New York Times bestselling author Maria V. Snyder wowed readers with Poison Study, the unforgettable story of poison taster Yelena. Now she’s back with a new tale of intrigue.

Once, only her own life hung in the balance…

Oddly enough, when Yelena was a poison taster, her life was simpler. But she’d survived to become a vital part of the balance of power between rival countries Ixia and Sitia. Now she uses her magic to keep the peace in both lands—and protect her relationship with Valek.

Suddenly, though, they are beset on all sides by those vying for power through politics and intrigue. Valek’s job and his life are in danger. As Yelena tries to uncover the scope of these plots, she faces a new challenge: her magic is blocked. She must keep that a secret—or her enemies will discover just how vulnerable she really is—while searching for who or what is responsible for neutralizing her powers.

Yes, the days of tasting poisons were much simpler. And certainly not as dangerous…

“Doing full justice to the plot of this original and entertaining epic fantasy is impossible. Suffice it to say that the action is nonstop. The many characters leap to life, particularly Yelena, whose first-person narrative is riveting.” —RT Book Reviews on Fire Study

Now available as ebooks!

Praise for New York Times bestselling author

MARIA V.

SNYDER

‘Maria V. Snyder tantalises readers with another complex, masterful story set in a magical world so convincing that she’ll have you believing that it’s actually real.’

—YAReads.com on Storm Glass

‘A compelling new fantasy series’

—SFX magazine on Sea Glass

‘Wonderfully complex … Opal finally comes into her own in Spy Glass.’ —Fantasy Book Review

‘This is one of those rare books that will keep readers dreaming long after they’ve read it.’

—Publishers Weekly starred review on Poison Study

‘Filled with Snyder’s trademark sarcastic humour, fast-paced action and creepy villainy, Touch of Power is a spellbinding romantic adventure that will leave readers salivating for the next book in the series.’ —USA TODAY on Touch of Power

‘Maria V. Snyder is one of my favourite authors, and she’s done it again!’

—New York Times bestselling author Rachel Caine on Inside Out

Also by New York Times bestselling author Maria V. Snyder

from MIRA INK™

The Chronicles of Ixia

POISON STUDY

MAGIC STUDY

FIRE STUDY

STORM GLASS

SEA GLASS

SPY GLASS

The Insider Series

INSIDE OUT

OUTSIDE IN

from MIRA BOOKS

Avry of Kazan series

TOUCH OF POWER

SCENT OF MAGIC

TASTE OF DARKNESS

www.mirabooks.co.uk/mariavsnyder

www.miraink.co.uk

This book is dedicated to all my loyal readers who asked for more books about Yelena and Valek. This one is for you. Enjoy!

THE TERRITORY OF IXIA

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Booklist

Title Page

Dedication

Map

1 YELENA

2 VALEK

3 YELENA

4 VALEK

5 YELENA

6 VALEK

7 JANCO

8 YELENA

9 VALEK

10 JANCO

11 YELENA

12 VALEK

13 JANCO

14 YELENA

15 VALEK

16 JANCO

17 YELENA

18 VALEK

19 JANCO

20 YELENA

21 VALEK

22 JANCO

23 YELENA

24 VALEK

25 JANCO

26 YELENA

27 VALEK

28 JANCO

29 YELENA

30 VALEK

31 JANCO

32 YELENA

33 VALEK

34 YELENA

Acknowledgments

Endpages

Copyright

1

YELENA

Ugh, mud, Kiki said as she splashed through another puddle. The wet muck clung to her copper coat and dripped from her long tail. It packed into her hooves and coated the hair of her fetlocks with each step.

Through our mental connection I sensed her tired discomfort. Stop? I asked. Rest?

No. Images of fresh hay, a clean stall and being groomed formed in Kiki’s mind. Home, soon.

Surprised, I glanced around the forest. Melting piles of snow mixed with black clumps of dead leaves—signs that the cold season was losing its grip. Rain tapped steadily on the bare branches. The light faded, turning the already gray woods leaden. For the past few hours, I’d been huddling under my sopping-wet cloak, trying to keep warm. With my thoughts fixed on my rendezvous with Valek, I’d failed to keep track of our location.

I scanned the area with my magic, projecting my awareness out to seek life. A few brave rabbits foraged in the soggy underbrush and a couple of deer stood frozen, listening to the squishy plodding of Kiki’s passage. No souls haunted these woods. No humans within miles.

That wasn’t a surprise. This remote area in the northeastern Featherstone lands had been chosen for that very reason. After Owen Moon ambushed us about four years ago, Valek and I had decided to move to a less well-known location near the Ixian border.

I leaned forward in the saddle. We were getting close and my wet cloak no longer pressed so hard on my shoulders. At this pace, we’d reach our cozy cottage within the hour. Valek’s involvement with our friend Opal’s rescue from the Bloodrose Clan and the aftermath had kept him busy for months. Finally we would have a few precious days all to ourselves before he reported back to the Commander. He should already be there waiting for me. Visions of sharing a hot bath, snuggling by a roaring fire and relaxing on the couch once again distracted me.

Kiki snorted in amusement and broke into a gallop. Behind the clouds the sun set, robbing the forest of all color. I trusted Kiki to find the path in the semidarkness as I kept a light magical connection to the wildlife nearby.

In midstride, Kiki jigged to the right. Movement flashed to the left along with the unmistakable twang of a bow. Kiki twisted under me. I grabbed for her mane, but a force slammed into my chest and knocked me from the saddle.

Hitting the ground hard, I felt all the air in my lungs whoosh out as pain erupted. Fire burned with each of my desperate gasps. Without thought, I projected again, searching for the...person who had attacked me. Despite the agony, I pushed as far as I could. No one.

Kiki, smells? I asked. She stood over me, protecting me.

Pine. Wet. Mud.

See magician?

No.

Not good. The person had to be protected by a magical null shield. It was the only way to hide from me. Null shields blocked magic. At least it also prevented the magician from attacking me with his or her magic since it blocked magic from both sides of the shield. But it wouldn’t stop another arrow. And perhaps the next one wouldn’t miss.

I glanced at the shaft. The arrow had struck two inches above and one inch to the left of my heart, lodging just below my clavicle. Fear banished the pain for a moment. I needed to move. Now.

Rolling on my side, I paused as an icy sensation spread across my chest. The tip had been poisoned! I plopped back in the mud. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on expelling the cold liquid. It flowed from the wound, mixing with the blood already soaked into my shirt.

Instead of disappearing, the poison remained as if being refilled as fast as I ejected it. With pain clouding my thoughts, the reason eluded me.

Kiki, however, figured it out. She clamped her teeth on the arrow’s shaft. I had a second to realize what she planned before she yanked the arrow from my chest.

I cried as intense pain exploded, blood gushed and metal scraped bone all at once. Stunned, I lay on the ground as black and white spots swirled in my vision. On the verge of losing consciousness, I focused on the hollow barbed tip of the arrow coated with my blood, reminding me of the danger. I remained a target. And I wasn’t about to make it easy for my attacker to get another shot.

Fix hole, Kiki said.

I debated. If I healed myself now, then I’d be too weak to defend myself. Not like I was in fighting condition. Although I still had access to my magic, it was useless against arrows and, as long as the assassin hid behind the null shield, I couldn’t touch him or her with my magic, either.

Kiki raised her head. Her ears cocked. We go. Find Ghost.

I groaned. How could I forget that Valek was nearby? Smart girl.

With the arrow still clutched in her teeth, Kiki knelt next to me. Grabbing her mane, I pulled myself into the saddle. Pain shot up my arms and vibrated through my rib cage when she stood. She turned her head and I took the arrow. It might give us a clue about the assassin’s identity.

I crouched low over Kiki’s back as she raced home. Keeping alert for another twang, I aimed my awareness on the surrounding wildlife. If the animals sensed an intruder, I’d pick up on their fear. A sound theory, except I’d been in contact with the deer when the arrow struck. I’d be impressed by the assassin’s skills if I wasn’t in so much pain.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our small stable. The main doors had been left open. A warm yellow glow beckoned. Kiki trotted inside. The lanterns had been lit and Onyx, Valek’s horse, nickered a greeting from his stall. Kiki stopped next to a pile of straw bales. Relieved to be safe, I slid onto them then lay down.

Kiki nudged my arm. Lavender Lady fix hole.

After Ghost comes. I suspected I would drop into an exhausted sleep once I healed the injury and I knew Valek would have questions.

She swished her muddy tail and stepped away. Ghost.

Valek appeared next to me. His confusion turned to alarm as his gaze swept my blood-soaked shirt. “What happened?”

No energy for a detailed explanation, I filled him in on the basics and handed him the arrow.

All animation dropped from Valek’s angular face. Fury blazed in his sapphire-blue eyes as he examined the weapon. For a moment, I remembered our first meeting when he offered me the job of the food taster. Poisons had brought us together at that time, as well. But I’d never expected it to last. Then I’d wanted nothing more than to escape from him as quickly as possible.

Clear liquid dripped from the hollow shaft. He sniffed it. “Did you expel all the poison?”

“I think so.” Hard to tell for sure, but I wouldn’t add more fuel to his anger. Valek’s hard expression already promised murder.

He smoothed the hair from my cheek. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as it looks. Now go, before the assassin gets away.” I shooed.

“I’m not leaving you unprotected.”

Kiki huffed and flicked her tail, splattering mud on Valek’s black pants. I yanked my switchblade from its holder, triggering the blade. “I’m far from unprotected. Douse the light before you go.”

“All right. I’ll station Onyx outside the stable. Stay here.” Valek opened Onyx’s stall and the black horse trotted out. After he extinguished the lantern, Valek disappeared into the blackness.

I lay there listening for any sounds. My shoulder and left arm throbbed. Each inhalation caused a sharp stab of pain in my chest. To ease the discomfort, I pulled a thin thread of magic from the blanket of power that encompassed the world. A mental picture of the injury formed when I focused on the wound. My clavicle had been broken. The arrow had sliced through my muscles on impact, and the metal barbs in the arrow’s head had ripped chunks of skin when Kiki had yanked it out. Lovely. I used the ribbon of power to lessen the pain—a temporary measure.

Once more sending my awareness into the surrounding forest, I kept a light contact with the nocturnal creatures. Too bad my bat friend was hibernating over the cold season. His unique senses would have helped with finding the assassin in the dark. The wildlife conducted their nightly hunt of food and showed no signs of agitation—not even from Valek. His immunity to magic prevented me from keeping track of him. I hoped he stayed sharp.

