Spirit's End

Book 5: The Legend of Eli Monpress

by Rachel Aaron

Genres: Action & Adventure; Fantasy; General Fiction

Synopsis

First rule of thievery: don't be a hero. When Eli broke the rules and saved the Council Kingdoms, he thought he knew the price, but resuming his place as the Shepherdess's favorite isn't as simple as bowing his head. Now that she has her darling back, Benehime is setting in motion a plan that could destroy everything she was created to protect, and even Eli's charm might not be enough to stop her. But Eli Monpress always has a plan, and with disaster rapidly approaching, he's pulling in every favor he can think of to make it work, including the grudging help of the Spirit Court's new Rector, Miranda Lyonette.



But with the world in panic, the demon stirring, and the Lord of Storms back on the hunt, it's going to take more than luck and charm to pull Eli through this time. He's going to have to break a few more rules and work with some old enemies if he's going to survive.

Release date: November 20, 2012

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 560

Sample

At age thirteen, Eliton Banage was the most important thing in the world, and he knew it.

Wherever he went, spirits bowed before him and the White Lady he stood beside, Benehime, beloved Shepherdess of all the world. In the four years since the Lady had found him in the woods, he had wanted for nothing. Anything he asked, no matter how extravagant, Benehime gave him, and he loved her for it.

She took him everywhere: to the wind courts, to the grottoes and trenches of the seafloor, even into the Shaper Mountain itself. All the places Eli had only dreamed about, she took him, and everywhere they went, the spirits paid them homage, kissing Benehime’s feet with an adoration that spilled over onto Eli as well, as it should. He was the favorite, after all.

For four happy years this was how Eli understood the world. And then, the day before his fourteenth birthday, everything changed.

It began innocently. He’d wanted to go to Zarin, and Benehime had obliged. It was market day and the city was packed, but the crowds passed through them like shadows, unseeing, for Eli and the Lady were on the other side of the veil, that silk-thin wall that separated the spirits’ world from Benehime’s. As usual, Eli was walking ahead, showing off by slipping his hand through the veil to snitch a trinket or a pie whenever the shadows of the merchants turned away. He was so fast he could have done it without the veil to hide him, but Benehime had ordered he was never to leave the veil without her explicit permission. It was one of her only rules.

He’d just pulled a really good snatch, a gold-and-enamel necklace. Grinning, he turned to show it to Benehime, but for once she wasn’t behind him. Eli whirled around, necklace dangling from his fingers, and found the Lady several steps back. She was perfectly still, standing with her eyes closed and her head cocked to the side, like she was listening for something. He called her name twice before she answered. He ran to her, giving her the necklace, and she, laughing, admired it a moment before throwing it on the ground and going on her way.

This was how it usually went. Benehime hated everything humans made. She said they were like paintings done by a blind man, interesting for the novelty but never truly worth looking at. Eli had long since given up asking what she meant. Still, she liked when he gave her things, and making her happy was the most important thing in his life.

She stopped twice more before they made it to the main square. By the third time, Eli was getting annoyed. Fortunately, her last pause happened only a dozen feet from his goal—the Council bounty board.

“Look!” Eli shouted, running up to the wall of block-printed posters. “Milo Burch’s bounty is almost a hundred thousand now!” He stared at the enormous number, trying to imagine what that much gold would look like. “He’s like his own kingdom.”

Benehime woke from her trance with a laugh. Come now, she said, stepping up to join him. You saw five times that in the gold veins under the mountains just last week.

“It’s not about the gold,” Eli said, exasperated. “It’s about being someone who’s done things. Big things! Big enough to make someone else want to spend that much gold just to catch you.” He took a huge breath, eyes locked on the swordsman’s stern face glowering out of the inked portrait. “What kind of man must Milo Burch be for his head to be worth that much money?”

Who knows? Benehime said with a bored shrug. Humans have so many laws.

“I’m going to have a wanted poster some day,” Eli said proudly. “And a bounty. The biggest there’s ever been.”

Nonsense, love, Benehime said, taking his hand. Whatever would you do with such a thing? Besides—she kissed his cheek—no one could ever want you more than I do. Now come, it’s time to go home.

“But we just got here!” Eli cried, trying to tug his hand away.

Before he’d finished his sentence, they were back in Benehime’s white nothing.

