Kildare hunched in front of the inn’s common room fireplace, rubbing at his hands in a desperate attempt to work some of the chill out of his bones. They’d traveled the night of the heist, all the next day, and had finally arrived here in Helryen, where the buyer had set up their meeting point. It had poured rain the entire time, and the chill had seeped into his skin, like it would never leave.

Kildare clenched his teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. He desperately hoped that their next job would take them to a warmer climate. Not Lerem in the spring. Never again. Rotted swampland.

Fir flopped into the chair opposite him and pushed a drink across the table. “Mulled wine.”

Kildare grabbed it and gulped half the tankard. It burned down his throat and he closed his eyes and breathed out, relishing the feel of steam in his nostrils. He started to upend the rest of the wine into his mouth, but Fir reached out, caught his arm, the bark-like skin of his hand producing a faint scraping noise against Kildare's own rough-textured arm.

“Easy, easy.” Fir lowered his voice. “It may be Lerem but…you never know who might be willing to earn some extra coin from slave traders.”

Kildare glanced over at the bar on the far side of the room. The scrawny barkeeper, just a few years younger than himself, ducked his head, pretending to be absorbed in scrubbing a sticky spot on the bar. Kildare twisted his lips to the side. Fir was right. Even though wyvern could walk free in Lerem, it still paid to be careful. Unscrupulous people had no problem kidnapping wyverns and spiriting them away in the middle of the night, to be later sold into slavery in other countries. Do’or or Ermen or Teshinn would welcome another shifter slave.

He smacked the cup down on the table and sighed. “When are Mock and Snitch due back from meeting the buyer?”

“Any time now I think.” There was a short pause, and then Fir said quietly, “Are you…feeling all right?”

Kildare raised his head. Fir had his arms folded on the table top, leaning against them as he surveyed Kildare with a worried expression. Kildare forced a grin. “Yeah, don’t bother about me. I’m just tired of being cold.”

Fir snorted. “We’re all tired of being cold.”

The front door slammed open, wafting a burst of cold air and rain into the place. Snitch and Mock stomped in, shaking their cloaks and hoods out and scraping their muddy boots on the hemp-bristle rug. Mock came straight to them, while Snitch headed to the bar.

“Get it?” Kildare asked in a low voice.

Mock sat beside him on the bench and placed a hand on the bag at her side. “Double, even.”

Kildare raised his eyebrows. H'd told Mock to renegotiate the deal, but he hadn't expected that. “How’d you manage that?”

“Oh, y’know.” Snitch plunked down beside Fir. “A little blackmail, a little threat…does wonders for someone’s attitude.”

Kildare felt a brief flash of sympathy for the buyer. But, he’d been the one stupid enough to seek them out personally, rather than go through an intermediary. People were stupid—they never expected thieves to use every advantage they could get. 

Mock unclasped her cloak pin and set the cloak and her satchel in a neat bundle beside her on the bench. The barkeep came over, bringing a tray with a glass of wine for Mock and two small glasses filled with a honey-colored drink—Snitch’s favorite, violetia. Kildare could smell the floral liquor a mile away.

Snitch waited until the barkeep had left, then raised one glass. “Here’s to money.” He downed the drink in one gulp and slammed the glass on the table, grimacing.

“Here’s to another successful job,” Kildare said, raising his mug and forcing a smile on his face.

Mock and Fir joined him in the toast.

Snitch sipped his second glass, a flush already rising to his cheeks from the strong liquor. “Should we head up to our rooms and count our spoils?” His voice already had a slight slur to it.

Kildare shot him a worried look. The violetia was strong, almost medicinal, but it usually didn’t hit Snitch that quickly. "Worried he shorted us?"

"Nah, just wanna get on to celebrating." Snitch winked at Mock.

Mock rolled her eyes.

Snitch got up, heading for the stairs at the back of the room. His gait looked steady, still, but as Kildare watched, Snitch put one hand out, brushing against the edge of the table as if to assure himself that it really was where he thought it was.

He sighed. “Fir, go order some food for us, would you? Snitch is probably going to need it.”

Fir nodded. “Another round too?”

“Yes, please,” Mock said quickly, getting up to follow Snitch. “If he's so bent on 'celebrating', I’ll need all the drink I can get.”