As time passed without incident, I wondered who had attacked me. That line of thought didn’t go far as all I could deduce at this point was the person was a magician who had the power to form a null shield, who favored a bow and arrow, and who might have an affinity with animals. Either that or he/she was really quiet and had masked his/her smell.

Unfortunately, pondering why I was attacked generated a longer list. As the official Liaison between the Commander of the Territory of Ixia and the Sitian Council, I’d created at least a dozen political and criminal enemies in the past six years. As the heart mate of Valek, the infamous Ixian assassin, for the past eight years I’d been a target for anyone who hated Valek, which included most of Sitia and probably hundreds of Ixians. As a magician and Soulfinder, I made many people nervous, worrying that I’d turn rogue. These people were under the mistaken impression that I could create a soulless army when in fact all I did was find lost souls and guide them to either an eternity of peace in the sky or an eternity of suffering in the fire world, depending on their deeds while alive.

A slight squish jolted me from my thoughts. Careful of my injury, I sat up and swung my legs over the bales of straw. Then I slid off. Better to stand and fight than be caught lying down. The darkness outside was one hue lighter than inside due to the faint moonlight. It illuminated just enough to see shapes.

I kept alert for any movement, peering through the door. When Kiki stepped between me and the entrance, I startled. Even though she was sixteen hands high she could be really quiet. Her back was taller than me and she blocked my view. Granted, I reached only five feet four inches, but she was a big girl like most Sandseed horses.

A few more squishes set my heart to beat in double time. I tightened my grip on my switchblade.

Ghost, Kiki said, moving away.

I sagged against the bales. A Valek-shaped shadow strode into the stable. He lit the lantern. One look at his grim expression and I knew he’d lost the assassin’s trail.

“The guy’s a pro,” he said. “He used magic to erase his footprints. They just stopped. And without leaves on the bushes, it’s harder to track him, especially at night. I’ll go out again in the daylight.”

“He? How do you know?”

“Big boots, deep prints. We can discuss it later. Let’s go inside and take care of you.”

“Kiki first.” And before he could argue, “She saved my life. If she hadn’t moved, the arrow would have pierced my heart.”

Valek’s shoulders dropped. Knowing I wouldn’t leave, he worked fast. He removed her saddle and knocked the dried mud off her legs and stomach. After he cleaned out her hooves, she walked into her stall and munched on hay.

“Guess she’s happy enough,” Valek said, tossing the pick into a bucket. “Now, let’s get you warm and dry, love.”

I removed my muddy cloak and left it on the bales before I wrapped my right arm around Valek’s shoulders. He wanted to carry me, but I worried he might jar the broken bone out of alignment and I wouldn’t have enough strength to heal it.

The sharp pain returned by the time we reached the house. I made it as far as the couch. A bright fire burned in the hearth and a bottle of wine sat on the end table with two glasses and a plate of cheese. Valek must have arrived a few hours before me.

Tilting my head at the food, I said, “That’s lovely.”

“We’ll indulge after you’re healed and rested. Do you want to change first?”

Just the thought of moving my left arm hurt. “No.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“A kiss. I haven’t seen you in months.”

Valek transformed when he smiled. The sharp angles of his face softened and warmth radiated from him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. Before I could deepen the kiss he pulled back.

“No more until you’re better.”

“Meanie.”

“Yelena.” His stern tone would have made my mother proud.

“All right.” I reclined on the couch and closed my eyes.

Reaching for the power blanket, I gathered a thick thread of magic. I wound this ribbon around my broken clavicle, fusing the two pieces back together. A second thread knitted the muscles and a third replaced skin. The effort exhausted me. Drained dry, I passed out.

* * *

By the time I woke, afternoon sunlight flooded the living area. Besides the green plaid couch, a couple of oversize nubby brown armchairs and a matching love seat made a semicircle in front of the hearth. In the center, a dark brown deep-pile rug covered the floor—soft on the feet and...other body parts.

All that remained of the fire was ashy coals and half-burned logs. The wine and glasses waited—a promise for later. No sounds emanated from the rest of the cottage, but moving without a sound was second nature for Valek. I called his name just in case. No response.

I opened my mind to Kiki. Is everything okay? I asked.

Quiet. Nap time, she said.

If the horses could sleep, then all should be well. Ghost?

Out. Woods.

My left shoulder and upper chest ached. The muscles would be sore for a few days. I sat up and examined the wound. Purple bruises surrounded an angry red circle. Another scar to add to my collection. I’d stopped counting three...or was it four injuries ago? Stretching with care, I tested my range of motion. Not bad.

The cold had soaked into my bones. My blanket had fallen to the floor. A hot soak in the tub should cure it in no time.

Stiff with blood and poison, my shirt reeked. All the more reason to bathe. But first a quick check of the rest of the cottage. It wouldn’t take long. I palmed my switchblade, but didn’t trigger the blade.

The ground floor consisted of a living area, kitchen and washroom. The living area spanned the left half of the cottage while the kitchen and washroom occupied the right half. The hearth sat in the middle of the building so all the rooms could share its warmth.

I peered into the kitchen. A layer of dust covered the table and chairs, but the wash sink, cold storage box and water jugs had been cleaned. Nothing appeared out of place.

The washroom’s entrance was to the right of the hearth. I smiled. Valek had filled the large water tank near the back wall. Hot coals glowed underneath—one of the benefits of having a stone floor. I tested the water with my finger. Almost perfect.

I climbed the stairs to the single bedroom in the loft. Our cottage was too small for company, another excellent reason to own it.

My red-silk robe and clean clothes had been spread out on the king-size bed. Valek had been busy. I resisted the urge to check under the bed as I undressed. I’d have to ask my cousin Nutty to repair yet another shirt. Despite a few mud stains, I could still wear my black wool pants. I donned the robe—a gift from Valek. Running my fingers over the smooth material, I verified all my surprises remained in place. Valek always included weaponry with my gifts.

Which reminded me. I removed the lock picks, releasing my long black hair.

After a quick peek outside to check for signs of intruders, I returned to the washroom. Steam floated from the water’s surface. I opened the valve and the warm liquid rushed into the sunken tub. Turning off the water, I banked the coals, hung my robe on the hook and settled in, oohing and aahing until only my head remained above water.

Wonderful for about five minutes. Then the door squeaked and I lunged for my switchblade.

“Sorry,” Valek said. He leaned against the door’s frame as if it kept him from falling.

Had he been up all night? “Did you find anything?”

“He’s gone. I found nothing except those boot prints. No doubt he’s a professional assassin with magical abilities.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “That will be the key to finding him. Not many people have that combination of skills. He’s probably already a person of interest. I’ll have to check my sources.”

I resisted correcting him. What he called sources were really Ixian spies in Sitia, which as Liaison, I’d been trying to stop. Ixia and Sitia shouldn’t be spying on each other. Instead, they needed to form a relationship based on mutual trust and respect.

“Unless he’s a new assassin. Some young hotshot.”

Valek straightened. “That’s a possibility. And if that’s the case, then he chose the wrong target if he wishes to grow old.”

“After you find out who hired him.”

“Of course. Any ideas who...?” He shook his head. “We should make a list of who doesn’t want to kill you, love. It’d be shorter.”

I’d be offended, but it was actually a good idea. “Let’s not let it ruin our vacation. Join me.”

He hesitated, frowning.

Oh no. Bad news. “Tell me.”

“I have to leave in the morning.”

“Not because of the attack?”

“No. The Commander ordered me to return earlier than I’d planned. He’s been very patient. I’ve been in Sitia for most of the past year and he says I’m needed for an urgent matter. I’m sorry we have to cut our vacation a few days short.”

Even though disappointment pulsed, I understood his loyalty to the Commander. And the Commander had been more than generous with Valek’s time. Working with Opal and helping to stop the Bloodrose Clan, Valek had done more for Sitia than Ixia.

No sense moping about something I couldn’t change. Suppressing my frustration with the time limit, I splashed Valek. “Come on in while the water’s hot.”

He grinned and peeled off his clothes. Scars crisscrossed his long lean muscles, and a faded C-shaped scar marked the center of his chest. Even after spending seasons in Sitia, his skin remained pale, which contrasted with his shoulder-length black hair.

“Like what you see, love?” Valek stepped into the water.

“You lost weight.”

He huffed. “Janco’s a lousy cook.”

“Did Janco pout when you ditched him to come here?”

“Yes, but it was fake. He’s more than ready to return to Ixia.” Valek settled next to me. “Do you really want to talk about him right now?” His gaze burned hotter than the water.

“Who?”

“Exactly.” He ran his thumb over my wound. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” His touch drove the cold away as a fire ignited in my heart.

He closed the distance between us and our lips met. Another perk of stone floors: no worries about water damage.

* * *

Morning sunlight and chills woke me late the next morning. Memories of last night replayed and I remained in bed savoring them. We’d gone from the tub to the living area, drunk the wine, tested the softness of the rug, and then up to the bedroom. My lips still tingled from Valek’s predawn goodbye kiss.

Another chill raced along my skin. Shivering, I pulled the blanket up to my chin. All my bones ached as if encased in ice. Unease swirled. Something was...off. Wrong.

Without warning, a wave of heat slammed into me. I yanked the blankets off and jumped to my feet. Sweat poured, soaking my nightshirt as dizziness threatened to topple me. I sank to the ground. The heat disappeared as fast as it had arrived, but the cold returned, seeping into my skin, freezing the sweat into a layer of ice.

Before I could pull the blanket over me, another hot flash consumed me. Memories of going through the fire to enter the fire world rose unbidden. The searing pain of my flesh burning all too familiar. I batted at my arms even though I knew my skin hadn’t been set on fire.

Fear wormed through my chest. Maybe I hadn’t expelled all the poison.

Between gasps of breath, the ice extinguished the heat. My muscles tightened and cramped. My teeth chattered hard enough to cause a headache. I curled into a ball, afraid I’d shatter like an icicle hitting the ground.

When the fire blazed again, I straightened as steam rose from my skin. Then the cold reclaimed me. And it kept going back and forth, hot to cold and hot again. Like I had a superfast fever, which gave me no time to draw power to counter it.

I endured the waves. Each flip drained my strength. One of two things was bound to happen. I’d either pass out or the attack would stop. There was a third possibility, but I preferred to stay positive.

After hours...days...weeks...the seizures ceased. At first I braced for the next cycle. But as time progressed without an attack, I slowly relaxed. With no energy to stand, I groped for the edge of the blanket and pulled it down, covering me. At this point, even the hard floor couldn’t stop me from falling asleep.