Now, she said, sitting him on the little white bed she’d ordered the silkworms to spin just for him. Wait here and don’t move. I have to take care of something, but I won’t be long.

Eli glared. “Where are you going? And why can’t I come with—”

Eliton.

Benehime’s voice was sharp, and Eli shut his mouth sulkily. She smiled and folded her hands over his.

I’ll be back soon, she whispered, kissing his forehead. Wait for me.

Eli squirmed away, but the Lady had already vanished, leaving him alone in the endless white. He sat down with a huff, picking at his pillow with his fingernails while he counted down the seconds in his mind. When he’d sat just long enough to be sure she was really gone, Eli reached out and tapped the air. At once, a thin, white line appeared. It fell through the empty space, twisting sideways as it opened into a hole just wide enough for him to wiggle through. Grinning, Eli crawled forward and slipped through the veil after the Shepherdess.

She was easy to follow. Everywhere the Shepherdess went, the world paid attention. All he had to do was follow the trail of bowing spirits. The first few times he’d tried this she’d caught him easily, but Eli had quickly learned that if he was quiet, Benehime didn’t always see him. And so, keeping himself very still and very silent, Eli slipped through the world until he saw the Lady’s light shining through the veil. He stopped a few feet away, lowering himself into the dim shadows of the real world before opening the veil just wide enough to peek through.

What he saw on the other side confused him. When the Lady had left so suddenly, he’d thought for sure she was going to deal with some spirit crisis. A flood maybe, or a volcano. Something interesting. But peeking through the tiny hole in the world, he didn’t see anything of the sort. Benehime was standing in a large, dirty study, her white feet resting on a pile of overturned books. In front of her, a thin, old man sat on a single bed. The sheet was thrown back as though he’d gotten up in a hurry, but his eyes were calm as he faced the Shepherdess, his rings burning like embers on his folded hands.

Eli frowned. Why was Benehime visiting a Spiritualist? She disliked the stuffy, meddling wizards even more than he did. Yet the man was almost certainly a Spiritualist; no one else wore jewelry that gaudy, and the study they were standing in was clearly the upper level of a Spiritualist’s Tower. It looked just like his father’s, Eli thought, though Banage would never let his room get so cluttered. He never allowed anything to fall short of his expectations, the old taskmaster. Eli glowered at that, but before he could fall into thinking about all the things his father had done wrong, the old Spiritualist spoke.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of wonder. “The greatest of the Great Spirits?”

I am no spirit.

Benehime’s voice was so cold and cruel, it took Eli several seconds to recognize it. She leaned over as she spoke, bending down until her eyes were level with the old man’s. Her presence saturated the air, as cold and heavy as wet snow, but the man didn’t even flinch.

Who told you?

“Doesn’t matter now,” the Spiritualist said, waving his hand, his rings glittering with terror in the Lady’s harsh, white light. “You’re here, and I have questions.”

Typical human arrogance, Benehime said, crossing her arms. To think I would answer your questions.

“If we are arrogant, it is you who made us so, Benehime,” the old man said, his voice growing every bit as sharp and cold as hers. “We are your creation, after all. Or, should I say, your distraction.”

Benehime sneered, her beautiful face twisting into a terrible mask. It seems the whispers of treason were grossly understated. I came here to deal with a spirit who didn’t understand my very simple doctrine of silence and find a full-blown rebellion. Tell me, human, when those spirits who’ve stupidly thrown their lot in with you were spilling my secrets, did they also tell you that the price for such knowledge was death?

“And what do I have to fear from death?” the Spiritualist said. “I am old, my life well lived. I have spent sixty years in duty to the spirits. I consider it an honor to die asking the questions they cannot.”

With that, the old man pushed himself off the bed. He creaked as he stood, rings burning on his fingers as his spirits poured their strength into his fragile, old limbs. When he spoke again, his voice was threaded with the voices of his spirits.

“What is on the other side of the sky, Shepherdess?” he asked. “Why is it forbidden to look at the hands that scrape the edge of the world? Why do the mountains ignore the claws that scrape their roots? What secret horror do the old spirits hide from the young at your order? What are you hiding that is so dangerous that speaking of it, or even just looking its way, is cause for death?”