Fir glanced at Kildare and mouthed, That’s still going?

Kildare shrugged. Mock and Snitch’s relationship was so volatile and spontaneous he could never tell from one night to the next if Snitch would be sharing a room with him and Fir, or if he’d be sharing with Mock. 

He caught up with Mock. “Has Snitch already been drinking?”

“He made me stop at two taverns on the way here,” Mock muttered, crossing her arms. Her charm bracelets clinked and rattled against each other as she did so, and she rubbed one of the pendants strung around her neck—the silver engraved heart, if Kildare could tell it correctly. She’d once told him it was a Teshinn love charm.

He held back a sigh and curled his forefinger against his thumb, rubbing just below the joint. A quiet pang of longing shot through his chest. He needed to find time to sneak away later tonight. “If he’s a nuisance, just kick him out and come tell him to bunk with us—or you can, if you need to. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She gave him a quiet, trusting smile. “Thanks, Kil.”

Fir brought up two platters of cold slices of meat, slices of cheese, pickles, carrots, and flatbread to their suite on the top floor of the inn. The pickles were a bit mushy, and the carrots withered from a long winter in the root cellar, but it was food, and as good or better than they'd find anywhere else. They ate and counted the coins, only breaking silence to tell their tallies to Kildare, who added them all together and nodded.

“Two thousand even,” he announced.

There was none of the cheering, back-slapping, or hugs that had accompanied earlier heists. Everyone smiled, looked satisfied, scooped their portions into purses. Kildare tucked the five hundred goldmarks into his bag, mentally tallying his savings. 

Everyone else spread out around the suite. Fir and Snitch cleared the table of empty platters and began playing a game of cards. Mock curled up in the corner near the fireplace, pulled out her pouch of luck charms and talismans, and began re-braiding them into her hair.

Kildare retrieved his book and tried to read, but soon found himself just scanning the same page over and over. His mind turned to the team. They were all in a strange mood tonight. Celebratory, yes, but a year ago, they would’ve gone out carousing, drinking, and singing until the sun came up. Was it because Mock was mad at Snitch?

He shook his head at the idea. Mock was almost always mad at Snitch. Maybe it was because of how near to disaster the last job had come. And Snitch was still sore at him for the scolding about his kills.

He rubbed his thumb again.

"You're antsier than a dragon with an itchy scale," Snitch said in his ear.

Kildare jumped, then clenched the hardback book tightly in his hands. He hadn't noticed the pickpocket get up, or even sneak up on him. The thief stared at him, disconcertingly close. Kildare's fingers twitched into a fist, and he had to fight the deeply-ingrained instinct that told him to punch and run.

“Snitch,” Mock scolded.

“Well, he is.” Snitch’s breath smelled like violetia, flowery and bitter. He straightened up, still swaying a little. “Thinkin’ about Serene?”

“Snitch,” Fir said, warning in his tone. 

Kildare kept his eyes steadily on Snitch. “We didn’t see her this time. Why would I be thinking about her?”

Snitch shrugged. “Dunno. Seems as though she’s been quiet the last six months or so. Wonder why that is. She was snatching things right and left, right from under our noses, for a while there. So why quit all of a sudden? She sure had you in a twist.”

“But she hasn’t lately, so why bother?” Kildare demanded. 

Snitch stared at him. Kildare stared back.

“You sure you didn’t see her this last job? Maybe she’s the one who caused everything to go wrong. The maid girl,” Snitch said.

Kildare shook his head. "That wasn’t her.”

“You sure? Cause—"

“That. Wasn’t. Her.” Kildare bit out the words.

Finally Snitch shrugged and broke eye contact. "If you say so."

A twinge panged through Kildare's chest. Snitch didn't believe him. "I'm going to bed," he said, tossing his book down on his chair.

“Aww, c’mon, Kil,” Fir protested. “Don’t go pout.”

“He’s drunk, Kil,” Mock said. “You know how Snitch is. Don’t walk out in a huff, you’re playing right into his hands.”

Snitch snorted angrily and looked away.

Kildare just shook his head and walked through the doorway to his room, shutting the door behind him. For a fancy inn, the room was small, but he hadn't chosen the room because of that. He locked the door and sighed heavily, then reached for the dragonsbane-fiber leggings on the bed.