* * *

Darkness greeted me when I woke. Every single muscle ached as if I’d run here from the Citadel. My dry throat burned and my stomach hurt. I needed water, food and a bath. But first, I needed to ensure that I didn’t have another attack. Had the poison run its course? Or was it still inside me? One way to find out.

I drew a deep breath and reached for the blanket of power. Nothing happened. Trying again, I concentrated on pulling a thread of magic.

Nothing.

Fear pushed up my throat. I swallowed it down, determined not to panic.

I opened my mind to Kiki. What’s going on?

No response. Not even images.

Dead air surrounded me.

My magic was gone.

2

VALEK

He hated leaving her. Memories of last night’s activities swirled in his mind, but he suppressed them. No sense torturing himself. Instead, he focused on the attack on Yelena as he saddled Onyx.

Valek had done another sweep of the area as soon as the sun had risen. No one in sight and no signs of anyone. Not much of a comfort, considering the bastard had been able to conceal himself so well. His identity remained a mystery for now. But Valek would find him. No doubt.

Mounting Onyx, Valek grabbed the reins. Kiki said goodbye with a sad little whinny.

“Please keep her safe,” he said to Kiki.

She nodded. Her blue eyes shone with intelligence.

“Thanks.” Valek clicked his tongue, spurring Onyx into a gallop. Kiki was the only reason he didn’t insist on personally escorting Yelena to the Citadel. Yesterday, he’d taken Kiki to the spot where the assassin had waited. She’d sniffed the area and had the man’s scent. Combined with Yelena’s magic and her skills with her switchblade and bo staff, they made an impressive fighting team. Plus Yelena had assured him she’d recovered from the injury.

Of course, there was the possibility that since the assassin knew how to construct a null shield, he might also know Valek’s biggest weakness, which would render him unable to protect Yelena. Valek could never forget that disadvantage. It was like a knife slowly piercing his heart in tiny increments. Each day it dug a little deeper.

Once his greatest weapon against magic, his immunity was now a drawback. If a magician surrounded Valek with a null shield, Valek would be trapped inside just like being caught in a bubble made of invisible steel. Weapons could cross the barrier, but he couldn’t. Well, neither he nor Opal, who was also immune to magic. Her adventures last year had uncovered this particularly nasty weakness and, while the magical community promised to keep it quiet, Valek had learned the best way to distribute information was to classify it as secret.

Valek guided Onyx north toward the Ixian border. At this pace, they’d reach the checkpoint in three hours. Their cottage had been in an ideal location. Too bad they would have to move again. He contemplated retirement—not for the first nor the last time. And for a moment, he dreamed of a time when he and Yelena could disappear and never have to worry about assassins, intrigue and espionage again.

Except she couldn’t retire from guiding lost souls. Perhaps she could wear a disguise. He imagined them dressed as an old married couple traveling from town to town. For half the year, they’d visit the local sights, try new foods and find souls. The other half would be spent together in a cottage, gardening, carving and going out for daily rides. It was a pleasant daydream.

A mile from the border, Valek stopped Onyx. He changed into his Ixian uniform—black pants, boots and shirt. Two red diamonds had been stitched onto his collar, marking him as an adviser to the Commander. He turned his cloak inside out, revealing the black material with two red diamonds instead of the gray camouflage. In Ixia, he had to wear his uniform with the Commander’s colors of black and red. While in Sitia, he had to blend in.

Back on Onyx, he headed to the main checkpoint, hoping the soldiers would recognize him. It’d save time. Valek considered sneaking into Ixia, but the Commander’s message said the situation was urgent.

The official border crossing between Sitia and Ixia was a cleared, one-hundred-foot ribbon of ground that stretched from the Sunset Ocean in the west to the Soul Mountains in the east. The border followed the contours of the Snake Forest, which also spanned the area between the ocean and mountains. At one point, Valek had asked the Commander to clear the entire forest. Even with the hundred feet of open ground, smugglers and refugees still managed to slip across the border. But now he found the forest convenient for his network of spies. Not that he’d admit that to Yelena.

The six border guards snapped to attention when he approached. A good sign.

“Welcome back, sir.” The captain saluted.

Nice. “Thank you. Any news, Captain?”

“It’s been quiet, sir. A caravan crossed earlier this morning, but they were on our approved list. A Sitian delegation is due to come through here in a couple days, but we haven’t gotten the manifest for the visitors yet.”

Interesting how the man mentioned the delegation as if routine. It was only eight years ago that the border had been sealed tight. No one in or out.

“Do you know why the Sitians are visiting?” Valek asked, wondering if the delegation was the reason the Commander had ordered him back a few days early.

“No, sir.”

Ah. He’d have to wait. “Anything else?”

The captain smiled. “Adviser Janco informed us that a Sitian spy would attempt to cross this checkpoint today. He claimed this spy would be disguised as you and ordered us to attack first and ask questions later.”

Valek suppressed his ire—he needed to have a little chat with Janco. “And why didn’t you follow Adviser Janco’s orders?”

“I was in basic training with the...er...Adviser, sir.”

“My condolences, Captain.”

The captain’s soldiers all grinned at his deep laugh. “His pranks were endless, but he taught me more than our instructor.”

Interesting and not that surprising. “You showed excellent judgment today. While being attacked by six skilled opponents would have been good practice for me, I preferred the friendly welcome.”

They parted, letting Onyx through.

“Sir?” the captain called.

Valek turned.

“Papers, please.”

Ah. Now the soldiers surrounded the horse. Smart move. Valek pulled a folded sheet from one of his cloak’s inner pockets and handed it to the captain. “The Commander’s orders.”

Valek waited as the man scanned the fake document.

The pleasant expression dropped from the captain’s face. His right hand slid to grasp his sword’s hilt. Following his cue, his men tensed and grabbed the hilts of their weapons.

“This is a forgery,” the captain said.

Valek noted he didn’t say sir. “Just testing you, Captain.”

“Dismount now.”

Valek tsked. “What happened to your manners, Captain?”

The captain drew his sword in answer.

Good. The man followed proper protocol. If Valek didn’t dismount soon, they’d rush him, yank him from the saddle and unarm him. How far should he push it? Not far. The Commander was waiting for him, after all.

Pulling the real orders from his sleeve, Valek held up his hands. The captain gestured to one of the guards who approached slowly, then snatched the parchment from Valek with one quick motion. The guard delivered it to the captain. So far, so good.

Peering at the letter, the captain relaxed. “This one is real. It was a test.”

“And you passed. What is your name, Captain?”

“Broghan, sir.”

“I’ll make sure to mention this to your commanding officer, Captain Broghan.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Pleased with the border guard’s actions, Valek urged Onyx north. They would reach the Commander’s castle by late afternoon. Dirty, hard-packed snow covered the well-used trail. The surrounding forest showed no signs of green—all bare branches and bleak even with the sunlight streaming to the ground. Buds already coated the Sitian trees, and the southern half of the Avibian Plains would be lush with plant life and warm breezes by now.

Not that he missed the south—not at all. Just one specific southerner. Valek scanned the surrounding area seeking signs of an ambush. Memories swirled of the times he’d used the cover of the forest to hide his actions. Valek glanced up. Yelena had also exploited the Snake Forest’s tree canopy to escape the Commander’s men during a training exercise. It had been the day he learned she was far smarter than he’d thought. And more dangerous, too.

If only the Commander allowed magicians to live in Ixia, then she’d be working with him instead of being the Liaison. Valek had argued about the benefits of having a magician on staff with the Commander for years, but he remained stubborn. Perhaps Ambrose had changed his mind about magic after Kade’s demonstration. Valek had heard the Stormdancer had traveled north during this past cold season to harvest the energy from one of the blizzards that blew down from the northern ice pack. Kade’s magic had transformed the killer storm into a regular old snowstorm. The Commander let Kade stay for the rest of the season, but Valek hadn’t heard if Kade and his group of Stormdancers would be invited back next year. One thing was for sure: Valek and Commander Ambrose had a lot to catch up on.

When he arrived at the castle complex, Valek stopped at the southern gate. An immense stone wall completely surrounded the castle, barracks, stable and other support buildings.

Once again, he presented his fake orders and was pleased that these guards also followed the proper protocol.

After they allowed him entrance, Onyx automatically headed to the stables near the west gate and next to the dog kennels. Halfway there, they were stopped by a messenger.

“Adviser Valek, the Commander would like to see you in his war room right now. I’ll take your horse to the stable and see that your bags are delivered to your rooms, sir.”

He’d hoped to wash the travel grime off, but one didn’t tell the Commander to wait. Dismounting, he handed the reins to the boy and followed the path to the western entrance.

The only thing impressive about the castle was its sheer size. With four tall towers anchoring the corners of the rectangular base, the palace spanned a half a mile in width. Other than that, the odd layers of squares, triangles, cylinders and whatnot perched atop the base looked ridiculous. Even after all these years, Valek still didn’t know why the King had agreed to build a structure that resembled an uncreative child’s tower of blocks.

Perhaps the first King of Ixia had thought the asymmetrical design would hinder assassins. It would only confuse the stupid ones. Valek had infiltrated the castle without trouble by posing as a hairdresser for Queen Jewel.

Picking up his pace, Valek cut through the servant corridors to save time. He arrived at the Commander’s war room just as the kitchen servers left. They held empty trays. Ah, supper. His stomach growled in anticipation.

Located in the northwest tower, the circular war room was ringed by slender floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows that spanned three-quarters of the wall. When the afternoon sunlight shone, a rainbow of colors streaked the large wooden table that occupied the center.

Lanterns had been lit, sending sparks of colors in different directions from the windows. Ari and Janco shoveled food onto their plates and the Commander sat at the head of the table, waiting as his food taster slurped and sipped his supper. A small stack of files had been piled next to the Commander’s plate.

The food taster, a skittish young man, shot Valek a nasty glare as he slipped past. Valek actually missed the old taster, Star, but she’d been too difficult to work with and keeping track of all her schemes had grown tiresome. So he’d slipped a dose of My Love into the Commander’s drink to test her poison tasting skills. Star’d failed the test and paid for that error with her life.

The Commander crinkled his nose at his messy plate, but didn’t comment as he speared a piece of beef.

“Well, look who decided to show up—the Ghost Warrior,” Janco said. “Have any trouble at the border?” He smirked.

Valek stared at Janco with the promise of retribution.

Unaffected, Janco elbowed his partner, Ari. “See? I told you he’d get through.”

While Janco was all lean wiry muscles, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered Ari was solid muscle. About a foot taller and wider than Janco, Ari also had more common sense.

“He told me about it later, Valek,” Ari said. “Nothing I could do at that point.” His long-suffering tone said more than his words.

