With Thieves I Consort Riddle Novels & Stories

Beside the tray lay a single, heavy envelope. Elara opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a card of thick, black cardstock with silver writing. ******** The First Three Rules of the Sacrifice Clause: 1. The Shadow's Reach: The Consort shall not cross the threshold of any exterior door without the Master’s hand upon her. To flee is to forfeit the life of the Saved (Mia Vance). 2. The Master’s Call: When the brand on the neck pulses thrice, the Consort has sixty seconds to find the Master's presence. Every second of delay is a minute of blood owed.

“Give her the necklace!” “I’m sorry, Consort, but the Wargod Necklace can only be claimed at its starting price if she presents a golden ticket,” Ms. Thompson said firmly. The mistress clearly did not like that answer. Her hands curled into fists. “So you’re refusing me?” Her voice dropped into a threatening growl. “Do you want me to remind everyone here exactly what authority I hold?” She turned sharply toward her guards. “Guards! Tear this auction house apart. These lowborn wolves clearly need to be taught their place!”

She flipped open the document without waiting for my permission, pointing to a clause midway down. Clause 17: The Consort may not enter into romantic or sexual agreements with any other party during the duration of this agreement. Exclusivity is non-negotiable. I blinked. “Consort?” Clarisse adjusted her blazer. “A placeholder term. The Don prefers… discretion.” I was too stunned to speak.

The guardian nods in acknowledgement, her eyes gleaming with a profound understanding. Without hesitation, the guardian presents her final riddle, a warning to those who dare to seek. "In these hallowed halls, secrets lie, ancient treasures beneath starry sky. But beware, travelers bold and free, what is found here must never flee. To pass this threshold, you must agree, the answer holds the truth, you see. Speak it loud, let it be clear, what is found here must stay here."

My companion nods grimly, eyes fixed on the foreboding lock. 3 minutes and 9 seconds left "That riddle was our key," Scarlett replies, "Now, let's help each other as we turn the dials to the matching symbols," With her words, I lean closer, studying the engraved markings as my companion does the same. One by one, we slowly rotate each ring, matching up the ciphers based on our best guesses. The symbols seem nonsensical, hailing from no language I recognize. They also seem to shift and change as I try to focus on them, making it nearly impossible to decipher their meaning.

Casandra whispered, "Perfect now look for anything that resembles a potion or syrup. It should be in a vial marked with a silver thorn." As we rummaged through the room, every footstep sounded like an alarm in the quietness of the castle. Casandra's keen eyes scanned the room, stopping on a small, ornate cabinet. Silently gesturing for me to check it, she kept watch by the door. Carefully opening the cabinet, I found a collection of vials, each labeled meticulously. Among them, one caught my eye – a silver thorn insignia adorned its label. Whispering to Casandra, I held up the vial. "Is this it?"

As it shimmered, the final riddle echoed through the chamber: "I find you only once, in flame or frost. Deny me, and you suffer. Embrace me, and you burn. What am I?" The answer was there, in my chest. A certainty that throbbed in my bones like it had always been a part of me. The one bond wolves feared as much as they longed for. “Mate bond,” I whispered. “It’s the mate bond.” Without hesitation, I stepped forward, placing my palm against the door’s cold surface. “Mate bond.” A heartbeat later, the door glowed gold. Passed 3/3. We all exhaled at once, the air thick with relief. Then, slowly, the bone door creaked open.

Delta Lane looked like he wanted to say something, but a look from Guinevere had him stepping back. “You are not rogues. You lack the scent. So where did you come from?” asked Alpha Rohan. There was hardly a pause before they chorused, “Silvergate.” The alphas sat up at that. Guinevere's ever-present smile vanished. Lane's eyes bulged. “Isn't that the alpha consort's pack?” Someone whispered in the crowd. “They arrested the alpha consort’s pack members?” said another. “That is a lie! Why didn't you say anything?” Delta Lane shouted.

"So he stole a special concoction and took the herbalist away. What's that special concoction?" "It's a secret." I nodded. "I don't get it, though. Why is the herbalist so important to you? You want the concoction, but this herbalist seems to bother you. She's human, right?" "Yes, the thief and the herbalists are both humans." "You have to defeat the thief. Find him at all costs. He owns a huge crossbow and is dressed in a thick, black tunic. He leaps on the canopies with no difficulty and is truly hard to catch. I provide you with the best weapons to slay him-"

They slipped down the alley, but the safehouse was empty. Too empty. Clean floors, no heat signatures, no dust. Set up. On the desk: a single white envelope. Inside a photograph of Ariel, tied to a chair in a dark room. Eyes wide, not crying, just waiting. And below the photo... a chess piece. A black queen. Connel's expression didn't change but Watson saw it, his grip on the photo tightening. “This isn't Dorian Kharon,” Connel said quietly. “Then who?” Connel placed the photo on the table and stared down at it. A moment passed. “She's playing her own game.”