Steal the Stars [REWRITING]

Nicole - Sweets and Thorns

Unedited 

We were idiots.

That much was clear to anyone who'd even gotten an inkling of our last job. It had been botched horribly, even if we had gotten away with the documents. I hadn't even looked at them; there didn't seem to be a point to it. I mean, why bother? At best, it would've been another boring document, and no one would ever realise I'd done it, and, at worst, I'd be in even worse trouble. We didn't need that. With an already botched job, I didn't need to bring any more attention or worry to the job.

I picked at the bandage that covered my wrist. As it would happen, the trees in the woods behind the Count's estate were covered in dilteed vines–a nasty plant covered in thorns. Dilteed vines sought out warmth, and, if they found it, would wrap around the source and sink their thorns into it. Unfortunately, that warmth had been my wrist. I hadn't seen them in the dark, and my attention had been focused on the ground beneath me; I'd been up there to check if the coast was clear, so Leo and I could run. Leo hadn't stopped apologising since, but it had been my own fault. A stupid mistake. That seemed to be the theme of the night: stupid.

I tapped my nails against the sticky table in front of me. My kiyucuri remained untouched in front of me, the sweet bread tasting a horrible sickly sweet, instead of the dessert it was supposed to be. I hadn't grown up with kiyucuri–or really anything sweet, or much food at all–and Annabelle had immediately set about trying to introduce me to literally every Itarise dessert. She'd recruited Leo to cook or bake everything and anything she could think of. Unfortunately for her, I was not a food person.

Annabelle, on the other hand, contentedly dipped her kiyucuri into her hot chocolate–ew, in my opinion. Her nails were a bright, vivid red, unmistakable wrapped around her white mug. They were probably the brightest thing in the diner, which faded into the background. Dull white paint, scuffed brown tables, muted background buzz, and remarkably average food. Ironically, it was one of the better places near the inn. At any rate, it was certainly better than the food at the inn, and also slightly further away from prying eyes and pricked up ears. As long as you were careful, that was.

Annabelle dunked another piece of her kiyucuri. "Think we'll ever get another job?" Annabelle asked grimly. "Because that was a mess."

It had been. "I don't know," I said. "At this point, it's entirely believable that we won't. If the job gets around, that is."

"Well, we'll just have to hope that it doesn't." She said it with such determination–like she was personally going to stop the news from getting around and secure our futures. Good for her, I supposed.

I pinched my lips together. "I don't think we have much control over that, Belle. I don't think hope is going to take us very far. If it gets out, we're over. There's nothing we can do about that."

Annabelle shrugged, unconcerned. "There's got to be something we can do. Plus, it only affects us if word gets out. If it doesn't...I think we'll be fine." She smeared jam across her kiyucuri, and I wrinkled my nose. First the hot chocolate, now the jam. She was really determined to ruin the kiyucuri. "We just don't mention it–especially at the inn."

Automatically, my eyes darted around the diner. Just because the diner might have been marginally better than the inn to discuss something like this, it didn't mean it was a good place. There were still plenty of people listening, hoping to get something useful. Bribery, blackmail–all of it could be fueled by information. Our botched job would be picked up quickly, regardless of who they were. I would have done the same. It didn't matter who you were: if you messed something up, it'd be everywhere, instantly. Taking someone else down a peg would only raise you up, and that was never a bad thing.