“Your prank failed to work.” Valek ladled stew into a deep bowl.

“Oh?” Janco didn’t sound convinced.

“Captain Broghan recognized you from your basic-training days.”

Janco stabbed his fork into the air. “I knew he looked familiar, didn’t I, Ari?”

“You said he resembled your second cousin.”

“Close enough. So Broghan made captain.” Janco tapped the fork against his teeth.

“Is he worth looking into for my corps?” Valek sat on the opposite side of the table from the power twins—Ari and Janco’s nickname.

“He’s smart and a fast learner, but he has no finesse.”

“Not everyone can be a drama queen like you, Janco,” Ari said.

“I’m insulted.” Janco pouted, proving Ari’s point.

“Go on,” Valek ordered. “No finesse?”

“Yeah, no spark...imagination. He’ll follow orders and protocol, but if a situation goes well beyond the protocols, he’ll be stymied.”

“Stymied? Who uses that word?” Ari teased.

“Those who know what it means. Please excuse Ari. His vocabulary is limited to fifty words—most of them curse words.”

Ari drew breath to counter, but the Commander leaned forward and stopped the banter with a hard gaze from his gold, almond-shaped eyes. Time for business.

The Commander’s uniform matched Valek’s except he had two real diamonds stitched onto his collar and his was wrinkle-free. His steel-gray hair had been cut close to his scalp.

“I have two matters I wish to discuss,” the Commander said. “The first is regarding smugglers. The reports of illegal goods being stopped at the border have slowed to a trickle. However, black-market goods are still in ample supply.”

Valek considered. “That means they’ve found a new way into and out of Ixia.”

“Correct.” The Commander pushed his plate away.

“Are we still allowing some smugglers to slip by?” Valek asked. Following the caravans of illegal goods to the source was a sound strategy.

“No. The few who are attempting to cross illegally are so inept, they’re being caught right away.”

“Decoys,” Ari said. “To make us think they’re still trying to sneak through the Snake Forest.”

“Which means they’re organized,” Janco added.

“Organized how?” the Commander asked.

Janco scratched the empty place where the lower half of his right ear used to be. “If it was just one or two smugglers using the new route, then the others would continue as they have been. But with the decoys, it means all the smugglers have gotten together and figured out a way around the border guards.”

“A smuggler convention?” Ari asked with a touch of humor. “Thieves don’t usually play well together.”

“Maybe a big bad arrived with a new way of doing things.”

“A ringleader?” Ari asked.

“Exactly. Some scary dude who has taken over. He’s probably all ‘do it my way or...’”

“It’s a possibility,” Valek said while Janco cast about for a proper smuggler threat.

“Regardless. I want the three of you to figure out the new route and the new players. The sooner the better,” the Commander ordered.

“What about Maren?” Ari asked. “Will she be helping us?”

Maren had teamed up with Ari and Janco, and the three of them had beaten Valek in a fight, earning the right to be his seconds-in-command.

“She’s on special assignment,” the Commander said. “You can recruit if you need more assistance.”

Unease nibbled on his stomach. Valek knew nothing about Maren’s assignment and, from the Commander’s closed expression, he wouldn’t be learning more about it from his boss.

“Tunnels,” Janco said. “They could have dug tunnels underneath the border.”

“They’d have to be miles long. Otherwise, they’d pop up in the Snake Forest and someone would have seen them,” Ari said. “Who has the ability to build a tunnel like that?”

“Miners,” the Commander said in a quiet voice.

No surprise the Commander mentioned them. His family had owned a mine in the Soul Mountains bordering what was now Military District 3 until they’d discovered diamonds. The King of Ixia had claimed ownership of the gemstones and “allowed” the Commander’s family to stay and work for him. The King’s greedy move had started the rumblings of discontent and turned a brilliant young man into the King’s number one enemy.

“We’ll look into the possibility of a tunnel,” Valek said.

“Boats on the Sunset Ocean.” Janco held up his napkin. He had folded it so it resembled a sailboat.

“Not practical,” Ari said. “Between the storms and the Rattles, we haven’t had any problems with people using the ocean as an escape route.”

The Rattles extended from the coast of MD-7 out to at least a hundred miles into the Sunset Ocean. With submerged rocks, strong and unpredictable currents, and shallow areas that moved, the Rattles were impossible to navigate. Sailing around them took too long plus sailors ran the risk of hitting dead air and being stranded for months.

Valek tapped a finger on the table. “When did the decoys start?”

The Commander flipped through a few papers in the file on top of his stack. “End of the cooling season about sixty days ago.”

Valek calculated. “Prime storm season. It’s suicide to be on the ocean at that time of year.”

“I will leave the detecting to you. As for this other matter...” The Commander pulled a letter from underneath the folders. He scanned it then turned his gaze to Valek. “An unfortunate development, but one that we will not get involved in. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Valek kept his expression neutral, bracing for the bad news.

Ari and Janco exchanged a concerned glance.

“Do you remember Ben Moon?”

He couldn’t forget the man who had tried to murder Yelena in revenge for the execution of his brother, Owen Moon. Only the fact Ben remained locked tight in a special wing of Wirral Prison for the past three years kept the man alive. So why was the Commander... A sick feeling circled his chest. “He escaped?”

“Yes.”

3

YELENA

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Clutching the blanket in tight fists, I repeated the words. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Except it failed to work. Panic burned up my throat. I gasped for breath. The words transformed to no magic. No magic. No magic.

The darkness pressed against my skin, sealing me inside my body, blocking me from the warmth and light that was my magic. All my senses had been stolen along with my magic. Sounds, sights and scents gone. A bitter taste all that remained.

No magic. Cut off from the lost souls, disconnected from the wildlife and severed from my colleagues, I’d been rendered useless. No magic.

I stayed on the hard floor of our bedroom huddled under the blanket. My thoughts buzzed with misery. When the sun rose, a bit of relief eased the chaotic terror that had consumed me. My vision worked after all.

A loud bang on the door broke the early-morning quiet and Kiki’s piercing whinny cut right through my conviction that all had been lost. Hooves pounded on wood and I staggered to my feet.

I’m okay, I said. No response. My heart twisted.

“I’m okay,” I shouted over another barrage.

Kiki stopped. But for how long? I grasped the handrail and eased down the steps. Sharp hunger pains stabbed my guts, but I aimed for the door. Kiki’s mostly white face peered through the window. A patch of brown circled her left eye.

As soon as I opened the door, she barged in, almost knocking me over. Not hard to do since I hadn’t eaten in over a day.

I wrapped my arms around her neck. “I’m fine.” Leaning my forehead against her soft hide, I opened my mind to her. Nothing. I breathed in her scent—a mix of dry straw, cut grass and earth.

“I can’t... I don’t have...” Why was it so hard to say? “My magic...is gone. I can’t talk to you.”

Kiki snorted.

“Yes, I know I’m talking to you, but we can’t communicate.”

She pulled away and gazed at me. And while her thoughts didn’t sound in my mind, I understood her sarcastic, what-do-you-call-this look. Then she nudged me with her nose as if prompting me to explain.

Her actions snapped me from my scatterbrained panic. Logic wrestled raw emotion aside and I considered. What happened before my magic disappeared? A lovely evening with Valek, but we’d had a number of them throughout the years without consequences.

And before that? I touched the still-tender area on my upper chest. “The poison! How could I be so stupid?”

Kiki nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” I said drily. “Now I just have to figure out what poison blocks a person’s magic.” Curare fit, except I’d have been paralyzed and I would have recognized its crisp citrus scent. “The arrow.” Perhaps a few drops of the poison remained.

Kiki followed me to the stable. Poor girl hadn’t been fed grain in over a day. I filled her feed bucket before searching for the arrow’s shaft. It didn’t take long to figure out Valek must have taken it with him.

Valek. Should I join him in Ixia? It’d be safer. And without the taint of magic, the Commander would welcome me with open arms. Ambrose’s aversion to magicians started back in his childhood. Even though he had a female body, he insisted he was male. He dressed as a boy and changed his name. Terrified that a magician would “see through” him, he banned them from Ixia and executed any found within the Territory when he gained power. Plus it didn’t help that the corrupt King was also a magician who had abused his power.

When I accepted my Soulfinding abilities, I discovered the true nature of the Commander’s dual personality. His mother died in childbirth, but she’d refused to leave her newborn son. She had just enough magic that her soul remained with Ambrose, turning him female. I’d offered to guide her to the sky, but the Commander felt her presence aided, not hindered, him. For now.

The Commander’s stance on magicians in Ixia had loosened a bit since he learned of his own magical beginnings, but he still had a long way to go.

Besides, traveling to Ixia wouldn’t help me discover what happened. My condition could be temporary and if so I was freaking out for nothing.

Searching my memories, I reviewed the list of poisons Valek had taught me when I’d been the Commander’s food taster over eight years ago. None of them had side effects that matched my symptoms. Then again, Valek wouldn’t have been worried about a substance that blocks magic. But would he know if one existed? Possible.

How about the Master Magicians? I groaned. First Magician Bain Bloodgood! His knowledge of history and magic was unparalleled, and if he didn’t know about this poison, he’d hunt through his stacks and stacks of books until he found it.

Feeling much better, I returned to the cottage to eat and pack. I checked the hearth and coals in the washroom, ensuring all had been properly extinguished. When I closed and locked the door, a pang of regret vibrated in my chest. Because of the attack, Valek would insist on moving. I rubbed my fingers on the stones. Fond memories swirled. The distance to the stable seemed to stretch, growing longer with each step.

Once I reached the stable, I saddled Kiki. We didn’t use reins or a bridle and normally, I’d forgo the saddle, but the saddlebags were stuffed with enough food and supplies to last a week. I paused. Had Valek and I ever had a full week to ourselves? No.

Kiki grunted, jarring me from my thoughts.

“What’s wrong?”

She jerked the girth’s latigo strap from my hand. I’d pulled it too tight. It took me a moment to understand. It was easy to saddle a horse that instructed you on how tight to make the saddle. I wondered how many other things I would need to relearn—a dreary prospect.

I fixed the girth and mounted. “Back to the Citadel as fast as possible, please.” That remained the same. I’d always let her find the best way and set the pace.

She galloped through the mud. The bright sunshine of midmorning failed to lift my spirits. I scanned the forest, seeking predators. A bird screeched and I ducked. I drew my switchblade when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. And I flattened, hugging Kiki’s neck when a thud sounded behind us.

After a few hours, Kiki stopped for a rest. I stayed by her side, keeping my back against her and my switchblade in hand. Invisible dangers lurked in the forest. A whole army of ambushers could be waiting for us downwind and I’d have no warning.

