to go with you," he paused. "I'm thinking about the throne. You said that you have a friend looking for it in where? Rabante?"

Xanthy threw the varichria a glare. Why did Rhys say even that detail? Nevertheless, she faced the heir. "Yes, another friend stole it from Cardovia."

"That can't be the throne," Ariden crossed his arms and rocked back far enough that he might fall over. Xanthy breathed an invisible sigh of relief when he didn't.

"Why not?"

"Because it's here. In the Temple of Earth," Ariden glanced at the wall like he could see through it and into the whole of Jehnasson. "The Heiress has been trying to convince Father and the High Priest to give it up."

"What?" Xanthy ran a quick run through her memories for the moment Reeca and Elred told her they found the diamond at a cellar in the Heiress's hidden camp in Zoriago along with the ...torch. Well, that couldn't be. Because the torch wasn't even stolen during that time. So that meant...

"They're fakes," Xanthy breathed, her stomach twisting at the thought. Reeca had told her she and Elred had braved the Cardovic camp just to find them. If those thrones were indeed fakes, that meant all their efforts were wasted and Xanthy had to warn Nyxis before he did the same. Hopefully, she could reach him in time. Then, "How?" she asked no one.

Reeca connected the trailcloaker to Xanthy's synnavaim then channeled it to a map, locating other objects of power. She still hasn't forgiven the varichria for that but there would be no time for anger if she's dead. Reeca had claimed that when she checked the thrones they stole, they were, well...authentic. So, what was this problem they're facing now?

"Marthiaq, do you know anything?" Xanthy turned to the brownie seated on the floor. The brownie sat forward. His hair fell to his eyes. In a few months, it had grown longer resulting in Marthiaq having to push it off his face at regular intervals.

He did shove his fingers into his hair and pushed his hair back, exposing his rather large forehead. "No, unfortunately," he said. "If I am to guess, I think the Heiress and the Sovereign are trying their hand at replicating the thrones so they could carry on with their plan without going to war."

The idea that the Heiress and the Sovereign were looking for a way to create thrones from scratch was just as revolting as the notion that these women were murdering innocent people to get what they wanted. What kind of magic would they even do or have already done to achieve that?

No matter. Focus. One problem at a time. "So, let's just say that the thrones our friends found were indeed fake," Xanthy shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "What can we do to get the throne from the Temple the fastest?"

Lufi clicked her tongue, lifting the stone from her dagger. "By stealing it, of course," she held the blade to her face and turned it, looking for spots she missed sharpening. "I don't fully agree with Ariden agreeing to this but I see no other way. If what you're saying is true, then we don't really have much time."

The woman had a point. At the rate the magic was draining from the island, they would all be dead by the end of the month. Already, she had seen ancient trees fall, strong animals drop dead, and fairies stop breathing, completely. Even her friends, even though they weren't complaining, could feel the strain.

Xanthy, herself, felt the air getting thicker to breathe in. Her body worked with double efforts just to keep her moving. Her magic had been flickering for the past few months and even the Arbotro couldn't do anything about it.

Magic is given and taken away. It's a cycle of making and breaking. Magic is just being taken away and not being released. There's no way I can make something out of thin air. It's the Beyonders who could do that. The Arbotro had said when Xanthy asked about that.

Then, Lufi's words registered in Xanthy's brain. She whipped to the fairy. "What? Steal it?"

"Well, who do you think you're talking to?" Cohnal—or was it Aeril? Well, whichever—said. "We're hiding out in places like this because that's how good we are at taking things which are not ours."

Stealing. The brownie inside Xanthy recoiled at the mere notion of it. She glanced at Marthiaq. Did he feel that way too? These people...what have they done with their lives?

"Psh, don't look at us like we're murderers," Faw, the little girl, waved her hand in front of her face. She twisted her clip once. It clicked. "We don't steal from the poor. We steal from the wealthy. We steal from thieves alike."

Ariden cleared his throat. "We don't go around causing havoc and satisfying our needs," his deep voice distracted Xanthy again. "We're thieves with a moral code."

"So," Xanthy gritted her teeth. "Why are you proposing we steal the throne according to your moral code? If anything, you're going to be robbing your family and your people. Thrones aren't just a piece of jewelry or a bag of versallis."

A dark cloud passed across Ariden's face. "I know. That's why I'm doing it," he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "It isn't safe in the Temple anymore. Knowing Father and the High Priest old man, they wouldn't give it to me even if I ask nicely."

"So we'll take it from under their noses," Lufi continued almost as smoothly when Ariden looked at her to finish his thought. Had they always been this coordinated? Amazing. She nodded to her gang. "We do what we do best."

"So you're all coming with us?" June asked.

"It could be fun," Faw inclined her head at the question as if the answer's obvious. "Why not?"

"Uh, this is war, Faw," Rhys said. "It wasn't anywhere close to fun."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Well, will it include lots of stealing and messing around?" she said. "Yes."

Rhys opened his mouth and closed it, having been robbed of his chance to answer Faw's question.