His voice rose as he spoke. By the time he finished, he was nearly shouting, and yet his calm never broke. The Spiritualist’s soul filled the room, its heavy power steady and tightly controlled. His spirits clung to it, cowering in their master’s shadow from the Shepherdess’s growing rage. Eli could feel the Lady’s cold fury seeping through the veil itself, but when she spoke at last, it was a question.

Why do you care? she asked. Even if I told you, you couldn’t do anything. Why waste your life on knowledge that means nothing?

Eli held his breath. Benehime wasn’t talking to the man but to the trembling spirits on his fingers. Even so, it was the Spiritualist who answered.

“I ask because they deserve to know,” he said, raising his rings to his lips. “And while you may control my spirits utterly, you cannot control me, and you cannot control the truth.”

The Shepherdess bowed her head, and Eli clenched his fists. If this man had made his Lady cry, he’d… He was still figuring out what he would do when a sound rang out through the still room. It was musical and cold, colder than anything he’d ever felt, and Eli realized the Shepherdess was laughing.

Do you know how many times I’ve been told that? She giggled, raising her head with a smile that made Eli’s blood stop. You think that you’re the first to demand answers? Please. I’ve been Shepherdess for nearly five thousand years now. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been asked those same questions, but I’ve never once answered. And do you know why, little wizard?

For the first time since she’d arrived, the Spiritualist was speechless.

Let me tell you something about spirits, Benehime whispered, reaching out to trace the old man’s jaw. Spirits are panicky, stupid, and willfully ignorant. They knew what was on the other side of the sky, and they chose to look away and say nothing, to let the truth be lost under the press of time. They chose safety. They chose ignorance. The only one who didn’t get a choice was me.

She sighed deeply, trailing her fingers down the old man’s neck to his sunken chest, tapping each rib beneath his threadbare nightshirt. You want the truth, Spiritualist? she said, her white eyes sliding up to lock on his dark ones. I’ll tell it to you. The truth is your precious spirits don’t want to know what’s out there, because if they did, their panic would tear them apart.

“I don’t believe you,” the Spiritualist said, though his voice was far less sure than before. “The spirits deserve—”

The spirits deserve exactly what they have, Benehime snapped back, anger cutting through her voice like an icy wire. This is their world, created for them, and its rules, my rules, are for their protection.

As she finished, her hand slid into the old man’s chest. Her white fingers parted his skin like a blade, and the old Spiritualist gasped in pain. He would have fallen to his knees had Benehime’s hand not been in his ribs, lifting him up until his face was an inch from hers.

That may not have been the answer you thought you were dying for, she whispered. But that’s the problem with demanding the truth, Spiritualist. It doesn’t always come out as you’d like.

With that, she slid her hand out of his chest, and the old Spiritualist fell. His body changed as he plummeted, growing thinner, the skin shriveling. Eli pressed his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming as the old man, now little more than a skeleton, hit the ground and crumbled to dust. His rings hit a second later, the gold and jewels landing on the wooden floor with hollow clinks.

Benehime flicked her hand in disgust, and the Spiritualist’s blood fled from her skin, leaving her fingers clean and white. When her hand was purified to her satisfaction, she reached down to pick up the largest of the Spiritualist’s rings, a great onyx band the size of Eli’s thumb. The spirit began to sob the second Benehime touched it, and she silenced its blubbering with a sharp shake.

You, she said. See what you’ve done? This is your fault, you know. Why did you tell him?

The ring did not speak. Benehime scowled, and her light grew brighter. Even through the veil, the pressure of her anger was enough to make Eli’s ears pop. He clung to the veil, watching in horror as the ring trembled. Just when he was sure it was about to shake itself apart, the ring spoke one word.

“No.”

Benehime arched a thin, white eyebrow. No?

“I’m not afraid of you, Shepherdess,” the black stone whispered. “No, not Shepherdess. Jailor, for that’s what you really are. You say you’re our Shepherd, our provider, but our wizard gave us more than you ever have. He fought for us, fought to learn the truth, and you killed him for it.”

Benehime’s white eyes narrowed. You want to share his fate? she said. You’re a strong stone, Durenei. Bow and beg forgiveness, and I may yet overlook this transgression.

The ring trembled in her hand, but its voice was stone when it spoke at last. “I hold true to my oaths and my master,” it whispered. “And I will never bow to you again.”

Benehime’s face closed like a trap. She clenched her hand in a fist, crushing the ring with a snap of cracking stone. The spirit gave one final cry, and then Benehime opened her hand to pour a thin stream of sand onto the floor.