Panic simmered. I was weak, vulnerable and an easy target. When Kiki stopped for the night, I didn’t light a fire, and the few uneasy hours I slept were spent between her hooves.

By the time we reached the northern gates of the Citadel two days later, I started at every noise. Never had I been so glad to see the white marble walls that surrounded the Citadel reflecting the sunlight. The guards waved us in and I worried. What if the guards conspired with a group inside? What if we were mugged?

I twisted my fingers in Kiki’s copper mane as we crossed through the rings of businesses and factories that occupied the center of the Citadel like red circles around a bull’s-eye. A bustling market lay at the heart of this section. Skirting the crowded stalls, Kiki headed toward the Magician’s Keep, located in the northeast quadrant.

People hustled through the streets, talking, laughing, arguing as they attended to their morning chores. I stared at them. No thoughts or emotions reached me from the crowds. To my senses they had no souls. A horde of walking dead.

I leaned forward and whispered to Kiki, “Faster to the Keep, please.”

She increased her pace, weaving through the busy streets. The logical part of me understood that the shouts and curses following our passage did not come from soulless dead people. However, that knowledge didn’t stop my trembling hands or rapid pulse.

Shocked, I realized my magic had influenced how I viewed the world. I barely remembered how I had interacted with my world without magic. I wouldn’t have thought I relied on my power so much or used it to connect to the people around me in the past six years. Yet, I felt as if I’d been wrapped in a thick black cloth from head to toe. The cloth had holes for my eyes, ears, nose and mouth, but the rest of me remained swaddled.

I eased my tight grip on Kiki’s mane when the Magician’s Keep’s grand entrance loomed. Elegant pink marble columns supported scalloped arches that framed the two-story-high marble doors. The doors were always open, but they were guarded by four soldiers, a magician and a wooden gate.

They straightened as we approached.

“Good morning, Liaison Zaltana. Back so soon?” asked the sergeant in charge.

“Yes, Mally, an urgent matter has cut my vacation short. Is Master Bloodgood in his office?”

She turned to the magician...Jon from the Krystal Clan.

Jon peered at me, questioning. “Can’t you—”

“Not right now,” I said between clenched teeth.

“Oh...kay.” His gaze grew distant. “Yes, First Magician is in his office.” Then he met my gaze. “He’s with a student right now and says to come by in the early afternoon.”

I had no intention of waiting and no desire to tell Jon. Instead, I thanked him. Mally moved aside, but didn’t raise the gate. Kiki jumped the heavy wooden barrier in one easy stride, showing off just like she always did.

The Keep’s administration building sat directly across from the entrance. A few blocks of peach marble marked the yellow structure and a set of grand marble stairs led up to the first-floor lobby.

Kiki stopped at the base of the steps.

I dismounted and patted her sweaty neck. “I’ll catch up with you at the stables and give you a proper grooming.”

She butted my palm with her soft nose, then trotted toward the stables located in the northwest corner of the Keep right next to Irys’s tower. The Magician’s Keep had four towers stationed in each corner. They rose high into the air. Each Master Magician lived in a tower. Right now, only two were occupied. Second Magician Zitora Cowan had resigned her position to hunt for her missing sister and no other magician had the power to be a master. So far. There was always hope that one of the new students at the Keep would mature into master-level powers.

I raced up the steps and into the administration building. And just like its name implied, the structure housed the administrative staff who handled the day-to-day accounts and bills and the details involved in running a school for future magicians. The Masters all had offices inside and the infirmary was located on the ground floor.

Ignoring the staff in the hallways, I headed straight toward Bain’s office. I opened the door without knocking. Not surprised to see me—no one could sneak up on a Master Magician—Bain frowned at my rude intrusion. But one look at my expression and he ushered his student from the room.

Once the girl left he turned to me. He tapped his temple with a wrinkled finger. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I can’t. It’s gone. My magic is all gone!” Panic spun in my chest. Tears threatened.

His face creased with concern. He stepped closer and spread his hands. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Bain grasped my shoulders and closed his eyes. I braced for... What? I’d no idea. However, nothing happened.

His eyes popped open in surprise. “You are correct.”

Bain’s confirmation hit me like an avalanche of rocks tumbling down a mountain. Unable to keep it together any longer, my body trembled as tears gushed with each sob. First Magician guided me to an armchair, pressed a handkerchief into my hands and muttered soothing words until my bout of self-pity ran its course.

Ringing for tea, he sat in the armchair next to mine and waited for his assistant to arrive. Deep in thought, he smoothed his white hair. Or rather, he tried. The curls resisted and sprang back into their positions, sticking up at odd angles.

I wiped my eyes with his handkerchief and scanned his messy office. Contraptions in various stages of completion or dissection littered the floor, shelves bowed with piles of books, rolls of parchment covered his desk and numerous shades of ink stained...just about everything, including Bain’s deep blue robe. The scent of jasmine mixed with a tangy aroma filled the room. I wondered if the large arrays of candles scattered throughout were the source of the smell.

When Bain’s assistant arrived, he brought tea and Second Magician Irys Jewelrose, my mentor and friend. Bain must have mentally communicated to her about my arrival. I stood, but she kept her distance as the man poured three cups of tea and set the steaming pot down amid the clutter on the table.

“Do you require anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you.”

He left and Irys rushed over to embrace me. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

Tears welled, but I calmed as I breathed in her comforting apple-berry scent; more crying wouldn’t solve anything. I squeezed her back and moved away. Her emerald-green eyes held concern and a promise.

Bain gestured for us to sit. Two more armchairs faced the ones Bain and I occupied. Irys handed out the cups before settling in. I clasped mine in both hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.

Bain gazed at me over the rim of his cup. “Tell us.”

Starting with the attack, I told them everything that had happened. They sat in silence, absorbing the information. Then the questions started. I answered them as best as I could.

“Do you know of a poison that robs a magician of her power?” I asked them.

“No,” Irys said.

After a few moments, Bain said, “I do not know of a substance that has that ability. If it exists, it would be a formidable weapon against magicians.”

“What do you mean if? Do you think I’m making this up?” I put my cup down. It clattered on the saucer.

“No, child. I’m merely considering other possibilities besides poison. Perhaps there is another reason for your condition.”

“Oh. Like a null shield?”

“Correct. Except it is not a shield.”

“How do you know?”

“I can sense your surface thoughts and my magic helped soothe you. Which also means you are not immune to magic.”

I sucked in a breath. Bad enough to be without magic, but to be at its mercy... This was just getting worse and worse.

“Perhaps your magic was siphoned,” Irys suggested. “Opal no longer has the ability, but there’s a chance another magician has learned the skill. There was a gap in time between the arrow strike and your bout of...fever—for lack of a better word.”

If that was the cause, my magic was gone forever. Unless there was a vial of my blood around, which I doubted. So far, no one could duplicate Opal’s glass magic, but Quinn Bloodrose’s magic was also linked to glass.

“What about Quinn?” I asked.

Irys considered. “He’s attending classes here. I don’t think he’s left the Keep. However, we can talk to him. And I can contact Pazia Cloud Mist to see if she has any ideas. Her magic was accidentally siphoned and since then she’s been working with glass, making those super messengers.”

A queasy unease roiled. “I don’t want word to spread about me. I’ve too many enemies.”

“I’ll be discreet and won’t mention you,” Irys said. “I’ll check the logbook at the gate. If Quinn left the Keep, there will be a record of it.”

The vise around my chest eased a little.

“And I will scour all my books for information,” Bain promised. “I am sure Dax will be happy to translate the languages I am unfamiliar with.”

I smiled at Bain’s word choice. My friend Dax would be happy to complain and whine nonstop about the task, but he was trustworthy.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“I suggest you visit Healer Hayes,” Irys said. “There’s a chance you’re sick or he might have some information about what is causing your...condition.”

All good ideas. I leaned back, sinking into the cushions as exhaustion swept through me.

“Does Valek know?” Irys asked.

“No. He left before my symptoms started. I don’t want to alarm him. I’ll message him when I know more.”

“We must search for the assassin, as well,” Bain said. “I’ll contact the security chief. He—”

“No,” I interrupted.

“Then who do you suggest?”

I considered. No doubt Valek’s spies would be hunting for my attacker, but they didn’t have magic or intimate knowledge of Sitia’s back alleys. Two people came to mind—one had magic while the other had the knowledge.

“Leif and Fisk. I trust them both.”

“Would they be willing to work together?” Bain asked.

“They have before. Remember the gang of scam artists that plagued the Citadel a few years ago?”

“Ah, yes. A nice bit of detecting.” Bain tapped his fingers on the edge of his teacup. “However, this assassin may not be from the Citadel or have ties here.”

“Fisk has been branching out to other cities.” I smiled, remembering the dirty street rat who had begged me for money. I’d emptied my pouch into his small hands, but when he approached me a second time, I’d hired him to help me navigate the overwhelming market.

Eventually he founded the Helper’s Guild and recruited other beggar children to help shoppers find good prices, quality merchandise and to deliver packages, all for a small price. His network of guild members also had the unique ability to gather information on the criminal element.

“I didn’t know he’s expanding,” Irys said. “That little scamp. I shouldn’t be surprised.” She sipped her tea. “Well, he’s not so little anymore. It’s a good idea to ask them.”

If they had time. “Is Leif out on assignment?”

“Not right now,” Bain said with a significant look.

Meaning the Sitian Council might have a job for my brother soon, which led to another question. “Should I inform the Council of my condition?”

Bain ran a gnarled hand down his sleeve. Since becoming the First Magician, he’d aged more than just the natural passage of time. His duties included overseeing the Keep and being a member of the Sitian Council—same as Irys. She, too, had aged. Gray streaked her black hair and a few more wrinkles etched her face.

“Not about your lost magic,” Irys said. “Not until we know more. However, we should tell them about the attack. They might have intel from their clans.”

Each of Sitia’s eleven clans had one representative on the Council, and, along with the two Masters, the Council governed Sitia.

Bain straightened in his chair. “I believe we have a plan of attack. I will liaise with the Council and do extensive research. Irys will check the gate logs and talk to Quinn and Pazia. Yelena will visit Healer Hayes and talk to Fisk and her brother, Leif. Did I miss anything?”

“No.” For the first time since the morning I’d woken without my magic, my chest didn’t hurt. Too bad it didn’t last.

