21. The Break-In
The plan was simple, but Ronan explained it to Elena twice in the time it took to reach their destination, and once more to her and Sadie as they hovered at the treeline, just out of reach of the Merry Men residence.
His back was to the property. He watched the other two peer over his shoulders as if searching for something to reveal it as the home of a famous band of thieves rather than an unremarkable old house in the woods.
"Sure you're alright going in?" Sadie prodded. She stood behind Elena, folding and tying the veil into a makeshift mask over her nose and mouth. Though she spoke into Elena's ear, her eyes were on Ronan. "Might be scary in there. I'd be more than happy to swap roles."
They were here to act as his lookouts. Sadie would circle the house from the outside (and had whined about this extensively), ready to alert Ronan if anybody appeared out front or back. Elena would follow him inside to watch the halls in case someone slipped past Sadie's notice or, in the worst case-scenario, a member of the group had stayed behind.
And Ronan would go room-to-room, filling his bag with a very specific selection of items.
The plan was simple, and exceptionally petty.
"I am quite certain." Elena straightened her spine. Ronan nodded his head, both in approval and as a message to Sadie: Yes, I'm alright.
To prove it, he turned around to face the clearing in the woods and the home he'd run away from.
The house wasn't large to begin with, but it had always looked smaller at night. Browner, too. If Sadie and Elena were still looking for something extraordinary from the outside, they wouldn't find any. Ronan had always loved that about it.
He started across the lawn. Elena scurried to his side, and Sadie matched his pace, delighted.
There were no lights on. That was a good sign. Ronan wavered a second too long at the front door; it had a new coat of paint. A dark, rich brown, probably the only color Vito and Tony had agreed on. He ran one hand down the grooves until he reached the lock, one he knew would be troublesome to pick. He had chosen it, after all.
Sadie leaned over his shoulder as he went to work. "Ooh," she crooned when he twisted the knob and the door popped open. Troublesome, but not impossible.
Ronan shared a glance with Elena. She didn't say anything, didn't nod her head, and yet he heard the unspoken let's go anyway. Huh.
The door shut behind him, taking the rustling of night with it. He heard Elena's intake of breath at the darkness, or maybe the silence, but she didn't hesitate when he moved forward.
He stopped not ten steps later, in front of the china cabinet near the entrance. Though, "china cabinet" was a generous term. Second-hand, low-quality china had gradually been replaced with their most eye-catching spoils so that it functioned more as a trophy case. Ronan was after two trophies in particular, leaned against each other on the middle shelf: a golden amulet with a lapis center and a long, thin knife whose blade and hilt were embossed with tiny illustrations of some ancient myth.
Vito had never cared much for gemstones or jewels, but he had a proclivity for history and art. The souvenirs he kept reflected that. He had spent months trying to translate the runes on the amulet and discover the legend told by the knife.
Ronan swiped both from the cabinet.
At his side, Elena was distracted, grazing the tips of her fingers over a small statue of the goddess Aphrodite, sculpted from crystal.
"That one's mine," Ronan whispered.
"I had a feeling," she said. "It's what I would've taken."
He didn't know what to say to that. He considered for a moment taking the statue, and everything else he hadn't stopped for on his way out. At the thought of leaving no trace of himself in this house, he shut the door. "This way."
They crept down the hall, past Ronan's old bedroom. He only paused long enough to unhook the tiny frame from the wall next to the door. Within it glittered the odd foreign coin Vito had kept after their first bank robbery.
He slipped into the dining room as Elena dutifully stood watch outside. Of course, by dining room he meant the space the previous owner had used as a workroom, which they had turned into a dining room after the actual dining room was overrun by Mitch's weights. The space was much too tiny for a table and six chairs, but they had somehow made it work. Climbing atop cushioned seats, he plucked a stolen chalice from a mounted shelf, then peeled Vito's prized leather map off the wall. He'd always found it ugly.
The only thing he stole from the kitchen was a ceramic jar painted with pegasi. Elena raised her eyebrows when he emerged with it, then stifled a giggle when he opened it to offer her one of Vito's favorite shortbread cookies.