After that, the Shepherdess didn’t offer her forgiveness again. She stepped forward, stomping her bare, white foot on the Spiritualist’s rings one by one. Each one died with a soft cry, and when her foot lifted, nothing was left of the old man’s spirits but dust. When they were all destroyed, the Shepherdess snapped her fingers.

The veil rippled, and Eli tensed, ready to run, but she wasn’t calling him. Instead, the Lord of Storms stepped through the hole in the world to stand at the Shepherdess’s side. He looked around the Tower as he entered, and his face settled into an even deeper scowl when he saw the piles of dust on the floor.

Erase this man and his spirits from the world’s memory, the Shepherdess said, waving at the dust. I don’t know his name, and I never want to.

The Lord of Storms folded his arms over his chest. “That’s not my job.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the Shepherdess’s arm shot out, her white fingers grabbing his throat.

I’ve had enough insurrection for today, she whispered. You are my sword. I made you, and you will do whatever I ask. Do I make myself clear?

“Yes, Shepherdess,” the Lord of Storms whispered around her hold.

She released him with a disgusted sound and turned away, walking toward the center of the tower. The world was silent around her, holding its breath. When she reached the middle of the room, she stopped and held out her arms. When she brought them down again, the tower fell with a sigh. Great stone blocks crumbled to sand as Eli watched. Books fell to dust. Wood splintered to nothing. The spirits died without a sound, too terrified even to cry out, until Benehime and the Lord of Storms were floating alone in the empty air above a dusty clearing, all that was left of the Spiritualist’s two-story tower.

I’ll leave the rest to you.

“Yes, Shepherdess,” the Lord of Storms said, but the Lady was already gone. She vanished like the moon behind a cloud, leaving the night darker than ever. The second she was gone, Eli fled as well, scrambling through the veil to beat her back home.

He barely made it, winking into place on his pillow just as she appeared. She looked for him at once, and he beamed back at her, but his heart was thudding in his chest. She looked like she always did, white and beautiful, but when Eli gazed up at her now, all he could see was her foot coming down, her hand leaving the dead man’s chest.

What’s the matter, love? Benehime whispered, sinking onto the pillow beside him. You’re shaking. Are you cold?

Not trusting his voice, Eli shook his head. Benehime sighed and pulled him into her lap. Eli cringed from her touch before he could stop himself, and the Shepherdess froze.

Never pull away from me, she said, her voice cold as glacier melt. You love me.

“I love you,” Eli repeated automatically, letting her move him as she liked. They sat like that for a while, tangled together, and then Benehime spoke.

Always remember, love, she said softly, kissing his hair, the world is a horrible place without gratitude or understanding. No matter how hard you work, you will never be thanked and you will never be loved. But we will always be together, darling. I will always love you, and you will always love me. Now, tell me you love me.

“I love you,” Eli said again.

Benehime nodded and pulled him closer, crushing him against her chest until he could barely breathe. Whatever happens, my favorite—she kissed him again and again—whatever comes, remember, I am all that matters in the world for you. I am your hope and your salvation. Love me forever and I will raise you up when all others are cast off. Though the world may end, no harm shall ever come to you. I swear it.

Eli nodded, letting the White Lady kiss him, but even as her lips landed again and again, all he could think of was her face, cruel and unrecognizable, as she crushed the Spiritualist’s onyx ring in her fist. And it was that moment, in the space between one kiss and the next, that Eli knew things could never be the same again.

After that night, Eli knew no peace.

Nothing changed at first. He continued as always, following Benehime wherever she needed to go, entertaining her when she was bored, telling her he loved her whenever prompted, like a little parrot. But he didn’t mean it, not anymore.

Now that he’d seen the truth once, he saw it all the time—the cruel shadow that lay behind her white smile. The way she held him just a hair too tightly. The faint threat in her voice every time she told him to say he loved her. But worst of all were the spirits.

Before, when they’d trembled in front of Benehime, Eli had always thought it was from awe. He now saw the shaking for what it really was: pure terror. He would stand beside the Lady as she dealt with the spirits, hating every second of it. Hating her for being that way. Hating himself for not seeing it sooner.

