Mark of the Thief Read Online Free PDF

if we were his slaves in Rome, it was better than working in the mines.
    By now, Caela was flying us over a grassy knoll on the west side of the lake. The gray mines already seemed far away, only a memory of another life, another me. It was a good thing I had already decided to return for my sister, because if I hadn’t, nothing else would’ve convinced me to go back.
    Suddenly aware of how hungry I was, I began scanning the valley for any sign of food. As if the gods had granted my wish, almost instantly I spotted a large patch of wild strawberries, ones so fat and red I could see them from up here. How could they feed us nothing but tasteless crusts of bread each day when so much fresh fruit was this close?
    “Put me down, Caela.” I pointed out the strawberries. “Over there.”
    Rather than take my orders, Caela merely tilted her body and literally dropped me off. Luckily, we weren’t too high off the ground, or it might’ve hurt worse, and the second I landed, she speared forward, probably hunting for food of her own. I was glad for that. It meant Caela wouldn’t be eating me. More good news.
    I ran down the hill where she had dropped me and dove into the patch. I ate greedily, stuffing whole handfuls of berries into my mouth and swallowing almost without tasting. Although it wasn’t often, Sal sometimes got strawberries. He ate them right in front of us, and we privately grumbled that he wanted us to see him eating so that we would understand how far beneath him we were. Since I would probably never have this chance again, I ate until my stomach ached with pleasure. Was this how the wealthy felt after every meal, ill with happiness? I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live a day without hunger gnawing at each step.
    If I could have, I would’ve stayed forever in that strawberry patch without a worry in the world. I stretched out on the ground to soak in the sun and to rest from the ordeal in the cave. I tried to feel for Caela’s scratch again, but couldn’t quite reach it. Finally, I gave up trying.
    As my eyes grew heavier, I realized there might be another option than giving Radulf the bulla. I had fought the griffin, not him, and nearly died in the cave because of it. The bulla was literally the only thing in the world that was mine. Maybe I could claim that I’d never found the bulla, that if it ever was in the cave, it was lost to the ages now. With that thought, I tucked the bulla beneath my tunic and twisted it around so it hung under one arm and fell to my side, where it was less noticeable. The bulla lay against my skin with a comfort and familiarity as if it had always been with me. And if I was successful in keeping it hidden, it always would be.
    The foolishness of attempting to hide the bulla was only outmatched by the likelihood of failure. So in the end, if I had to give it back, then I hoped it was cursed, just as Caesar’s whisper had suggested inside the cave. Only then could I tolerate losing it.
    Caela eventually returned to my side, and nestled in the brush beside me where she immediately fell asleep. I curled into her soft feathers, surprised by how calm I felt when she was nearby. Miners are never allowed enough of anything, especially sleep, and with the fragrance of ripe berries, warm sun, and my full stomach, my eyes were quickly lulled closed.
    That was where they found me.

T here were a few moments of disorientation while the guards from the mines yanked me back to reality. I immediately yelled for Caela, but other guards already had her in ropes and were trying to control her thrashing about.
    Privately, I was angry with myself for falling asleep. Hadn’t I learned by now that sleep was dangerous? Those who let down their watch for an instant were the ones we never heard from again. And yet, I had done exactly that.
    I should’ve noticed the creak of the wagon as it approached the berry patch. I should’ve heard voices, or footsteps jumping to the ground. Had I