“Yes,” Irys said. She leaned forward. “Yelena, you need to keep a very low profile. If you interact with the Keep’s students, they’ll figure it out eventually and then it will be impossible to keep your condition a secret. Plus you’re vulnerable. Whoever did this to you knows magic can influence you. What if they use you to get close to one of the Councilors or the Commander and Valek? Or turn you into an assassin? I’d suggest you ask Leif to weave a null shield into your cloak and, once you’ve talked to Fisk, you need to go into hiding. That’s the safest thing you can do right now.”

Run and hide? That was so not my style.

4

VALEK

Ben Moon escaped with help? Who could have broken him out of Wirral Prison? Most likely a group of rogue magicians. They’d have to be intelligent, resourceful and powerful in order to get through Wirral’s supertight security. Valek dug his fingernails into the chair’s armrests, but kept his expression neutral as the Commander relayed the information. His first impulse—to race to the Citadel to warn and protect Yelena—throbbed against his hollow chest.

“As I said, we will not be getting involved in what is strictly a Sitian affair,” the Commander said, not fooled by Valek’s calm demeanor.

“How long ago did this happen?” Valek asked.

The Commander stilled. “It is not our concern.”

Valek chose his next words with the utmost care. “Not directly, but Liaison Zaltana was ambushed and shot with an arrow two days ago.”

“What...? How...? Why didn’t you tell us?” Janco sputtered in outrage.

Concern hardened Ari’s face.

“She’s fine,” Valek assured them. “Kiki sidestepped and the arrow missed her heart.” He explained what had happened.

“And you think this attack is related to Ben Moon’s escape?” the Commander asked.

“It would depend on the timing, sir.”

“I see.” Commander Ambrose scanned the parchment.

Valek suppressed the desire to snatch it from the man’s hand.

“The incident happened ten days ago. Not enough time for Ben to set up the attack on Yelena.”

“Unless his buddies planned it and all Ben had to do was show up and hide behind the null shield and wait for her,” Janco said.

Good point, except the Commander failed to appear impressed.

“Regardless, we will let the Sitian Council handle the investigation. After all, she was ambushed in Sitia.” The Commander gathered his files.

“May I send a message to Yelena, warning her about Ben?” Valek asked.

“She probably already knows, but if you feel it’s necessary, then go ahead.” He stood. “I expect daily reports on your progress regarding the smuggling routes.” The Commander paused. “Valek, stop by my rooms later tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded and left the war room.

Valek stared at the door, wondering why the Commander made a point to order him to visit his rooms. It had been their routine since the takeover to touch base before bed. Valek and the Commander had spent many late nights together discussing strategy and talking through problems, seeking solutions.

Perhaps the Commander thought Valek would skip tonight due to all the work that no doubt piled up while he’d been in Sitia. The stack of reports wasn’t nearly as concerning as Commander Ambrose’s indifference over Ben’s rescue, which was the opposite of Valek’s reaction. Usually they were in sync and the Commander shared all his information. But he hadn’t let Valek see that letter, which made him suspect the Commander had lied or hidden something. Why?

If Yelena had been assassinated, the relationship between Ixia and Sitia would be affected. Probably not enough to cause a war, but it would further strain an already uneasy truce. While Valek agreed the new smuggling routes needed to be discovered, the impact of black-market goods on Ixia was minor in comparison.

Perhaps the Commander wished to sever relations with Sitia and he planned to confer with Valek about it tonight.

“You know, the Commander didn’t specify which messenger you could send to warn Yelena,” Janco said.

Valek waited.

“We could deliver that message to her,” Ari said, catching on. “Then hang around and investigate the smuggling operation.”

“Oh yeah. The best way to discover the new routes is to infiltrate their operations. In fact—” Janco slapped the table. “I still have a few contacts in Fulgor. They might have some leads to the smugglers.”

Janco had worked undercover as an officer at the Wirral maximum-security prison, which was located in the city of Fulgor in the Moon Clan’s lands.

“I thought you were looking forward to being in Ixia and away from all that ‘magical muckety-muck,’” Valek quoted.

Janco pished. “Discovering the smugglers is more important.”

True. However, rushing off into the unknown never sat well with him. He preferred to gather information, collect data, observe and then infiltrate before making an arrest. Yelena had her magic, and she’d promised to return to the Magician’s Keep after he’d left. No doubt the Masters would inform her of Ben Moon’s status and ensure that she’d be well protected.

Anger flared for a moment. He should have killed Ben right away. Valek had slipped inside Wirral once before to tie up a few loose ends. And Ben Moon was definitely a loose end. Too bad Ben hadn’t been caught in Ixia like his brother. Owen had attempted to steal the Ice Moon from a diamond mine in Ixia, coercing Yelena to help him by kidnapping Leif. A smart and powerful magician, Owen had almost succeeded, but was outsmarted and executed four years ago. Ben blamed Yelena and, a year later, had tried to cut her throat.

Valek considered. Despite the Commander’s orders, he didn’t plan to leave it to the Sitian authorities.

“Before we do anything, I’ll check with my network in Sitia,” Valek said. “One of ours may already have eyes on Ben and his cohorts. Same with the new smuggling routes.”

“What do you want us to do in the meantime?” Ari asked.

“Go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Janco perked up. “I could use a new dagger and a short sword and a set of sais. I’ve been drooling for a pair since Opal—”

“Not that kind of shopping, you dolt,” Ari said. “He wants us to shop for black-market goods.”

“Correct. And see if you can...persuade the sellers into revealing their sources.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll go first thing in the morning.” Ari stood.

Janco groaned. “What’s wrong with going in the afternoon? We’ll avoid the crowds and I can catch up on my sleep and it’s warmer.”

Ari ignored his partner and headed for the door.

Janco trailed after. “I’ve been working undercover for the past two years. It’s hard to rest when you might wake up to a knife at your throat. I should visit my mother. I haven’t seen her in—”

The door closed on Janco’s prattle. He might be annoying and have a short attention span, but he could be counted on when a situation turned serious. Then he was focused and deadly with his sword.

Valek sat a moment longer, savoring the quiet. He needed to review the piles of reports that waited for him on his desk so he could prepare for his meeting tonight. The Commander’s stiff manner during supper warned him it wouldn’t be pleasant.

* * *

As expected, stacks of files filled every square inch of his desk. Although Maren had kept his office clean of dust while he’d been in Sitia for most of the past year, the room smelled musty and a stuffiness pressed against his skin. Valek wove through the piles of books and heaps of stones that littered the floor, lit the lanterns and candles ringing his desk, opened the window a crack and settled in his chair.

Maren had been in charge during his absence. Again he wondered what mission she’d been assigned and how long she’d been gone. Perhaps he’d find out tonight. Practical as always, Maren had organized the reports into three categories—general updates, important and action required. Notes written in her loopy handwriting accompanied each one. Handy, it would make it easier, but still time-consuming since the reports from his network of spies had been written in code that had to be deciphered.

Sneaking into Wirral and helping the Bloodrose Clan win their freedom was more appealing than sifting through all the files. However, years of experience had taught Valek that golden nuggets of information resided within these piles. He’d just have to dig through them one at a time.

Hours later, a light knocking on his door jolted him from a detailed description of the Hunecker quarry operations in MD-4.

“Yes?” he called, grasping the handle of his sword with his right hand and palming a dagger with his left.

A guard entered slowly.

Smart man.

“Commander Ambrose has retired for the evening, sir.”

Valek studied the man’s face, committing the guard’s features to memory. “Thank you...?”

He straightened. “Sergeant Gerik, sir.”

“You’re new. How long have you been with the Commander’s security detail?”

“Three seasons, sir. I was assigned by Adviser Maren.”

Ah. “Has anyone else been promoted in my absence?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you, Gerik. You’re dismissed.”

Gerik did an about-face and left. Valek added the man’s name to the list he’d written of items he needed to follow up on. New personnel in the Commander’s detail were not unheard-of, but Valek performed a complete background check on each candidate before he or she was assigned. Perhaps the paperwork for Gerik waited in one of the stacks he had yet to peruse. Those would take another couple of days to complete.

At least Valek had found a few clues that might lead them to uncovering the new smuggling routes. And, even better, he had an action plan to report to the Commander.

Valek swept up a few files, extinguished the lanterns and candles, and locked his office door. The three complex locks prevented most intruders from gaining entry. However, a professional could pop them in minutes.

Heading to the Commander’s suite, Valek passed a few servants and soldiers, recognizing them all. He nodded at those who met his gaze. A few returned the gesture while others kept their gazes on the floor.

Two massive wooden doors guarded by two soldiers Valek knew well blocked the entrance to what had once been the King’s royal apartments. The guards opened the doors, allowing Valek to pass into a short hallway.

When the Commander’s forces took control of Ixia about twenty-three years ago, Ambrose divided the King’s expansive rooms into two suites, one for him and one for Valek. The hall had only two doors opposite each other. Valek knocked on the one on the left and waited.

A faint “come in” sounded. Valek entered the Commander’s main living room. The Commander’s living space matched the rest of the castle. In a word, utilitarian. After the takeover, Ambrose had stripped the castle of all its opulent decorations. Paintings were removed, tapestries shredded and statues crushed. If it didn’t have a specific or useful purpose, it didn’t stay.

Instead of sitting in his favorite armchair near the fireplace, the Commander sat behind his desk facing the entrance. He still wore his uniform. A bad sign. Valek approached.

“Sit.” The Commander gestured to a hard chair with his quill. “Report.”

Valek perched on the edge. “Ari and Janco are going to sniff around the markets tomorrow and see if they can get a lead on the suppliers of the illegal goods. Once we’ve identified them, we’ll follow them and see where they cross back into Sitia.”

“A good start. Anything else?”

“No, but—”

“You’re dismissed.” The Commander returned to his work.

Valek didn’t move.

The Commander ignored him. Valek studied his boss. Thin, clean-shaven despite the late hour, and with a couple more wrinkles than the last time Valek’d been in Ixia. They’d been working together for the past twenty-four years. Cold fury emanated from Ambrose, and Valek wasn’t going to leave until he discovered why.

The top of the desk resembled the rest of the room: neat, spartan, and no ink stained the wood. However, a single decoration stood out amid the starkness. A ylang-ylang flower crafted from small multicolored stones glued together. Probably a gift from Yelena. Her clan, the Zaltanas, had a number of artists who created those figurines.

“You’re disobeying a direct order, Valek. Do I need to call for the guards and have you arrested?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Valek asked.

“And if I say no?”

“Then you’ll need to call the guards.”

The Commander set down his quill. “You have one minute.”

“Spit it out, Ambrose. Why are you so upset with me?”

The silence stretched.

Valek waved a hand, indicating the two of them. “This isn’t going to work. If we no longer have an open rapport with us batting ideas back and forth, then fire me or arrest me.”