On the bookshelf in the living room was a thick medieval manuscript that Vito and Felix had poured over for weeks. It added an obscene amount of weight to Ronan's stash. He was struggling with his last prize, trying to maneuver an oil painting into his bag, when the door suddenly burst open.
Elena's eyes were wide and panicked. One look said enough: Someone's here.
No– Someone's coming.
Ronan gave up on bagging the painting, tucking it beneath his arm to point frantically to the back exit.
Elena ran for it. She didn't think to catch the door behind her, but it didn't matter. As it slammed, he glimpsed a shadowy figure at the end of the hall, rushing their way. Their cover had already been blown.
Which shouldn't have been much reason to gloat, but Ronan felt a sharp twist of pleasure pulling at his lips as he raced after his sister, as the cool air hit his face right in time with the living room door flinging open once more. There was a very particular joy in getting caught in the act too late, in running when he knew he'd get away, in being found but never kept.
God, he had missed this.
He turned over his shoulder to get a look at their guest, face hidden except for a sliver so all they would see before he disappeared was a pair of sly eyes alluding to a triumphant grin.
There in the living room doorway, dressed in all white with his knife belt slung around his neck like an abandoned tie, brandishing his dagger in what would be an intimidating threat if he didn't look like he was fighting a yawn, stood Amir.
The back door hit Ronan as it swung closed between him and Elena.
Amir dropped his knife-hand immediately. "Ronan? What're you–" His yawn pushed through the moment he relaxed. He looked ridiculously cute, half-asleep and carrying a deadly weapon.
"How could you tell it was me so fast?" It was dark, and they were across the room from each other, and Ronan's face was mostly covered.
"Would recognize you blind, I think," mumbled Amir.
Christ.
"What are you doing here?" Ronan asked.
Amir faltered like he wasn't sure himself. "I was sleeping, and then I wasn't, and then I heard–"
"No, I mean," Ronan chuckled, starting toward him. "Why aren't you on the job?"
"Only way in's this mini-door, probably for a big dog or something." Amir met him in the middle. "Me and Mitch wouldn't fit."
Ronan smoothed his hands over Amir's shoulders, down to his biceps, massaging into them. "Too big and strong?" he cooed. He was teasing, but Amir keened under the attention anyway. "Also, a pet door? Really?"
He didn't bother to whisper. Mitch was even harder to wake than Amir.
"Best we can do without you around."
Ronan ignored the twinge in his chest to slide his hands down to Amir's wrists and raise the one holding the blade. "Pulling a knife on me, huh?"
Amir grimaced. "Sorry."
"No," Ronan used his hold to place Amir's hands at his waist. They slid around naturally, until he could feel metal against his back through his shirt. "It was kind of enthralling."
Reaching up, Ronan dragged a hand through Amir's bed hair. Thanks to whichever dark spirit he'd sold his soul to, it fell perfectly into place after one swipe. Amir was hooking a finger behind the cloth over Ronan's mouth, closing the space between them, when he stopped short.
"Wait, why are you here?"
Ronan smiled sheepishly. "I'm...robbing you?"
"God, you never cease to enchant me."
He leaned down again, but this time Ronan was the one to pull back. "You weren't sleeping well?"
"I'm grateful for it now."
Amir took Ronan's face with both hands and forcefully pulled him in to finally get that kiss. Ronan's eyes fluttered shut, hands dropping to Amir's hips, only to be left hanging when the contact never came. He opened his eyes to see Amir's gone wide, fixed on something over his shoulder.
Ronan looked back just in time to see Elena's face drop beneath the window, out of sight. Sadie had no such decency, gawking at them through the glass.
"Ah." Ronan's face burned. "Forgot about them. I should probably..."
That Elena had seen them was enough to send waves roiling in his gut. But Amir tucked his head into Ronan's shoulder, breathed him in, and they quieted, just a little. "Don't go."
Ronan sighed. Thought his options over. Figured it couldn't get much worse.
"You could come with us."
Amir raised his head, practically glowing in the dark. "Really?"
You are the cutest thing I've ever laid eyes on, Ronan thought. What he said was, "Of course."
Right before the door swung open, Amir panicked. "Wait, is that your sis–"
"Elena, Sadie," Ronan started to introduce. He looked for Elena's reaction and found her face slack for the instant before she flinched and Sadie reared back.