"So don't be an adult and tell me war isn't fun," Faw wagged her finger in the varichria's direction. "It is."

This kid was messed up. Xanthy raised an eyebrow at Ariden. The heir merely blew a breath. "So that's it?" Xanthy threw her hands up. "You're all just looking for adventure?"

Aeril—was it Cohnal? Well, whichever—chuckled. "Well, are you expecting us to be allies to this Cardovia or Synketros?" he said. "We're thieves, Miss Vivenca. We don't have masters but ourselves."

"And me," Ariden raised a finger. The twins rolled their eyes and then proceeded to slap each other on the arm.

Lufi ran the stone once again against her blade. "We know what's happening around us, Xanthiene," she met Xanthy's eyes. "We will aid you."

Xanthy ducked her head. "Thank you," she said as genuinely as she could.

Ariden brought his hands together. "So," he dropped his elbows to his knees in some kind of conspiratorial stance. "When do we storm the Temple?"

"Wait, you're planning to storm the Temple?" Rhys sat forward and copied the heir's stance. Oh, he's intrigued. "From what I heard, the throne is heavily guarded."

Airden regarded the varichria. "I see that throne every day, Rhys," he said, addressing Reeca's brother with his proclaimed nickname. "I know at least twenty ways in and out."

"And I can disable any protective spell in this island," Faw raised a hand with at least twenty rings across five fingers. Xanthy gawked at the girl's hand for a good while. "Ariden may not have been able to tell me everything keeping that thing from spewing curses upon casual observers in the viewing deck."

"Faw can also break into anywhere," Lufi added. Pride colored her tone. "She once broke into Brittlewood and emerged alive and with loot. So if there's anyone who can handle the Temple, it's her."

Faw winked at the older girl. "Thanks, Loof."

"Brittlewood?" Xanthy cocked her head to one side when the name piqued her interest.

"A place where the doomed go to die," Tria's voice was as quiet as the wind but surprisingly still audible when she spoke. "Controlled by an autonomous system from the Earth Sprite monarchs."

Rhys turned to the quiet spy. "And you know this because...?"

"I spent a good while observing the prisoners and figuring out the security," Tria's eyes flashed to the varichria in a dangerous glint. "So that it would not be lost if one of us gets thrown in there."

"That place is still alive?" June said.

Tria nodded. "The last prisoner that I'm aware of is a banshee."

"Hmm?" Xanthy raised her eyebrows and regarded the veiled spy. "You wouldn't happen to know what that banshee looked like, would you?"

Tria touched her chin underneath her veil. "Female, blue hair, fur shoulder pads, tall, and I believe the name starts with the K sound," she said as if merely reciting off a memorized list. "She was thrown there a few months ago for abuse of power. She's from west of Drodham, judging from her gait."

West of Drodham. K. The coincidence was far too numerous Xanthy's mouth dried up.

"Xanthy?" June's voice speared in her head. "I know what you're thinking. And that's probably a bad idea."

"Is there a problem?" Ariden said.

Xanthy forced her tongue to unlatch from the roof of her mouth. "I know that prisoner," she clenched her jaw. "And I intend to bust her out."

Silence.

"Well, who is she?" Ariden said after a while.

Xanthy swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Oh dear. If they knew what Kymalin had done over the past few months, they would think Xanthy's trying to help Cardovia gain their ally back. For whatever reason the Heiress might have for discarding Kymalin, if their newfound allies knew of the banshee's past allegiances, Xanthy's efforts will all be wasted. So instead, she said, "She's a friend."

The thieves nodded with understanding. June demanded an answer and was probably trying to stop her from deciding things on the go with just a look. Of course, he knew Xanthy aimed to gather all the heirs in one place and that wouldn't happen without Kymalin. This was an opportunity she hadn't counted on.

Xanthy faced Ariden and his friends. "How about you steal the throne and I get my friend from prison?" she gestured to her companions. "They could help you."

"Seravel?" Ariden turned to the fire sprite heir who seemed to have blended with the wall in his silence. "That guy wouldn't even hurt a feather."

"Well, he did try to burn me alive," Xanthy muttered.

"That's because you flipped into my gates with a weapon," Seravel spoke for the first time since Xanthy got here.

Ariden chuckled. "Well, it's nice to see you again, pal," he said. "Too bad we can't have more parties in Lanteglos."

Seravel tousled his apricot hair. "Yeah. Nice to see you too. I hate those parties. Too many people speaking. I get why my Father banned noise in his throne room."

Ariden winced. It was a jab at the current state of Lanbridhr but the heir just joked about it like it's nothing. "Don't worry about it," Ariden amended. Then, he exhaled loudly before turning to Xanthy. "So, do we have an agreement?"

Xanthy smiled. "I don't know. Do we?"

Ariden extended his hand, daring Xanthy to take it. "We raid the Temple and you raid the prison. We will meet here tomorrow night. Deal?"

Xanthy shook Ariden's hand. "Deal," she said. "But first, I have a call to make."