Thornhill Academy
Not A Good Thief
Kael
As I crest the last flight, the stairwell narrows, and that’s when I see…a bed. A shitty, lopsided bed frame wedged halfway up the
landing like it was abandoned mid–move. I stop dead, staring at it. Then at her. “What the hell?” I ask flatly. Her cheeks colour eyes
darting away. “Yeah… I haven’t exactly gotten around to removing those yet.” Those? Sure enough, just past the bed is an ancient
wardrobe, crooked door hanging off its hinges, half blocking the rest of the stairwell like some final boss in a dungeon crawl.
Fantastic. “Right,” I mutter, adjusting my grip on her. Ally stays quiet, probably hoping I’ll let it slide. Instead, I hunch forward,
shuffle sideways, and maneuver us past the obstacles with all the grace of a drunk troll carrying a sack of potatoes. Only difference?
The sack of potatoes in my arms is rolling her eyes and trying very hard not to look guilty. At last, the battered top door looms in
front of us. I exhale, long and sharp. “Okay. Now what? Are we planning on sleeping on the stairs, or are you actually going to
unlock the door?” She shifts in my arms, squirming like a damn cat that wants down. I tighten my hold before she can even try it
“Don’t start,” I warn, voice low. “Just unlock the door, Rivers.” She gives me that trademark huff, rolls her eyes so hard I think they
might stick, then reluctantly presses her hand to the wood. The door shudders, glowing faintly as the wards recognise her touch.
There’s a soft click, then it swings open. “Finally,” I mutter, striding through before she can second–guess herself.
I brace myself for cobwebs, dust, splinters, and the kind of mildew stink you can’t scrub out with a year’s worth of soap. It’s an attic,
after all. What else could it be? The second the door swings open, my brain short–circuits. The place glows. Literally glows. A lush
black carpet shimmers underfoot, silver threads twinkling like starlight. A stained–glass window spills moonlight across the largest
bed I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously, it’s massive, cloud–fluffed, piled with pillows, enormous black wings for a headboard, dressed
in deep green sheets that look softer than sin. To the left, an entire bathroom gleams through an open door in polished stone and
brass. To the right of that, a kitchen spreads open like something out of a fairytale, cabinets charmed, little golden knobs shaped
like leaves. The air smells faintly of herbs and something sweet like pastries. I do like pastries. In the middle of it all is a cozy living
space with push, large, green armchairs that could probably fit three of Evander in one. They’re facing a wall–mounted enchanted
TV with a whimsical rug patterned with moons and stars, which anchors the room. My jaw actually drops. “This…” I say slowly,
blinking around like an idiot, “This is your room?” She wriggles in my arms, smirking like… well, like me. “Yes.” I set her down on
the couch before I drop her, still turning in a slow circle, taking it all in. “I thought–hell, I thought you were roughing it up here.
Sleeping on the floor with spiders for company.” Her mouth curves, tired but sharp. “Disappointed?”
“Disappointed?” I bark a laugh. “Rivers, this looks better than half the noble estates I’ve been dragged to.” My eyes flick to the
ceiling and stop. “Wait. Is that… the night sky?” Sure enough, where I expect beams and rafters, the roof shimmers away into a
spell. Stars scatter across the black, shifting slowly like they’re real. Are they real? A few faint streaks of rain whisper across the
illusion, dissolving before they touch the ground. “Holy shit,” I mutter. She just shrugs, settling deeper into the cushions. “Yep.” I
shake my head, dragging a hand through my hair, still grinning. “You’ve been holding out on me, trouble. Big time.”
“Okay, ground rules,” She says, folding her arms across her chest, eyes half–lidded with exhaustion but sharp as a blade. “You can’t
tell anyone about this.” I drop into the armchair across from her, still staring around like a tourist. “Why the hell not? This would
be the coolest hangout space on campus.” She buffs, tugging her knees up toward her chest. “Exactly, and I don’t want this to be a
hangout space for people who don’t even like me. It’s my space.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, giving her my best
mock–serious face. “Alright. Two things. One, I do like you, Ally.” Her eyes narrow at the nickname, but she doesn’t bite, so I press on. “And two, I won’t tell a soul if you tell me how in the hell you did all this.” I wave a hand around, pointing at the bathroom
door that still faintly glows with enchantments. “I’ve seen this attic before, years ago. They offered it to me, and I turned it down because it was a drafty death trap. Now look at it.” She shrugs, as casually as she can. “Maybe I stole it all.” A laugh punches out of me before I can stop it. “Stole it?” I tip my head back and bark another one. “Rivers, you might be good at hide–and–seek, hell, you
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Not A Good Thief
stayed off the grid for years, but you are definitely not that good of a thief.” Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile.
“Okay, fine,” I say, leaning back in the chair and lacing my hands behind my head. “Don’t tell me how you pulled this miracle off.
Keep your secrets.” I let the silence hang for a second, my gaze drifting to the carpet. Then I tip my chin down and lower my voice
just enough. “But tell me this. Are the vents still there?” Her head snaps up, eyes wide. For half a heartbeat, she looks like I’ve just caught her red–handed. That’s all the answer I need. My grin breaks like fire catching tinder. “Oh, shit. They are, aren’t they?” Ilean
forward again, elbows on my knees, smirk sharp enough to cut. “Have you been spying on the boys, Rivers?” She scoffs so hard it
could crack plaster. “Please.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder like the very idea is beneath her. “As if I’d waste my time on
that.” I chuckle low in my chest, not buying it for a second. “Right. Sure. You just happened to take the one attic with a bird’s–eye
view of every dorm below and never once thought about peeking.” I tap my temple with one finger, grin widening. “Thing is, I can
smell a lie, and you, Rivers? You smell guilty as hell.” Her glare could kill me if glares had fangs, but the way she shifts in her seat
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tells me everything I need to know. She’s a dirty little pervert. D
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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