"Watch where you point that knife!"
"Oh!" Amir startled. "Sincerest apologies." He went to tuck it into his belt, then furrowed his eyebrows downward.
Sighing, Ronan lifted the belt from Amir's neck and looped it around his hips. The tug when he cinched it drew Amir in. Ronan took the dagger and pushed it into the empty of the two sheaths, and Amir whispered, "I must confess, I quite liked that."
Ronan spun back around, blushing a little. "Amir, this is Elena, my–" he searched her expression for disgust or any of its counterparts. There was only shock. "–sister, and Sadie, my nightmare."
Sadie seemed to forget the poor first impression, looking very self-approving as she dropped into a dramatic bow. After a moment's hesitation, Elena courtsied.
"And this is Amir, my...my Amir."
Bowing his head, Amir lifted Sadie's hand. She shrieked when he kissed the back of it. Elena handled the treatment much more graciously, though her eyes were still saucer-wide.
Ronan's brain must've been a little sleep-addled too, because his own hands felt markedly unkissed, and he was maybe pouting about it. Amir, who apparently lacked impulse control past midnight, took both of Ronan's hands and kissed all ten knuckles in turn.
Ronan only glimpsed the way Elena jolted before he spun around yet again, blushing a lot, to steer Amir toward Bandit.
"Looks like you're riding with me, princess," he heard behind him as he helped Amir onto her back.
Elena made a weird choked affirmative sound. "Are you taking me home?" she asked.
Ronan looked over his shoulder in time to make eye contact with Sadie as she dropped to a knee to give Elena a leg up. He recognized the look she wore before she even opened her mouth, and he hurried to strap his haul to the saddle.
"Race you to the stables!" she announced, because she always knew what he needed.
They shot off on the horses. He heard Elena's sqwuak over the beating of wings, but Amir didn't even tense at the speed. Actually, Ronan worried he might have fallen asleep, but the hold around his waist remained firm.
Cool air whipped his cheeks, chipping away at the pressure that had been mounting with every glance at his sister. It was a moonless night; the darkness was soothing. Somewhere between his old house and Sadie's, he mostly convinced himself it was going to be okay.
He let out a triumphant whoop when Bandit was the first to touch down. Of course, Sadie could not accept this. She leapt from Devil's back the second they landed and shouted, "Last one to the hill is soggy bread!"
"Oh, you must be joking," Ronan groused.
But Sadie was already reaching for Elena, who sat sideways on the horse struggling to dismount without a saddle. Elena yelped when Sadie grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off, then gasped as she was taken by the wrist and yanked into a run, grasping at the skirt of her dress.
"You're a rotten loser!" Ronan shouted after them.
He dismounted, looped his haul over his wrist, and offered his hands to help Amir down.
"You aren't going to follow her?" Amir asked when Ronan settled both arms around his waist.
"In a minute."
He drew Amir into a long-overdue kiss that spread through him like lavender, unwinding the last knots of tension between his shoulders. Ronan took his time savoring the taste of liquid gold.
He had the nonsensical thought after they parted that there were stars in Amir's eyes, enough to swallow the night sky, then the ground-shaking realization that they were there because of him.
"You could've told me about tonight," Amir said.
"I thought it might present a conflict of interests."
Amir pulled a ridiculous face, narrow-eyed and smoldering, and lowered his voice to say, "Ronan, dear, you are my only interest."
Ronan groaned and pushed his face away, starting toward the crop fields. Snickering, Amir jogged to catch up, slipping his hand into the one Ronan held out to him.
At the hill where Saide watched the sun rise each morning, he found her kneeling behind Elena, talking less abrasively than normal. Ronan had to strain his ears to eavesdrop.
"...like the stories, but I've never practiced reading enough to enjoy it for very long," she was saying. "The letters start to get all jumbled 'n I get frustrated."
Even more soft-spoken, Elena asked, "Why don't you ask someone to read to you?"
"Not sure anyone 'round here's better off than me. 'S a bit embarrassing at my age, anyway."
Ronan realized as he approached that Sadie was braiding Elena's hair.
"I don't think so. I think it's sweet. Perhaps I can read you one of my favorites some day."
