Page 14 of For the Love of the Quest

“Anytime,” Thomasin said casually.

Edith stood and smiled up at her with her too-easy-to-read face, and Thomasin’s heart twisted. She didn’t want to be the person who taught Edith that it was stupid to trust people, didn’t want to be her first lesson in betrayal. But Thomasin had to look out for herself. She led Edith back to the camp, and as they walked side by side through the forest, she convinced herself that she was doing Edith a favor. After this, Edith would know that if she didn’t look out for herself, no one else would.

“Why were you out ambushing people all alone?” Edith’s question pulled Thomasin from her depressing thoughts. “When we first met, I mean.”

“I get bored.”

“I go for walks in the garden when I get bored,” Edith said.

Thomasin laughed. “Rob a lot of people on these walks of yours?”

“Not unless you count picking roses. Although my father owns them, so I suppose that’s not really robbery.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Edith shrugged and mused aloud, “Roses, robbery—to each their own.”

“I don’t think my victims would share your cavalier attitude.”

“Hey.” Edith nudged Thomasin’s side with a gentle elbow. “Technically, I was one of your victims, and look how well that’s turned out!”

“Good point.” Thomasin smiled, trying to mask the bitter taste of the words.

“Why do you get bored? I would have thought the life of a criminal to be never-ending excitement.”

Thomasin considered for a moment, lifting a tree branch for Edith to pass under. “It used to be. I’d wake up every morning not knowing what was going to happen, or if I was even going to make it through the day.”

Edith grimaced, but Thomasin shook her head, looking for the right words to explain how those early days in the syndicate had felt. Once the terror and grief had worn off and she started to thrive in her new way of life. “The uncertainty … it gave things weight. Everything was a challenge, and every success was a massive celebration. I was always pushing myself for more gold, more women, more power.”

“What changed?”

“I got bloody promoted. Turns out management is a lot more delegation and a lot less doing whatever the fuck I want.”

“That must be a lot of pressure,” Edith said with a sympathetic twist of her lips.

Thomasin shrugged. “Just less fun than it used to be. Anyway, that’s why I sneak away when I can. Hold up some rich bastards to remind myself of the good old days.”

“Well, I’m very glad that you held up this rich bastard,” Edith said with a proud smile. Thomasin barked a laugh, and they let the conversation fade away into a companionable silence.

Once they reached the camp, Edith sat at the fire across from Jay, who smiled at her. They quickly became engrossed in conversation, and Thomasin was shocked that Jay had so much to say. She had categorized him as the sullen, silent, boring type almost immediately upon meeting him. But Edith, it seemed, could get anyone talking.

Thomasin would have joined them, but she didn’t feel like stabbing herself in the face with guilt anymore, which was what being around Edith was starting to feel like the closer they got to Slaughterbridge. She walked until she was out of earshot of their quiet voices but could still see the red bursts of the fire. There, she laid out her bedroll to try to get some sleep.

Edith and Jay went to bed, the fire faded to embers, and the scurrying of nocturnal animals echoed through the trees, butThomasin found no rest. Lying on her bedroll, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other fidgeting with her knife, Thomasin stared up at the sky. She used to be able to name almost every constellation. She had the vaguest memory, so fuzzy it very well could have just been an imagining, of her mother pointing at each star and speaking to her in a soft voice. Funny, she hadn’t thought about that in at least a decade. Her mother had died, and there had been much more important things to remember than which constellation was a ram and which was a fish.

The cluster of stars that might have been a ram was now eclipsed by Worthing’s face. Thomasin scowled instinctively and sat up. She stabbed her knife into the earth next to her. “What?”

“Did you send the ransom letter?”

“Of course I did.” Thomasin had dispatched their fastest rider with a letter for Edith’s father, telling him where to meet them and when. Assuming the letter had reached him, and assuming he wanted his daughter back, he would show up at Slaughterbridge tomorrow to claim her.

You’ve been a killer since you were a child.Marshall’s parting words spun circles in her head. What she was doing to Edith wasn’t murder. It was nowhere close to being the worst thing she had ever done. But somehow, this was the guiltiest she had ever felt, which was ridiculous. What Marshall had said was undeniably true. She was a killer. It was who she was. It was all she was.

“I don’t ask because I doubt you,” Worthing said in a tone that made it obvious that he had indeed doubted her. “I’m just trying to plan my day tomorrow.”

“Fuck off.” Thomasin glared up at him. “You don’t get to plan, you only get to do as you’re told.”

He raised his hands placatingly. “Very well, boss. For all our sakes, but especially yours, I hope everything goes to your plan tomorrow.”