Nothing.

Last try. “Our relationship has always been based on complete trust and—”

“And I trusted you to tell me everything.”

Ah. There it was. Valek had kept one thing from the Commander. He reported all his adventures in Sitia, and obtained permission to render aid, but he had failed to inform Ambrose about the disturbing fact that a null-shield bubble could trap him. The reason? Initially to keep the knowledge from spreading. But in omitting the Commander from the list of those in the know, Valek acted as if he didn’t trust the Commander, which wasn’t true at all. So why didn’t he tell him?

“I’m sorry.”

How did the Commander find out? Who did know? Those fighting in the Bloodrose revolt—Opal, Devlen, Ari, Janco, Quinn, Kade, Heli, Nic and Eve. Quite the list. Who had opportunity? Anyone could have sent a message, but why would they? Only three people had been in Ixia since then: Ari, Janco and Kade.

“Not good enough, Valek.”

“You’re right.” He stood. “I’ll go collect—”

“Sit down.”

Valek resumed his seat.

The Commander studied Valek. The force of his gaze had broken many people, rendering them into a quivering mess as they begged forgiveness or confessed to every crime. It was impressive. And Valek suspected the Commander used a form of magic even though Valek had never felt it. To him, magic pushed against his skin like molasses. The stronger the power, the thicker the air around him. The Commander’s appraisal certainly held enough weight. The C-shaped scar on his chest burned in response.

“Why?” Ambrose asked.

Digging deep within himself, Valek considered the question. His immunity to magic was not only a part of him, but a protection. Years of practice had honed his fighting skills, and experience with spies, criminals and schemers had given him a sharp mind. To be trapped in a null-shield bubble and encased within an invisible force field of magic galled him. A silly thing to have such dire circumstances. But his weakness meant he could no longer be... What? Invincible? Did he have that huge of an ego? Or was it another thing altogether...?

“Fear,” Valek said into the silence. “That once you found out, you’d no longer need me. I am getting older, and Ari and Janco could—”

“Drive me insane. No, thank you. Do you really think I’d replace you because of one drawback? Actually, two.”

“Two?”

“Yelena.”

“I think she’s an asset.”

“Until her life is compromised. That would be the easiest way to hurt you. Or influence you.”

True. “I guess I just need more time to...adjust to my predicament.”

“Time is an excellent way to gain perspective. I trust this won’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Commander pushed away from his desk and swiped a decanter of brandy before settling into the cerulean suede armchair. He waved Valek into the other chair and poured two drinks.

Valek sipped the spicy liquid. Blackberry. A pleasant warmth spread into his stomach and he smiled, remembering when he’d taught Yelena how to detect poisons in various flavors of brandy. She’d gotten drunk at the General’s brandy meeting and tried to seduce him. Talk about self-control. Valek had deposited her in her bedroom and bolted before he ravished her. Worry had trumped desire. She might have regretted it when she sobered, and he’d wanted more from her than a drunken one-night stand.

With the tension between him and the Commander gone, Valek asked how he’d found out about the null shields.

“Janco mentioned it before you arrived. He’d assumed I knew and I didn’t correct him. And during his monologue of prattle, he remarked that he has a certain sensitivity to magic. Is that true?”

“Yes, he’s pretty good at seeing through magical illusions.”

“Useful. What about Opal Cowan? After all that training, is she going to join your corps?”

“Not quite.” Valek swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “She offered to assist us if we need her.” He set his glass down. “And she sent you a present.”

“One of her glass animals?”

“No. She no longer is able to make her magical messengers, but what she can now do is far more useful to us.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be right back.” Valek dashed across the hall and grabbed the package from his saddlebags that had been delivered as promised. He returned and handed it to the Commander.

Unwrapping the cloth, Ambrose uncovered a lifelike glass snow cat. He examined the hand-sized statue. “Her artistic skill has improved, but it doesn’t glow with an inner fire.” He raised a slender eyebrow, inviting Valek to explain.

“That fire was her magic trapped inside.” And only visible to magicians and the Commander. “What’s inside that snow cat is a bit of her immunity. What you’re holding is a magic detector. When a magician uses magic near that cat, it will flash with light, alerting you to its presence.”

“Clever. Is she mass-producing these for the Sitians?”

“The Councilors all have one for protection, and in case a rogue magician tries to use magic to influence them. Regarding mass production, I don’t know what Opal plans. The Sitian Council wishes to be in charge of the distribution, but Opal won’t give them control. I think she’s letting her father handle the allocation of the detectors.”

“Wise.” The Commander tapped a finger on the glass. “And our spies can purchase more of these for us, evening the playing field a little between Ixia and Sitia.”

“They still have those super messengers.”

Ambrose frowned. “Those put us at an extreme disadvantage.”

Valek agreed. The messenger was a glass cube with a magic-charged black diamond at its heart. The cube allowed magicians to communicate over vast distances instantly. An indispensable tool, and one that would give Sitia a big advantage during warfare.

“We can hire magicians and they would no longer have the upper hand,” Valek said despite the Commander’s deepening scowl. “You know how versatile magicians are and how many ways they could aid Ixia.”

“Better to stop the Sitians from making the super messengers. If we assassinate Quinn Bloodrose, Sitia couldn’t produce any more.”

The thought of killing Quinn didn’t sit well with Valek. “Not quite. They could still charge the blacks with magic and encase them in glass, but once the magic is gone, it’d be useless. Quinn’s the only one who can recharge them without cracking the diamond.”

“Then we need to steal the diamonds and sabotage their mining operations.”

Once they’d won their freedom, the Bloodrose Clan kept dredging the sand for the black diamonds, going deeper into the sea with each sweep. Soon they’d have to use boats.

“It would be difficult.” His stomach soured.

“Look into it after you find the new smuggling route.” The Commander finished his drink. “I need to write a note to General Rasmussen and have him check his beaches for black diamonds.” He returned to his desk.

Valek held up his glass. The light from the fire reflected off the amber liquid. An odd shuffle-step sounded behind him. He jumped to his feet, yanked out his dagger and spun in one fluid motion.

A figure dressed from head to toe in black pressed a knife to the Commander’s throat.

5

YELENA

“Other than needing a full night’s rest, you’re healthy,” Healer Hayes said. He’d examined me using both his magic and a mundane physical check. Opening a file with my name on it, he jotted a few notes.

How could good news be bad? I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Are you sure you didn’t detect a poison?”

“All your body systems are working properly. I didn’t sense any taint or rot or infection. I’m very sorry.”

Frustration grew. “Do you know or have you heard of any substance that would cause my problem?”

I’d explained the entire story to him when I’d arrived at his office in the infirmary an hour ago. Hayes had listened without interruption, then led me to an examination room. Located on the ground floor of the administration building, the infirmary had a number of private rooms for recovering patients as well as an open area of beds for those who needed only a few hours. Unfortunately, I’d spent more time under Healer Hayes’s care than most.

“No. I can read through my medical books and see if there is a mention of such a substance. It’s a long shot, Yelena. If someone had discovered this poison before, it would have caused trouble and been reported by now.”

“Unless it had been forgotten like Curare. That had been mentioned in a history book about the Sandseed Clan and, combined with the knowledge from a Sandseed healer, my father had been able to find it in the jungle.” I gasped then groaned over my own stupidity. “My father. He’s discovered many medicines and substances in the Illiais Jungle. He might know about this magic blocker.”

“A good idea.”

I hopped off the table.

“Before you rush off, I need to update your file.”

As I dressed, he asked a bunch of questions.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.” Although most people assumed I was younger because of my five-foot-four-inch height. I twisted my long black hair into a bun and used one of my sets of lock picks to keep it in place. Despite being in the Keep, I couldn’t let my guard down. Especially not now.

“When was your last blood cycle?”

I paused and glanced at him. He kept his gaze trained on the file in front of him.

“And this is relevant how?”

“Your last dose of Moon potion was close to a year ago. You’re due for another, but the timing is critical.”

Oh. Since Valek and I hadn’t even discussed marriage let alone a child, I needed to take the Moon potion. I thought back. “Twenty days ago or so.”

“Here.” He handed me a vial full of a white liquid. “Drink this right after your next cycle.”

“All right.” I put the potion in my backpack and left the infirmary. Disappointment over his prognosis stabbed. While I hadn’t thought Healer Hayes would have the cure, I’d hoped for more. At least I still had other avenues to explore.

Perhaps my father had heard of the poison. Esau had given me a field guide to help me identify plants to use in healing. After I discovered my healing powers, I no longer needed it, but I’d kept it. I would read through it tonight.

Hungry for the first time in days, I headed to the dining hall located right behind the administration building. Remembering what Irys had said about not interacting with the students, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches and bolted, nodding at a few people I recognized on my way out.

I found a quiet sunny spot in the gardens—the green center of the Keep—to eat my dinner. The two apprentice wings bracketed the gardens to the east and west. From the top of Irys’s tower, the buildings resembled parentheses. I considered my next move.

Bain wished for an investigation into the identity of the assassin who’d attacked me. I needed to talk to my brother and Fisk. Also Leif had helped our father with his jungle research, and he might know about the poison. I could search for Leif or I could ask the one person who would know where Leif was—his wife, Mara.

When I finished my meal, I strode northeast through the campus. A few students milled about and others dashed between buildings. The sunlight warmed the air and in a few months color would invade the Keep along with the warm season, and the gardeners would plant flowers with vicious delight.

As the manager of the glass workshop, Mara would no doubt be overseeing the student magicians who learned how to work with glass. I wondered if Quinn charged the black diamonds used for the super messengers here or in his rooms. Since he was an older student who’d already learned how to use his magic, he’d been assigned to the apprentice wing just like I had been six years ago.

Any glass artist could encase the diamond in glass, but only Quinn could charge them with his magic. He was in the same position Opal had been when she’d manufactured her animal-shaped messengers—one of a kind and vital to Sitia. Loads of pressure for the young man to bear. That intensity had almost crushed Opal, but she proved to be as strong and versatile as the glass she loved and now she easily bore the responsibility of being the only person able to create those magic detectors.

If I couldn’t reclaim my magic, I’d need to purchase a detector in defense. Lovely. What else would I need? Chain mail and body armor? Bodyguards? I rolled my stiff shoulder. My magic hadn’t saved me from the assassin’s arrow. Small comfort.

White smoke billowed from the stack atop the glass workshop. When I entered, the heat pushed against my skin like a wet wool blanket. The roar of the kilns rumbled deep in my chest and through the soles of my boots. Students sat at gaffer benches, spinning their iron rods to shape the molten glass gathered on the end. Others blew into pipes and the glass expanded into bubbles.