There was a pause that somehow sounded flustered. "That is, if we even– only if you'll have me, of course!"
"I'd love to have you." Another pause, this one even more flustered. Sadie's hand fumbled in Elena's hair. She was weaving in tiny blue flowers. "Have you read to me!"
Ronan cleared his throat. Sadie looked up with a start, then grinned. "Join us, you wet loafs."
Amir lowered himself and Ronan plopped down next to him, only to be immediately dragged between Amir's legs.
Ronan's eyes darted to his sister. Elena was staring, but she looked away quickly. She didn't seem upset, exactly. That had to mean something.
Amir leaned his head between Ronan's shoulder blades.
"Don't get too comfortable, loverboy," piped Sadie. "Now it's your turn."
Turning onto his cheek, Amir said something along the lines of, "Gwuh?"
"Have you always wanted to be a thief? You're the weapons guy, right? How many weapons can you use? Which weapons can you use? What's your favorite? Be honest, does Ronan drool in his sleep?"
Eyelashes tickled Ronan through his shirt as Amir blinked rapidly, trying to keep up. Ronan looked to Elena without thinking. They exchanged a glance, exasperated on his end, amused on hers, and relief hit him so hard he was almost lightheaded with it.
"So?" she said conspiratorially while Amir did his best to answer questions that just kept coming. Gesturing to the bag at Ronan's side, she asked, "Did it feel good?"
His grin said enough. He allowed himself to settle back and dug out the pegasus jar. "Anyone want a cookie?"
Amir chuckled. Sadie opened her mouth for one and nearly bit Ronan's fingers, then returned to her interrogation with her mouth full, plucking another blue flower from the grass. Smiling, Elena turned her face to the sky.
Time passed that way, the chatter behind him fading into background noise. Sadie draped the finished braid over Elena's shoulder. At some point, Amir leaned back onto his wrist to show her his knives, and Ronan leaned forward onto his knees to watch the stars. Elena didn't move save for the fingers she traced delicately over the little flowers. She kept him company without saying anything at all.
Eventually she broke the lull, pointing skyward to say, "Do you see those five stars right there? They form, hm...a rhombus with a tail? That's Delphinus. It's a small constellation, but it has always been a favorite of mine. It looks like a dolphin leaping out of water."
If Ronan leaned toward her and squinted and tilted his head a bit, he saw it. Or he was looking at the entirely wrong set of stars.
"And that tiny cloudy patch there, that's actually a galaxy."
That, Ronan could see. "Are you serious? A whole galaxy?"
"Isn't it incredible? It's the most distant object the naked eye can see."
Ronan didn't notice the other conversation had died away until Amir spoke up to contribute, "Andromeda."
Elena turned to him with a pleasantly surprised smile.
Sadie was looking up with rapt concentration. She whined that she couldn't see any of it, so Elena told her to lie back. They settled side-by-side, and Elena leaned close to match their eyelines and pointed, and Sadie made a happy little sound in her throat.
"And, you'll like this–" Amir pinched Ronan's side, making him squirm, "Andromeda shares a star with Pegasus."
"Shares a story, too," added Elena.
They worked together to trace Pegasus out of the sky, and it was even more of a stretch than Delphinus. Ronan's attention waned as the focus shifted from the constellations to the mythology behind them, something about Perseus slaying Medusa, drifting off to talk of jealous gods and sea monsters.
He couldn't have slept long, but by the time he stirred, the discussion had moved to something completely different. A book, he gathered as he blinked his eyes open. He hadn't realized Amir was so well read. That seemed like a stupid thing not to know about somebody.
"Awake?" murmured Amir by his ear. A kiss brushed his temple, and the frustration dissipated as quickly as it had come.
Sadie wasn't part of the conversation, but she didn't seem to mind. She might not have even realized, still staring at the sky, lost in her own world.
Distantly, quietly, he wished this night could go on forever.
It couldn't. Amir had to return before dawn, and Elena needed to get home before her absence was noticed. Soon, she stood, dusting her dress thoroughly, smiling gratefully when Sadie offered to take her back on Devil. It didn't reach her eyes.
At least, not until Ronan said, "Again. We'll do this again."
He already couldn't wait.
