Royce caught me smiling at him and shot me a hard look. I answered his scowl with a breezy thought, "Did you see that chicken back there in the road? The feathers on its head were sticking straight up."

I knew that making absurd observations drove Royce crazy. Part of me didn't care what he thought; I liked sharing my musings and he would just have to put up with it. Another part of me liked driving him crazy. I continued, "That hen looked like she was wearing one of those fancy hats, you know, like the ones the the women in Chadwick are wearing, with the feathers."

Royce answered by pulling up his hood.

It was a lovely summer morning as Royce and I walked into the sleepy town of Bramhurst. There were few people on the dirt streets surrounded by grubby houses and small shops. We'd been working together since winter. As a team, we'd had some small successes, but now we were running low on funds. Royce had said we'd have to get some coin soon, even if it meant simple snatch and grab jobs. I wasn't too worried about money, yet. I trusted we'd be alright. After years of wandering, self-doubt and uncertainty about what to do with my life, I finally felt I belonged. I belonged in a partnership with Royce.

Working, traveling, and living with Royce for the last few months had been many things - frustrating, exciting, and tiring, but overall, it was satisfying. He was different from anyone I'd ever met, a small man, he was quick, agile, ruthless and clever. The last week on meager rations had been tough, but I'd been through worse working as a mercenary. We'd been camping in the woods most nights with only dried meat, stale bread and scavenged berries for meals. But there were other benefits to being partners with Royce. Arcadius had been right - we were good together - in a fight, in a heist, and in the sack.

Thinking about Royce, remembering his hands on me, recalling the way he looked up at me with a fierce sensuality, kept the smile on my face.

We turned a corner onto a smaller dirt lane bordered by modest houses. I continued my deliberately banal train of thought, "I wonder if women will start putting chicken feathers in their hats. They just might. I mean, women put all manner of strange decorations on their heads. One time, I saw a woman wearing a hat with half a dozen large orange butterflies glued on. Can you imagine? She was …"

I was interrupted by a woman's shout, "Help, Help me!"

A thin man sprinted towards us, a young woman on the ground behind him. "He took my purse," she cried, "Help me please!"

Knowing exactly what Royce was going to do, I turned my attention to the woman. I rushed to her side and knelt down to help her up. "What happened?" I asked, concerned, "Are you hurt?"

The young woman was pretty, with dark brown hair and freckles. She winced, "My leg, it hurts." As I put my arms out to steady her, she grabbed me roughly, tried to pull herself up, then sank back down to the ground with a yelp of pain. "I think it's broken." She wrapped her arms about her and began to cry.

My heart sank in pity, "It'll be alright, Miss. We'll help you. Won't we Royce?" I turned to see that Royce had stopped the thief, as I knew he would.

The man was squirming in pain, Alverstone pinning his arm to the wall. Royce extracted his dagger, twisted the thief's injured arm behind his back and forced the slim man to walk forward. I still marveled at how Royce and I knew just what the other was going to do. It was uncanny. The way we anticipated each other and synchronize our actions felt intimate and natural.

The woman looked surprised and alarmed as Royce brought the thief over to us. "Oh, you caught him ... thanks." Although she didn't sound like she meant it.

From beneath his hood, Royce spoke sternly to the woman on the ground, "Give my friend his purse back."

I turned to Royce in confusion, "What? You mean him." I pointed the the wretched young man, a trickle of blood running down his sleeve, and struggling in Royce's grasp. "He stole her money. He should give it back to her."

Royce answered me patiently, "No, she stole your purse. Not that there is much in it." Royce glared at the woman, his tone menacing, "Give it back, now." Royce was the most intimidating person I'd ever met. I'd yet to see a person refuse when he talked like that.

The girl made a miraculous recovery, sprang up from the ground, and answered quickly, "Please don't hurt us." She begged, "By Marabor's Blessed Beard, we're just trying to scrape something up." She pulled my thin purse out from under her skirts.

Although this pretty girl had just tried to fleece me, (and she would have if not for Royce's insight and quick action) I felt bad for her and her partner. "That's alright. You just have to pick your targets better. Royce is one of the best thieves in all Avryn. You can't pull anything over him." I smiled at her, introducing myself, "I'm Hadrian."

I could just picture Royce's exasperated look. I knew he couldn't stand it when I introduced us to strangers. He certainly wouldn't be happy that I was being friendly with people who'd just tried to rob us.

The young woman smiled back, "I'm Lucy," she pointed to her accomplice who was twisting free of Royce's hold. "This is Jo, my sister."

I blinked in surprise, "Sister?" I took a closer look and saw that although the thin thief wore men's clothes and had short hair, the person had a the face of a woman.

Holding her wounded arm, the boyish-woman, Jo, answered, "Life is a bit easier, dressed as a man. Skirts just get in the way." She turned to Royce, impressed, "I've never seen anyone throw a dagger like that. Amazing."

Royce put away his dagger and asked sternly, "Who are you working for? This town isn't big enough to have a proper thieves guild."

Lucy answered, "Ain't no thieves guild here. Just Lord Foxcomb; he's the only real thief in town, the bastard." Her distaste for the noble was clear.

Jo peered at Royce, trying to get a better look at him from under his hood, "Really? You're the best thief in Avryn?"

Royce ignored her question but I answered proudly, "He sure is. Why, Royce could steal the stripes off a tiger."

Jo's eyes lit up, "Prove it." She challenged.

Royce crossed his arm. From under his hood, he leaned slightly forward, locked eyes with me, his brows arching up, silently asking me why I had provoked this.

I gave him the faintest of grins, one side of my mouth curving up. He got the message. I wanted to see him in action.

Royce threw his hands in the air, "Fine. We need the money anyway. The next man that walks by this ally, I'll show you the proper way to pick someone's pocket."