Drunk or not, Snitch had managed to break open the same old wound again.

He pushed open the window, reached out and grabbed the gutter hanging over the roof's overhand, and heaved himself up onto the windowsill. From his seated position, he was able to easily climb up onto the roof.

Kildare crouched at the edge for a moment. It had stopped raining, finally. Wind whistled through the maze of chimneypots and rooftops, and the moon peered from between the ragged edges of two clouds. He shivered and rubbed his bare arms. Below him on the street, covered gas lanterns sputtered, and beyond the circle of wealthy inns, shops, and houses in the middle of the town, darkness stretched. The poorer sections couldn't afford gas lanterns, which meant that as the rain had put out their torches and lanterns, they'd stayed out.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. They could be doing so much more. Memories of childhood nights spent huddled in broken refuse barrels and under hanging eaves to avoid the rain rose in his memory. Kildare shoved them away and looked down from the rest of the town.

He scanned the windows across the inn's U-shaped courtyard and spotted a red underskirt hanging from an open frame, as if the skirt was drying in the evening breeze. His heartbeat quickened a little, and Kildare ran a hand around his suddenly warm neck.

Snitch knew. Or suspected. 

He hadn't meant it to be like this, all the sneaking around. At first, she'd been an annoyance. Following their heists, and sometimes even breaking in and snatching the item they were after before they had a chance to. Leaving notes with hidden messages on them, messages that asked for his help.

It had gone from irritation to rivalry to obsession. And then he'd actually caught her, doing recon before a job. If only he'd known how much his life would change that night...

Kildare shifted into his wyvern form. He lifted his wings to catch the breeze, leaped, and sailed across the courtyard. Just before he hit the opposite wall, he shifted back, grabbed the window frame, and slid into the room. He turned back to the window and grabbed the underskirt, folding it up carefully.

"Serene?" he called softly.

There was a splash, and her voice rang from the bath area. "Sparks almighty, Kil!" Her head popped above the foldout partition, wet hair and shifter stripes glistening in the moonlight. She tried to frown at him. "One of these days, sir, I'm going to accidentally stab you when you keep sneaking up on me like that."

Kildare laughed and pulled the windowpane closed. He paused a moment, watching the lit window across the courtyard, where his team still sat, Fir and Snitch once again bent over a game of cards. Mock joined them at the table, wrapping the end of a braid in colored thread to keep it tied, and suddenly looked out the window, across the courtyard. Kildare stepped back. He knew she couldn't see him, but still. He took a deep breath and turned away from the window.

He hadn't known what to expect the night he'd finally decided to meet her, like she'd been requesting. He hadn't expected to be able to sneak up on her, either. Kildare still vividly remembered the moment he'd gotten her pinned to the ground and had yanked her hood back.. Then he'd seen the stripes on the woman's cheeks and neck. 

She could've killed him then, but she didn't. Instead, she had sat up and moved away, asking him to please hear her out. 

It had started as a game, but now she was serious. She wanted on his team. And since  they operated as a separate team, not under the jurisdiction of any crimelord of any city, that meant she'd taken things into her own hands to get his attention. That had intrigued him enough to agree to meet up with her again a few nights later. And again. Late nights talking had led to comfort, an ease that Kildare hadn't felt since he'd left his hometown in Ermen. Maybe it was the attraction of being the only two shifters in the business. Either way, he could never remember who had started that first kiss.

A light touch caressed his shoulder, and he turned around. Serene smiled as she finished tying the belt of her soft cotton robe. "I'm glad to see you tonight."

Kildare leaned in and kissed her gently. "I missed you."

"You too, Kil." She pronounced it 'Kyle', like his parents had. 'Kyle-dare', not 'Kill-dare' like his team. It was one of the few things he remembered about his parents.

It was just another little thing that made him love her even more.

She turned away and picked up a towel from the dresser, scrubbing at her hair. "How'd the job go the other night?"

Kildare stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He nuzzled the side of her neck. "Later," he muttered.

Serene giggled and hunched her shoulders. Kildare tangled his fingers in her still-wet hair and pressed his lips to hers. She leaned against him, pushing him a stumbling few steps backward. Kildare sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap.