With a few hours left until daylight, he led Amir onto the gravel road that had once been so eerie to him but had long since become familiar. He was absurdly pleased to have shown him the farm, and Sadie, and now this path he walked nearly every day.
The sleepless night caught up to them without Sadie's particular brand of sunshine around. They took their time, made slow, unimportant conversation. Ronan was happy just to hear his voice. This, too, he wished would never end.
But all-too soon, they neared the city. In a kilometer or so, the country road would give way to pavement and brick. A rumbling sound picked up not far off, and he hardly noticed, having made this walk so many times. But Amir glanced up the road with heavy eyes and a curious tilt to his head. "Is that...?"
"A carriage," Ronan said, leaning heavily against Amir's side. He couldn't see it yet past the turn in the road, but the sound grew steadily louder, just around the corner. "They take this road sometimes. Can't imagine where some rich fuck is going at this hour."
"Returning home from somewhere he'd rather not be seen leaving, I'm sure."
Ronan liked the carriages. He liked the way the ground vibrated when they passed, and he liked looking at the sorts of horses that kind of money could buy. Movement of Amir's arm jostled him, and he tilted his chin to glare, but Amir was too busy yawning, raising the hand not holding Ronan's bag to his neck. He curled his fingers around nothing, then blinked, patting his neck, looking suddenly very awake.
The carriage turned the corner, and Ronan processed three things out of order. The first, only because it was the most jarring, was the way Amir jerked bodily to the side, toward the edge of the road.
"Walk, don't run," Amir muttered, unreasonably urgent, and all Ronan did for a moment was frown and let himself get tugged by the elbow. Mitch had once used a bucket of water to wake him on a dare; this felt vaguely like that, except there was no laughter in the background as he surfaced, just the strange sensation of having woken up all at once without understanding how or why and the chill of the water over his face.
Amir had turned his back, but Ronan still half-faced the carriage, so he was the only one to see the look that crossed the coachman's face in the instant before Amir's momentum spun him around.
Second, he processed that Amir had been reaching for the bandana he normally wore around his neck whenever he walked outside. The one that used to be Ronan's – the one nobody had thought to grab before racing away on Bandit.
Ronan had looked directly into the driver's eyes, had watched the man's arms twitch around the reins, so he shouldn't have been surprised by the screech that came next. But the grating sound of the carriage's sudden stop shook him so bad he stumbled.
"Nevermind–" Amir started to say, and Ronan looked at his face and felt all the blood drain from his own, because Amir looked like he'd seen a ghost.
A shout rang out at the same time, "It's him!"
"–Run," Amir urged, pulling hard, and Ronan stumbled again, "Run."
"It's him!"
Ronan started to run, and he didn't know why, and not knowing why made it twice as frightening. But nothing could beat the look on Amir's face, the sickly sheen that had taken his skin, the icy panic shining in his eyes.
"Halt!" This shout came from a different voice, one with authority that ran deep. Ronan looked back and saw two men standing at the back of the carriage. "In the name of the crown, halt!"
That voice overlapped with the first as he repeated, "Your Highness, it's him!"
And a third: "Stop where you are!"
The final thing Ronan processed was the color of the jackets the three men wore, the same purple that adorned the pair of stocky white horses drawing the carriage, the same purple as the carriage door itself – the same purple, he remembered, as the long carpet in the Great Hall of the castle.
Fuck.
Ronan stuttered but didn't stop as his brain caught up to his body, as he finally found a reason for the urgency pulsing through his veins and Amir's bone-crushing grip.
It was so tight that when Ronan did stop, dead in his tracks, pain scorched his shoulder as his arm was pulled between them. He didn't even feel it, chilled to the bone by the gust he had felt against his shoulder and the sound that had accompanied it, crisp and clear and brutal. The sound of a gunshot.
Amir whipped around. He looked even worse from the front. Ronan had never seen him like this, terrified. Furious.
"Lower your weapons!" he roared, so loud Ronan flinched like a second bullet had been fired.
Ronan shrank away from the noise, from the sheer command in Amir's voice and from the way it shook. With fear, or with rage, or– Ronan didn't know. He didn't know anything, didn't know what was happening, just knew he had been shot at.
