Walk by the Shadows

XXIII. Trinity Restored

The door they left Mercer's study through led to another pathway to the Ratway Vaults. Since Brynjolf knew where they were, he directed Macayla toward the exit since one could quickly become lost. She opened the door to find them in the Flagon's storage room; seated at his usual table and facing her was Delvin Mallory. He nearly choked on his drink at the sight of her.

"Macayla! Mara's mercy! What are you wearin'! An' why are you comin' out of the Vaults?"

She smiled; he hadn't seen her when she left with Sapphire's dress on. Nearly every other man in the Guild though saw her and had to pick their jaws up off the floor. At Delvin's exclamation, Vekel peeked around the corner to see what had him so captivated.

Might as well not leave Dirge out on the show, she thought as she headed for the thief. She walked past the tavern owner, following her every step. She fully entered The Ragged Flagon and smiled at Dirge, turning at the sound of commotion. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

She hefted the heavy bust of the Gray Fox onto Delvin's table. "Compliments of Mercer Frey," she said before she turned to join Brynjolf, waiting at the fake storage cabinet. She noticed that he still tried to avoid looking at her, but his face had drawn taut, offended that others had looked at her. Right before she reached him, Brynjolf turned away and walked through the hidden passageway to the Cistern.

Macayla followed him, trying and failing to prevent the rueful grin from twisting her lips. He was jealous. Warmth unfurled within her—Brynjolf was handsome, strong, levelheaded, steady and a damned good thief, and she knew she had always liked him; sometimes she thought that he felt the same for her.

She only meant to distract Vald dressing like she did, and after she felt disgusting and needed a bath after having his eyes roam all over her. Brynjolf looked at her in shock and she could literally see his desire to cover her up. But the maleness won over and he strained not to drool and tear off what little clothes she had. Because of the tension in his body now, he still struggled to refrain from doing that.

Macayla had known what kind of distraction she would become for him—he at least kept his hands to himself, unlike many others, but she wouldn't have minded his hands if he had. She shook her head; it was wrong to torture him so—she knew what kind of agony a man suffered around such a temptation. Looking the whore would always draw male eyes, but she didn't want to draw Brynjolf's in that way. She much preferred his eyes when they were on her softly, tenderly, like he wanted to hold and cherish her; not when they were glued to her and hot with lust.

They walked into the Cistern and Macayla felt the male eyes turning on her again; it looked like Brynjolf did too. Enough of this enticement—it hurt Brynjolf.

"Go talk with Karliah; I'll go change," she said as she headed for the room she had changed in and where she had left her regular clothes. He just nodded stiffly as he continued straight.

Macayla quickly stripped and donned her normal leather jerkin, leggings, and boots. Being covered up, she felt like herself again. She picked up the scandalous dress and considered it; she had been a good courtesan for Edvar—when she came up with her idea, she thought she could easily slip back into that role. Seducing Vald was easy, but Brynjolf's reaction had made her ashamed for pulling those emotions out of him. She knew he wouldn't force her to lower herself again.

"I'm assuming it worked," Sapphire suddenly said. Macayla looked up to find her propped against the entrance to the tunnel.

She forced a smile as she walked toward her. "Of course; thanks for letting me borrow it." She gave her back her dress.

"You don't seem pleased, though."

She looked at the dress in Sapphire's hands a final time before walking out. "I'm glad I'm not that anymore; I forgot how much I despised catching attentions that way."