The storm rolled in before dawn.
Rain pattered softly against the rooftops as I watched from my perch above the market square. A few vendors braved the weather, setting up stalls beneath sagging tarps, their voices muffled by the drizzle. The city was waking, but the tension in my muscles hadn't faded.
Cassian had hesitated last night. That alone told me more about him than any whispered rumor.
A man like him should have killed me the moment he had the chance. But he hadn't.
Why?
I needed answers.
But first, I needed a new job.
The stolen gold was at the bottom of the Seine, and my pockets were lighter than I liked. Rousseau would have work for me, but the job I wanted—the one that would push me deeper into Devereaux's world—wouldn't come from him.
It would come from her.
---
The Black Swan was one of Paris's more refined establishments, a place where men in velvet coats played games of power over expensive wine. But beneath the perfume and polished floors, secrets were traded like currency.
And no one traded secrets better than Margot LaRue.
She was a legend in the underworld, a former courtesan who had turned her connections into an empire of whispers. If something valuable was happening in Paris, Margot knew about it. And if she liked you, she might even share.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt the shift in the air. Eyes flicked toward me—some curious, some wary. I wasn't dressed like the usual clientele, but I wasn't turned away.
I walked with confidence, my steps light, my smile knowing. A girl who belonged.
Margot sat in her usual place, draped across a chaise lounge near the back. Dark curls framed a face that had once been called the most beautiful in Paris, but it was her eyes—sharp and calculating—that held real power.
She didn't look up as I approached.
"I heard you made quite the scene last night," she said lazily.
I smirked. "Would you expect anything less?"
She chuckled, finally meeting my gaze. "You stole from Devereaux."
"And threw it into the river," I added.
Now I had her full attention.
Margot's lips curled into a slow, amused smile. "You are either very bold or very foolish."
"Both." I leaned against the arm of her chaise. "And I need a job."
She studied me for a long moment, then exhaled through her nose, thoughtful. "Devereaux isn't the only one moving pieces in this game, ma chérie. There's another player. One with far more reach than a single baron."
I tilted my head. "And you want me to find out who?"
She swirled the wine in her glass. "I want you to steal from them."
Now this was interesting.
"Who?" I asked.
Margot leaned forward, lowering her voice just enough that I had to listen carefully.
"The Crown."
A heartbeat of silence stretched between us.
Then I laughed, low and delighted. "Now you're speaking my language."