It hurt to think how childish he’d been, how naive. He’d thought he was important, having spirits bow to him as they bowed to her, but he was nothing but a shadow, an afterthought of their fear. It made him sick. Living with his father in the tower, the spirits had been his friends. They’d been kind to him when Banage had driven all kindness out in the name of discipline, and this was how he repaid them? Following their tyrant around, lapping up her attention like a little lovesick dog?

The truth of it ate at him like a worm. Everything Benehime did now—the forced kisses, the constant promises she wrung out of him—made Eli furious. Every day he felt more used and helpless, more disgusted, but what could he do? Benehime was always with him. She didn’t sleep, only sat beside him while he did. She never let him out of her sight save for those times when she vanished mysteriously.

Eli didn’t follow her anymore; he’d seen as much of her true nature as he cared to. But even if he had taken those chances to open a hole and escape, she would find him. Assuming the spirits didn’t report him at once, Benehime had told him many times that his soul shone like a beacon. All she had to do was look at her sphere and pick him out. No, if he wanted to escape for real, for good, Eli would have to convince Benehime to let him go. Of course, he had about as much chance of that as of convincing gravity not to pull him down, but even at fourteen, Eli was never one to let impossibilities stand in his way.

It took eight months before he finally came up with a plan that had a chance of working. He spent another month refining it, and yet another being the best possible boy Benehime could ever ask for just to make sure she wouldn’t be suspicious. Finally, when the plan was firmly cemented in his mind and Benehime was in the best mood he could manage, Eli sprang.

They were in the jungle far, far south of the Council Kingdoms. Eli had suggested the place because it was at the other end of the world from the Lord of Storms’ fortress, and he’d needed as few variables as possible. They were perched in the branches of an obliging tree, their feet dangling lazily in the air. Eli was using the tree’s flowers to make Benehime a crown while the Lady watched, her face beaming with love at the seemingly spontaneous show of affection.

The moment he laid the crown on her head, Eli said the words he’d been rehearsing to himself for the past eight weeks.

“Do you remember the story you told me once,” he said, his voice perfectly casual, “about when you first found Nara?”

Don’t speak her name, Benehime said, adjusting the flower crown with loving fingers. She’s forgotten, my treasure. Only you matter now.

Eli smiled his best bashful smile and pushed a step further. “Yes, but do you remember how you gave her a wish?”

Benehime laughed and drew him into her lap. Is that where this is going? she said, kissing his cheek. Do you want a wish, too, love? Silly boy, you know I’ll give you whatever you want.

“It’s not so much a ‘what’ as something I want to do,” Eli said, reaching into the pocket of his beautiful white shirt and taking out the folded piece of paper he’d so carefully snitched the last time they were in Zarin.

Benehime’s smile faded as Eli spread the paper across their laps. It was a wanted poster for Den the Warlord. His terrifying face glared up at them, daring anyone to try for the enormous number written in block capitals below him: five hundred thousand gold standards.

What is this?

“You remember just before my birthday?” Eli said. “When I said I wanted to be on a wanted poster? Well, I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately, and I think I’m ready.”

Benehime leaned back to stare at him, her white face genuinely confused. Ready to do what?

“Get on a poster,” Eli said. “I’ve decided. I want to be a thief. Not just any thief, the world’s greatest thief!”

Love, Benehime said patiently, if you want something, I’ll give it to you. You don’t have to steal.

“It’s not about wanting anything,” Eli said. “It’s about being the best. Bounties are a measurement: the bigger the bounty, the better you are at whatever you did. Den was the best betrayer, and his face is known across the Council Kingdoms. Milo Burch was the best swordsman, and now he’s worth more dead than some nobles see in a lifetime. Den’s bounty alone is five hundred thousand gold! One hundred thousand would buy you a good-sized kingdom. How many people can say, ‘My life is worth five kingdoms’?”

Benehime sighed and pulled the flower crown from her head. Her brows were furrowed, a bad sign. She was losing interest. Eli licked his lips. He’d have to play this next part just right.

“I’m going to beat that,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I’m going to be the best thief ever. I’m going to steal everything worth stealing. I’m going to be famous all over, and I’m going to get the biggest bounty that’s ever been, twice as big as Den’s. That’s my wish. I want to earn a bounty of one million gold.”

It was the largest, most impossible number he could think of. Across from him, Benehime shook her head.

You have the silliest ideas, she said. Why would you want to be a thief?

