Page 30 of The Thief's Mark

“But you became an investigator anyway,” Cal noted. “Why?”

Griff gritted his teeth. He didn’t like dredging up the past. Better to leave it where it belonged.

“I wanted to help people.”

Cal paused in his ministrations. Griff glanced up and found him raising an eyebrow. “And your father, a Sunkeeper sage devoted to aiding all in need, took issue with that?” Heavy disbelief laced his voice.

Griff sighed. He tried to shift, suddenly feeling too confined here in this unfamiliar bed. But even that little bit of movement conjured a renewed ache in his numbed side. Reluctantly, he stilled and said, “Nathaniel wanted me to pursue law. To become a magister like my mother.”

Cal nodded like that made perfect sense. He resumed rubbing slow, concentric circles into Griff’s side. A pleasurable tingle rippled over Griff’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Griff couldn’t help noticing how long and nimble Cal’s fingers were.A thief’s fingers.

“So, why didn’t you?” Cal asked.

Griff considered shrugging the question off. He certainly didn’t owe a criminal his life story, even one currently in theprocess of saving his life. Yet something about the moment and Cal’s intimate touch prompted him to open up, at least a little.

“I intended to. I spent years studying cases with her, learning the ins and outs of Sanjarkan law. The plan was for me to accept an apprenticeship under her as a clerk and work my way up from there. But then, one of the countless criminals she’d helped put away broke into our house one night. She was up late working in her office. We didn’t find her body until the next morning.”

Cal’s hands briefly stilled. For once, he didn’t speak.

Griff once more averted his eyes. He didn’t want the thief’s pity. Instead, he stared at one of the eclectic paintings that filled the walls. It was a ship, he realized—a sleek sailboat slicing through the cerulean waves. The sight of it, powerful and free, gave Griff the courage he needed to continue.

“That night changed things for me. Sentencing criminals already caught no longer felt like enough. I wanted to take a more active role and put my ability to read auras to good use, solving crimes to ease the suffering of others who went through what I had. Nathaniel disagreed with my choice. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me.”

Cal hesitantly resumed administrating the poultice. His fingers were unsure at first, faltering and fumbling. Gradually, however, he regained his earlier groove.

Which was good: Griff could already feel the poultice beginning to harden, especially where Cal had rubbed it in. If he took too much longer, it would be wasted.

Cal worked quietly for a time before he spoke, his voice low and serious, “Maybe he’s worried about you.”

Griff snorted and shook his head. “Nathaniel enjoys feeling like he’s in control. He’s always hated not getting his way. It’s the fact that I defied him, that Ikeepdefying him, that really rankles.”

Cal shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t need your aura-sight to tell he was worried about you. He cares, Griff. Even if he won’t admit it to you.”

Griff’s chest constricted, and he roughly cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. “What about you? How did you end up in a life of crime?”

Cal gave a lighthearted chuckle that belied the tremor in his aura. “My backstory’s not nearly so dramatic as yours. Just your usual tale of childhood abandonment and growing up on the streets. When you have nothing, you learn to take what you can get.”

Though Cal’s voice remained light, a smile plastered on his face, Griff wasn’t fooled. “I’m sorry. That can’t have been easy.”

Cal gave another shrug. “Don’t be. It made me who I am today. And while you and I might not see eye-to-eye, I enjoy what I do.”

Griff knew he should probably let it go at that. They were entering dangerous waters that veered a little too close to Griff’s pursuit of Blackjack.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why? Stealing to survive, I can at least understand. But you must have more than enough to live comfortably by now. So why keep living a life of crime?”

Cal flashed him a rakish grin. Griff barely noticed it, too focused on the trembling state of Cal’s aura. Its erratic colors churned with suppressed emotion, like paint spilled across canvas.

“I suppose I just like to live dangerously,” Cal said.

Though his tone suggested he meant it as a joke, his aura gave him away. Maybe it was the medicine or a fever talking, but Griff found himself saying, “You don’t have to, you know. With a gift like yours, you could do so much else besides stealing and thieving. I can tell there’s more to you than that.”

Cal’s fingers faltered, smearing some of the poultice along Griff’s side. “You barely know me. Not five hours ago, youthought I was a despicable rogue and were determined to arrest me and haul me in to face justice. How can you possibly have changed your mind so quickly?”

Griff met and held Cal’s uncertain gaze. “Because you came back.”

His words seemed to rock Cal to his core. The thief hurriedly finished applying the last of the poultice, rubbing it in with far less care than he’d shown before. The instant he was done, he leaped to his feet.

“There,” he said, his voice overly chipper. “All patched up. It just needs an hour or so to do its thing. Anything else I can get you in the meantime? Food? Water?”