San had been told since boyhood that rogues were vermin—parasites feeding off the sweat of honest men. He believed it, too, until the night he found himself chasing one through the narrow alleys of his own kingdom.

The thief was quick, too quick for any of his guards, darting over crates and sliding beneath carts with practiced ease. San, driven by pride more than duty, had taken up the chase himself. His sword weighed comfortably at his hip, though he hadn’t yet drawn it. He wanted to catch this one with his own hands.

Finally, in a shadowed passageway, San managed to corner him—dark eyes meeting his under the flickering torchlight.