Yeah. Definitely later.

***

Kildare lay in bed, watching the sunrise through the curtains. His team would still be asleep, so he felt no need to hurry, but there was still a persistent itch in the back of his mind that wouldn't go away. He was going to have to tell them that he'd bonded the woman they all disliked, the one they thought was still following them around, taunting them about their jobs. The one they blamed for everything going wrong.

Snitch especially would be hurt. He may have grown up a street kid, just like all of them...but Snitch had always worn his heart on his sleeve. And his defense mechanism was lashing out. When Snitch found out Kildare had, in essence, betrayed them... Kildare winced at the thought.

Serene nestled her head against his shoulder, and he absently ran his fingers through the silky strands of her dark red hair. 

"Were you at the banquet the other night?" he asked, then winced again.

Serene frowned and propped herself up on her elbow. "You asked me to stay out of it."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." He'd done his homework when she'd first asked to join his team. As smitten as he'd been, he wasn't stupid. Everything he'd found showed that Serene had been nothing but forthcoming.

And still I haven't told my team. Kildare winced.

Serene's fingertips grazed the stripes on his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"One of these days, we're going to have to tell the team."

She bit her lower lip. "How much money do we have saved up?"

That was the problem. Her boss held her under contract. Serene had been doing jobs on the side for years, even before she'd met him, but with the two of them putting money toward it, they'd almost saved enough to break her contract, years sooner than she'd ever have hoped to do it alone.

"We got lucky...Snitch and Mock were able to weasel another thousand from our buyer this time because of the mess it ended up being. We should be able to do it after one more job, maybe two if they're small," he said. "Then you can be free of me."

She punched his arm. "Don't joke about that."

Kildare nodded, pushing the dark thoughts away. She'd been nothing but forthright with him yet. She didn't deserve him thinking that as soon as he bought her contract, she'd take off. And yet, the cynic in his mind didn't quite back down. Kildare rubbed his thumb along the unity tattoo. He'd have to redo the makeup on it before his team got up.

Kildare leaned over and gave Serene a deep kiss, trying to drive out the thoughts in his head. She hummed contentedly and wrapped her arms around him. Kildare rolled over on top of her, pressing kisses down her neck and collarbone. Serene shivered. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other clasping the back of her neck.

Serene glanced to the side, then sighed and pushed him off. "You should probably be getting back. Before people are awake enough to notice a shifter sneaking into one of the windows."

Kildare grunted and tried to steal another kiss. "I'll walk."

She smirked. "You'll walk? In your dragonsbane leggings? As if that wouldn't be as much of a giveaway."

"Good point." He tapped the tip of her nose and got out of bed. The pink and gold streaks of dawn had given way to a half-circle of light burning over the rooftops. Kildare dressed and pushed open the window, glancing across the courtyard. The suite window was dark now.

"What are your plans for the next few days?" he asked.

"I'm chasing down a lead," Serene said. "I'll have to have something to show for my time away, unless I want Basalt to grow suspicious. Are you planning any more jobs?"

"If we can find one out of Lerem, I'd only be too happy," Kildare said. "I'll wind-speak to you once I know more." 

She got up and leaned against him. "Are you sure we can't..."

"They're antsy right now. That job..." He shook his head. "It worked out, but Snitch thinks you were responsible somehow. Let's let their fears die down a bit."

She tipped her head so their noses touched, then pinched his side.

"Ow!" Kildare jerked away. "What was that—"

"I'm getting tired of waiting." Serene grinned and poked him in the belly. "I want to meet your family."

Kildare grinned and snatched her wrist when she tried to poke him again. He pulled her closer and kissed her. Serene snuggled in close to him, and Kildare felt a pang through his chest. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to tumble back into bed with her. Or take her over to his team and introduce them all to her.

But it wasn't the right time. Soon, but not now.

Every time they did this, walking away from each other for days at a time, it hurt worse. Like the cords binding them were stronger, thicker, and leaving stretched them too much.

He pressed his hands to her jaw, took a deep breath, and kissed her like it was his last time to do so. Like he always did. "I'll see you soon, my fire in the sky."

Then he turned and climbed out of the window.