Page 13 of Gold & Shadow

“I didn’t evenheistanything,“ I protested, grumbling like a spoiled child.

Orson chuckled again, touching a warm finger to my chin. “Attempted heist, then,” he amended, gently guiding my chin so that our eyes met. “Promise me.”

There was something both serious and seductive in his gaze, like my promise would mean more than just ending my criminal pursuits.

“Half now,” I demanded, trying to maintain my facade of a competent criminal. “And I want to know what the amulet does.

Orson laughed. “None now,” he countered. “And I’ll triple the payment.”

Triple? I licked my lips, imagining how far six hundred crowns would stretch. He must keep his money somewhere else if he wasn’t willing to pay me any up front, but the allure of so much was worth the risk.

I swallowed, “And the amulet?”

Orson frowned, looking down at the gold pendant. It looked positively tiny in his giant hands, and he sighed.

“The bear-shifters are not like other shifters,” he said, looking at me with a sadness I didn’t yet understand. “Others keep theirminds when they shift, remembering their names. Their families. But the bears…”

He trailed off, looking out the darkening window, my stomach rumbled loudly, and he laughed, standing and going to the kitchen. The distraction seemed to help him speak of whatever it was.

“Lycon, the shifter god, was said to be in love with a female bear-shifter, Artis. But she refused him,” Orson said, telling the story as if it were a well-known fable. I knew very few stories of the gods, only that there had been several, and each had created a different race of peoples.

“In his anger, Lycon cursed the bears to forget themselves when they shifted,” he continued, returning to sit next to me on the sofa with two bowls of stew. “If she wouldn’t love him, then she could remain a beast.”

“That’s terrible,” I gasped, aghast at this manipulation. “No wonder she didn’t return his love.”

“Annwyn, the mother goddess, was angry that one of the gods had so abused his creations,” Orson continued, watching me eat with something akin to satisfaction. “She turned to Durin, the dwarven forgefather, and asked for his help.”

He touched the gold paw, then held it out to me to examine. “He crafted amulets imbued with dwarven blood magic. We call them “Artis’ Paw.” As long as we wear one, we remember ourselves when we shift.”

“You can’t shift back without one?” I asked, frowning at the intricate runes carved on the paw, so similar to the designs on the fingers that held it.

“No,” Orson said, gently taking the amulet and tucking it back down his shirt. “We become animals fueled by pure instinct. The first bears who shifted after the curse killed their children, their friends. They forgot themselves completely.”

“Gods!” I exclaimed, putting my hand over my heart.

He cleared his throat. “The families who were gifted the amulets passed them down to their children, and their children’s children, but there are a limited number.”

“Is that why there are so few of you?” I asked, guessing the reason for Orson’s isolation.

“Partially,” he replied. “Twelve years ago, about the same time as the endless winter began, several amulets were stolen. Shifters went missing. My den…”

He trailed off, and I didn’t need to know the rest to understand what had happened. They had been lost, and now he was alone.

“You think Victor knows who has them,” I said, thinking of his anxiety about this job. “The amulets, I mean.”

“It’s the first lead I’ve had in more than a decade,” Orson said, looking down at me, his jaw tight. “My mother was taken. My father killed. Their amulets stolen. And I’ve been hunting for them ever since.”

“Do you think it’s a coincidence,” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip, “that my parents went missing at that same time? That the endless winter also began around then?”

Orson gave me a look so gentle and understanding it made warmth curl in me. “Perhaps,” he said, shaking his head. “But I don’t really believe in coincidences, Little Thief.”

We sat in silence for a minute, only the sound of the fire crackling breaking the quiet between us. Orson had lost his family, just as I had. But I had my sisters. A purpose. He had been alone—truly alone—for twelve years.

“I’ll help you,” I declared, putting my hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’ll help figure out why Victor wants your amulet. Who is behind this, if I can.”

Orson put his free hand over mine and lowered his head so our brows were touching. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, his eyes closed against whatever emotion he was feeling.

“For a price,” I added, trying to lighten the mood. “As we agreed.”