Alli must risk everything to save her new family from a rogue organization that is threatening the Thieves Guild’s existence—and the lives of all its members—in this high-stakes sequel to Rules for Thieves . Alli Rosco, former orphan and thief, is free after her disastrous Thieves Guild trial, which left an innocent woman dead while Alli’s partner-in-crime, Beck, fled. Now Alli is getting more than just a fresh start: her long-lost brother, Ronan, has come forward to claim responsibility for her and let her live with him on a trial basis. They try to mend the rift that started when Alli was dropped off at the orphanage while Ronan became a lawyer in Ruhia. But as determined as she is to make things work, Alli can’t seem to stay out of trouble. To make matters worse, Alli finds a surprise guest on her doorstep one night: Beck. He’s on the run and brings news of the Shadow Guild, a rogue organization that is trying to overthrow the current king of the Thieves Guild. Their friends are in real danger. And Beck needs Alli’s help one more time to bring the Shadows down. Once again, Alli is forced to make a hard choice: save her friends, or lose her last chance to have a true family. Alexandra Ott holds a BA in English from the University of Tulsa. She currently lives in Oklahoma with her tiny canine overlord. She is the author of the Rules for Thieves and Seekers of the Wild Realm series. Visit her online at AlexandraOtt.com and on Twitter at @Alexandra_Ott. The Shadow Thieves Chapter One The sunlight glinting off the silver barbed wire makes my eyes water. I always forget how bright it is outside. Prison is nothing but gray. “This way,” the warden says impatiently. She clutches my release papers in her left hand. I blink to clear my eyes and follow her across the courtyard toward the gate. My heart flutters in my chest. This is it. I’ve been waiting one hundred and eighty days, and now I only have to wait for them to open the gate. Freedom is on the other side. It’s taking way too long for the gate to move. Maybe the magician is napping on the job or something. They claim that there’s one up in the tower who’s enchanted the gate and has to lift the spell before anyone can pass. I have no way of knowing if that’s true, but it could be. This place is supposed to be the most secure juvenile facility in all of Ruhia. It turns out that once you’ve broken out of prison the first time they try to lock you up, they don’t take any chances the second time around. Luckily, I’m the only one being released today, but the wait is still agonizing. The warden shows my papers to the guard, and I stare down at the chalky gravel of the courtyard. I’m going to see real grass in a second. Real grass and real trees and . . . my brother. My real, actual brother. Finally, in one long, excruciating motion, the gate swings open. Will he really be there? They told me that he’d agreed to pick me up. Surely he wouldn’t back out now. Unless this has all been some kind of horrible joke. A mistake, like everything else. And even if he is here . . . what will he think of me? The warden strides through the gate and peers down the drive. “Are you Ronan Rosco?” she asks. He’s here. My feet shuffle forward on their own, leading me across the threshold of my new life. I’ve waited one hundred and eighty days for this, but I’m not ready. I stop beside the warden, just on the other side of the gate. The long drive up to the prison is lined with browning grass and stark, barren trees. It was early summer when I went in, but now it’s Vyra’s Month, and winter is already settling in for a long stay. This will be my first Ruhian winter, my first experience with heavy snows and freezing temperatures and weak sunlight. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. A few feet down the gray gravel drive sits a carriage. A cheap rent-by-the-hour one, painted a shockingly bright orange and pulled by a skinny brown horse. The driver looks half-asleep on the front seat, his elbows resting on his knees. And walking up the drive toward us is my brother. Ronan is tall, tall enough that I have to crane my neck to look at him. I remember him being about five years older than me, and I don’t think I was too far off the mark—he looks eighteen or nineteen. Like me, he has shaggy dark hair that resists all efforts to comb it. Unlike me, he seems to have made an effort to tame it anyway, having tied the loose bits back at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a real, actual suit, with a tie and everything. But if he’s trying to make a good impression on the warden, she doesn’t care. She barely glances at him as she riffles through my papers. Having finally arrived at the correct one, she reads a statement in a flat monotone: “As a representative of the glorious state of Ruhia, I now release this ward—Alli Rosco, age twelve, originally of Azeland—to you, Mr. Ronan A. Rosco, hereby establishing you as her legal guardian until she comes of age