“Because stealing’s the only thing I’m good enough at,” Eli said, smiling as he raised his hand.

Benehime blinked. Eli was holding the flower crown that, a second before, had been safely grasped in her now-empty hands. Suddenly, she began to laugh, reaching out to ruffle Eli’s dark hair with her white fingers.

I can’t deny you anything, she said. All right, tell me what I have to do to get you your poster.

Eli took a silent breath. This was it.

“That’s the thing,” he said, leaning into her touch. “If the bounty’s going to mean anything, I have to earn it myself.”

The laughter vanished from Benehime’s eyes.

Eli’s hands began to shake, but he kept his attention locked on the Lady. If he couldn’t finish this now, he would never escape. “I want to find a thief to teach me,” he said, enunciating each word to keep his voice from trembling. “I’ll learn the trade right, and—”

Enough. Benehime’s voice had changed. It was cold now, and sharp as a razor. Do you think you can outsmart me?

Eli began to sweat. “I never meant—”

I may not pay much attention to the affairs of humans, but even I know you’re setting up an impossible situation. A million gold? From stealing? You’d have to steal everything of value on the continent.

Eli swallowed. “I—”

You think I can’t see what you’re doing? Benehime’s voice dripped with disgust as she took the crown from Eli’s hand and threw it on the ground far below. I’ve known for some time now that you were changing, Eliton. You tried to hide it, but I know you better than anyone. I knew you were growing distant. The Lord of Storms tried to warn me. He said you’d change, that you’d turn on me. He told me to make you immortal at the beginning, when you were still an innocent child. But I wanted to wait.

Her hand rose to his chin, delicate white fingers running down the line of his jaw. I wanted to let you grow into your true potential, she whispered. I wanted you to learn how to truly appreciate what you have here. I trusted that even when you knew everything, you would choose me above all else, as I chose you. And now, this is how you repay my faith? A transparent ploy?

“It’s not a ploy!” Eli lied.

Of course it is, Benehime said, slapping his face lightly. You know as well as I do you could never earn a million gold. You thought I was ignorant of things like money and bounties, and you meant to play on that ignorance, getting me to agree to let you run off in pursuit of an impossible goal. Let me guess, the next part was that you’d return to me once you’d earned your bounty and we’d be together forever, right?

Eli winced before he could hide it. She’d seen straight through him. The woman sitting across from him now was not the Benehime he knew, but the true Shepherdess—ruthless, cruel, and very, very dangerous. His heart began to pound as the hand on his cheek slid down to his throat, the slender fingers moving to press gently on his windpipe.

Come, dear, she whispered. Don’t look so afraid. I still love you more than anything. In fact, I like you best when you’re being sneaky. But we’ll have no more of this leaving talk. You’re mine. My pet. My comfort. My favorite. Now, come and make me another crown and we’ll forget all about this idiocy.

She lowered her hand and Eli gripped his neck, rubbing the bruised skin. If he’d been older, more experienced, he would have dropped the subject and started picking flowers for a new crown, but he was young. Young and desperate, and as he watched what could be his last chance at freedom vanishing before his eyes, he could not help making a final, desperate grab.

“You’re wrong,” he said softly.

Benehime froze, her white body perfectly still. About what?

“I wasn’t lying to you,” Eli answered. “I do want to become the world’s greatest thief, and I can earn a million gold bounty. You told me I could have whatever I wished for. That’s it. I want the chance to prove you wrong.”

Benehime sighed. Now you’re just getting desperate, love. The only way you could possibly earn a million gold bounty is if I helped you.

“You’re wrong!” Eli said, speaking his mind for the first time since the night she’d killed the Spiritualist. “I don’t need your help, and I’m not your pet. I’m a wizard and the best thief around. I can earn a million gold on my own.”

Don’t be stupid, Benehime said. You think you’re some kind of savant thief because you’ve snatched a few trinkets? The only way you got any of it was because I let you open the portals and steal through the veil. Part of growing up is learning to face the truth, Eliton, and the truth is that you’re nothing without my favor. Just a charming boy with quick hands. How could something so small possibly be enough to earn a million gold?

Eli swallowed against his pounding heart. “Want to bet?”

Benehime scowled. What?

“I’ll make you a deal,” Eli said, speaking quickly before he lost his nerve. “Give me the chance to prove I wasn’t lying before. Let me go learn to be a thief and try to ear