Thief With No Shadow by Emily Gee

sleep.
    “Greed. Arrogance. The sal Veres were a proud family.” Liana’s voice held a bitter note.
    Melke looked at the worn nap of the carpet. And now they are humble. “What happened?”
    “The psaaron wanted it back, of course.” There was a sound. Not laughter, something harsher.
    Melke looked up. “Could it not have been returned?”
    “He hid it. Alain hid it. In the limestone caves.” Liana gestured with her hand, east.
    “But surely—”
    “He was young and wild. He refused to tell where he’d hidden it. And before the family could make him, he died.”
    “The curse,” Melke guessed.
    Liana shook her head. “No. He rode an unbroken stallion and broke his neck.” Her mouth tightened. “Arrogant.”
    “Oh.”
    “It was less than he deserved. Much less.” The girl’s expression, the tone of her voice, were almost frightening.
    The candles flared slightly in the draft and for a moment it seemed as if the shadows on Liana’s face sank into her skin. Her shining innocence, her youth and gentleness, her loveliness, were overlain by a mottled stain of hatred. It disfigured her.
    And then the curtains moved again, and the candlelight flickered again, and the shadows on Liana’s face were merely shadows, nothing more.
    “His brothers drowned,” she said. “All three of them. That was the curse.”
    Drowning. It was unsurprising. Psaarons were denizens of water: ocean and lake, river and rain. But all three brothers? Melke shook her head. She didn’t understand. “If the necklace was found, why would the psaaron curse—”
    “It was found by my father. Too late to save them. Too late to save my mother.” Liana tilted her head so that hair hid her face. Melke heard grief in her voice, as clearly as she’d heard the hatred.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “But I don’t understand.”
    The girl looked up. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m not explaining it well.”
    Melke shook her head. “No. Not at all. It’s a difficult story to tell.”
    “Yes. Difficult.” Liana laughed without humor; a grim sound. She looked down at Hantje and her expression softened. She reached out to touch his face. Her other hand held his in a firm clasp. “It was like this. Alain stole the necklace and he hid it and...he died.” Her eyes met Melke’s. “Do you understand?”
    She nodded. “Yes.”
    Liana stroked Hantje’s cheek with a fingertip. “The psaaron wanted the necklace back. It cursed the sal Veres.”
    “Water?”
    Liana nodded. “The curse has grown with time. It no longer rains here. You’ve seen the ground?”
    “I thought it a drought.”
    “An unnatural drought.” Liana’s lips twisted into a bleak smile. “The rivers ceased to flow. The sea...we can’t set foot on the beach, daren’t fish. Boats sink and swimmers drown.”
    “The three brothers?”
    “Yes. Water is deadly to us. To our family.”
    “Your mother,” Melke said softly. “I’m sorry.”
    Liana shook her head. “No. That was the other part of the curse.”
    Something in the girl’s voice, a flatness, told Melke that worse was to come. She sat rigidly in her chair. Did she want to hear this?
    “The psaaron comes, once in every generation. It waits a day and a night for the necklace to be returned. And at night, while it waits—”
    “No.” Melke shook her head. Something clenched in her chest. No. It can’t be.
    Liana held her gaze. Her eyes were fierce, shining with tears. “What have you heard?”
    She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to utter the words. They gagged in her throat. “Psaarons...” She swallowed. “Psaarons are like salamanders, like gryphons and lamia. They like to...to lie with humans.”
    “Yes.” It was a whisper.
    Gryphons were the worst. They raped and killed. But they lived in the central wastes and were rarely seen. Salamanders were more numerous, but they didn’t use force, paying for sexual favors with gold and jewels and other treasures. The giant serpents,