Frozen with fear, he didn't turn around as a fourth voice joined the fray. This one stood out from the others in that it didn't come at a shout but a cynical, derisive sneer. "You are in no position to give orders." He spoke around a laugh, and Ronan knew right away that this was His Highness speaking, whoever His Highness was. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"
Amir stalked toward Ronan, and Ronan reached out for him, clinging for the edges of his shirt. But Amir continued past him, forcing him to turn to keep his hold, placing himself between Ronan and– Ronan and the fucking crown, apparently.
"Amir, what is this?" Ronan pleaded. He felt the gust of the gunshot like a scar. It rang in his ears. "What's happening?"
Amir wasn't listening to him.
"Do not shoot." He lowered his voice to a growl, but it carried.
His command was met with a broad, nasty grin, stretched into fair skin and framed by wispy blonde hair. The man leaning out the open carriage door was the only one not wearing a uniform. His coat was black, or maybe blue, and heavily threaded with gold from what Ronan could see. The rest was obscured by the body of a rifle.
He held it in a lackadaisical grip, but Ronan knew it had been pointed at him a moment before, and he got the sinking feeling the shot hadn't missed out of poor aim.
"This will all be much easier if you come quietly," said the second man. A bodyguard, armed with a rifle over his shoulder and a broadsword at his hip.
"I will not." Amir stood his ground, steady-voiced but trembling, almost imperceptibly.
The other bodyguard – who, Ronan realized, was missing his gun – started to reach for his sword.
"You cannot take me by force," said Amir. "You cannot harm me."
The man in the carriage barked a laugh. "Under the right orders, they absolutely can!" he declared joyously. He was young, not much older than Amir, and so Ronan knew he was looking at one of Diverra's five princes. "And there is a king who very much wants to see your return home, whatever the cost."
Amir snarled, "That place has never been a home to me."
"Always so dramatic," drawled the prince. He teetered further so that he was hanging from the carriage by one arm, gun swinging from the other.
"Run," Amir directed under his breath. When Ronan didn't move, he stepped back, thrusting the bag into Ronan's chest and bodily shoving him toward the treeline until he came to. But Ronan only managed to stumble backward a few steps. The fully-armed guard unslung his rifle with alarming speed. The barrel followed Ronan's movement, and Ronan went deathly still.
Amir moved into the gun's path just as quickly. "Leave him be." The order was sharp but carried the first lilt of panic. "He has nothing to do with this."
The prince pointedly handed back the other guard's gun, so that two pointed at Amir's – Ronan's – chest.
"Have it out with me, fine, just let him leave, please," Amir said in a rush. "Nicholas, please."
"That's Your Royal Highness to you," the prince snapped, smile vanishing. Nicholas; Ronan racked his brain. Nicholas, the second son of King Hector. "Do not beg, it is unbecoming. If you behave yourself and come along, I will gladly let him on his way."
Ronan pulled at Amir's shirt when the "Don't" on his lips failed him. But Amir stalked forward a few steps, and Ronan wasn't brave enough to follow, so his grip fell away.
Amir rucked up his shirt to lay a hand over the hilt of his dagger. "You've always been a terrible liar."
The prince's glee returned. "Oho! Finally grown some teeth, have you?"
"Must you treat everything as a game?"
"Must you be so utterly boring? What's the final verdict, then? Will you cease this ridiculous tantrum, or shall I bring you in myself?"
Amir unsheathed his knife. The closer guard's hand twitched over his rifle. The movement was far in the prince's periphery, but he ordered, "Put away those guns, men. They're unsightly."
"...Pardon, Sir Nicholas?"
"Did I misspeak?"
"As your guard, your safety is our first priority–"
"As my footmen, you will act according to my wishes." The prince didn't spare him a glance, gleaming eyes locked onto Amir. Both guards reluctantly replaced their guns. "There. Now we have an even fight, do we not?"
He stood, revealing a tall frame, and sent the guard who had spoken a look so threatening, he kept his mouth firmly shut and his gaze trained forward even as a gloved hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
"Now, little Rainer," taunted Prince Nicholas, drawing the sword and hopping onto the road. "Let us settle this as brothers."
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Song for this chapter: Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray
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