I scanned the activity, seeking a familiar face. In the center of the bustle stood Mara, instructing a student. A beautiful woman with a heart-shaped face and the sweetest soul. My brother had done plenty of stupid, annoying and crazy things, but marrying Mara had been the smartest thing he’d ever done.

Her tawny-colored eyes lit when she spotted me. A kerchief tied back her golden-brown hair. Dirt smudged her cheek and her apron had seen better days. She gestured to her office and held up two fingers.

Understanding the signal, I wove through the glassmaking equipment and entered the relative coolness of her office. Glass vases, paperweights, bowls and tumblers littered the room. Student efforts or Mara’s, I couldn’t tell. Did my sister-in-law even have time to produce her own work? The Council hoped another magician would develop an affinity with glass like Mara’s sister, Opal, and Quinn, so a steady stream of first years arrived for their mandatory glass lessons. Those who enjoyed it continued to study the art during the rest of their five-year stay at the Keep.

I settled in the chair next to her desk, considering how much had changed since Opal’s glass magic had been discovered. It gave me a bit of comfort. Despite Bain’s lifelong quest to learn about magic and magicians, he’d never heard of Opal’s particular skills. Therefore, there was no reason to panic because he hadn’t heard of a magic-blocking poison.

Mara bustled in with a swish of skirts and I stood.

She embraced me. “Yelena! What a wonderful surprise. I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Then she pulled away and frowned. “Is something—”

“Nothing’s wrong. Valek had to leave early. The Commander’s patience had finally run out.”

“Oh dear, I hope he’s not in trouble.”

“In trouble? No. Causing trouble? Always.”

Her musical laugh warmed me.

She closed the door to her office, reducing the noise of the kilns and ensuring privacy. “Would you like some tea?” Mara lifted a glass teapot by its handle.

“Yes, please.”

She poured two steaming cups and then sat down.

“Is that—”

“One of Quinn’s hot glass pieces? Yes. It stays hot for days. A marvel! He’s a darling boy and gave it to me when I cleared two hours each evening just for him. Poor boy doesn’t like working with a crowd drooling over his shoulder. Who would?” Mara sipped from her cup. “And I had to ban the kitchen staff, too. They love his hot and cold glass and had been pestering him for more pieces. Who knew keeping meat cold keeps it from spoiling longer?” Wonder touched her voice.

“Has he discovered any other glass abilities since coming here?”

“He’s been concentrating on the messengers and the temperature glass. Opal told me he could attach a null shield to glass and other...” Mara swept her arms out as if searching for the right word. “Emotions. But between his classes and his work, the poor boy hasn’t had time to experiment.”

Interesting about the null shield. “He’s here every night?”

“Except for one night a week.”

Keeping my tone neutral, I asked, “Which night?”

Mara gazed at me. “Why? Is it important?”

Shoot. She’d been spending too much time with Leif.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh.” She waited.

“Oh all right. I want to talk to him.”

“Better. Let’s see...” Mara checked a ledger on her desk. “He was here the last couple of nights... His night off was four days ago.”

The timing matched the night of the attack. My heart thumped. “What does he do on his nights off?”

“He has riding lessons.”

Oh. Still, he could have missed his lesson. I needed to talk to the Stable Master.

“Is that the reason you stopped by?” Mara asked.

“No, I was looking for Leif.” Only after I said it did I realize how it must have sounded. “And to visit you.” Weak.

“How nice.” Her tone didn’t match her words.

“Sorry. It’s just...something came up and I haven’t been sleeping...” Weaker.

Concern softened the hard lines around her mouth. “And it’s probably some political problem that you can’t tell me. Between Leif and Opal, I’m used to being in the dark.”

From the way her shoulders drooped, I knew she was far from used to the idea, yet she put on a brave front. I drank my tea and reflected. Leif and Mara hadn’t even been married a year yet. It had been a lovely wedding and she had glowed with pure joy. She was part of my family. Kidnapped from Sitia at age six, I’d grown up in Ixia believing I had no family. Dreams of a fictional loving family had helped me through the dark times. And now I planned to enlist Leif’s help, taking his time away from Mara. Not very nice.

“The reason I need to talk to my brother is...” I filled her in on what had happened.

Mara clutched her apron, gathering the fabric into a tight bunch, but she didn’t say a word. When I finished, she slid off her chair and hugged me.

“Oh, Yelena, that’s terrible.” She squeezed tight then let go. “What can I do to help?”

“Help?” I hadn’t thought about it.

“Of course. I’m sure you have a plan of attack. And don’t tell me to keep it quiet. I’m not an idiot.”

True. “Can you find out if any of the students are able to siphon magic? Opal had done it with glass, but perhaps there is another magician who can do it with another object.”

She brightened. “I can. I know all the students and they like to brag about who can do what.” She held up her hand. Burn scars marked her fingers and wrist. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet. Are you going to talk to Opal? She might have some ideas.”

I groaned. Another possible avenue that I’d missed. “I will.”

“Good. Now go get some sleep. Leif’s at the Council Hall this morning, but he’ll be in the training yard later this afternoon, helping Marrok teach the juniors how to defend against a machete.”

“Thanks.”

She escorted me out the door and then remained on the workshop’s steps, ensuring I headed in the right direction. Another knot in my stomach eased as I skirted the pasture that occupied the space between the glass shop and the stables. Telling Mara had been the right thing to do.

When I entered the large wooden barn, Kiki whinnied a welcome. She looked over the Stable Master’s broad shoulder as he bent to clean dirt from her hooves. Her copper coat shone, her mane had been brushed and her whiskers were trimmed. Oh no.

“I was planning on—”

“Yeah, yeah.” The Stable Master cut me off. “Always the same. In a hurry with urgent business to attend to. I’ve heard all the excuses.” He moved to her back feet. “She was a muddy mess,” he grumbled. “Keep taking advantage of her and one day you’ll come out here and she’ll be gone.”

Not unless he stopped feeding her his famous milk oats. I sighed. The Stable Master lived and breathed horses. To him, nothing was more important. And he had a point.

“I’m sorry.” I draped my cloak over a stall door, picked up a comb and worked on untangling her tail. Then I helped him clean tack and muck out stalls until he no longer muttered quite as much. Which was as good of a mood as possible for him.

Before he left to order more feed, I asked about Quinn’s riding lessons.

“Strong as an ox, that boy,” the Stable Master said. “He don’t look it, but all those years of diving for oysters honed his muscles. See that bay?” He pointed through the window.

A horse with a deep garnet-colored coat and a black mane and tail trotted around the inside of the pasture’s fence. “Yes.”

“Flann’s a son of a bitch—stubborn, spirited and strong. Quinn’s the only one who can ride him.”

“A Sandseed horse?” Sandseed horses, like Kiki, were picky about who they allowed to ride them.

“Nope. One of those new Bloodgood breeds. I was gonna send him back because he’s been a real pain in my ass, but he took a liking to the boy.”

“Is Quinn enjoying his lessons?”

“I don’t care. He shows up on time and has improved. That’s all I care about.”

“Did he miss his last lesson?”

“No. Why?”

And there went another lead. “Flann looks like he needs a workout.”

“Tell that to the Master Magicians. Quinn’s too busy to do more.” The Stable Master hooked his thumb toward the bay. “You’re welcome to try.” He patted Kiki’s neck with affection. “I’m sure Kiki here won’t mind. Will you, girl?” He slipped her a milk oat then left without saying goodbye.

After he left, I scratched Kiki behind her ears. She closed her eyes and leaned closer. Sadness panged deep inside me, radiating out with pain. The loss of our connection hurt the most. And I cringed at the thought of riding another horse. It would also be an unnecessary risk. Kiki rested her chin on my shoulder as if consoling me.

“I’ll figure this out,” I promised her.

She nipped my ear playfully then left the stable. I followed her out. She hopped the pasture’s fence, joining the other horses. I scanned them. Silk, Irys’s horse, and Leif’s horse, Rusalka, nickered a greeting to Kiki.

Exhaustion clung to me, but horse hair and slobber coated my clothes and hands. I stopped at the bathhouse to wash up before I trudged to my apartment in Irys’s tower.

Each Master Magician lived in one of the four towers of the Keep. Irys occupied the northwest tower and Bain had the southeastern one. The northeast tower belonged to Zitora Cowan, Second Magician, even though she’d retired. We all hoped she’d return. The southwest tower still remained empty. Roze Featherstone, who had been the First Magician, had lived there until she betrayed Sitia. After the Warper battle, she was killed and her soul trapped in a glass prison.

When I was no longer considered a student of the Keep, Irys offered me three floors of her tower to use. A generous offer. My few belongings had all fit on one floor, but I had since expanded to another, setting up guest quarters for visitors. So far, only my parents had used the space.

I lumbered up the three flights of steps. At least I hadn’t been gone long enough for my bedroom to be coated with dust. I glanced around. The single bed, armoire, desk, chair and night table all appeared to be undisturbed. My footsteps echoed against the hard marble walls. I hadn’t had time to install tapestries and heavy curtains to absorb the harsh sounds. Good thing since now I’d need to hear an intruder in order to wake up in time to defend myself.

Bending down, I checked under the bed and then opened the armoire. Yes, I felt silly and paranoid, but sleeping would be impossible unless I ensured no one hid in my room.

Satisfied, I tossed my cloak over the chair and crawled into bed. The chilly air swirled as I drew the thick blankets up to my chin. If I had any energy, I would light the brassier nearby. Instead, I drifted to sleep.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t dream.

* * *

I woke a few hours later when the late-afternoon sunlight streamed through my window and touched my face. Without thinking, I reached for my magic and encountered deadness. The desire to curl into a ball and remain in bed pulsed through my heart. But I refused to give up. Plus I needed to speak to Leif. I flung my blankets off.

The training yard was located next to the glass shop. I leaned against the fence and studied the various matches. Most of the students held wooden practice swords or wooden machetes since they were only in their third year at the Keep. They wouldn’t use real weapons until their final, apprentice year.

Leif sparred with a tall lanky student. I smiled at the mismatched pair. His stocky, powerful build, black hair and square face were the opposite of his opponent—a lean, lithe, blonde woman with a pointy chin. She used her longer reach and sword to stay out of his machete’s chopping zone. Moving with the quick grace of a Greenblade, she dodged Leif’s strikes.

However, experience won over fancy footwork and Leif ducked low and rushed her, knocking her down while unarming her. He grinned and helped her to her feet, then explained his strategy.

I waited as he wrapped up the session and lectured the group on where to focus.

“Don’t stare at their eyes or shoulders,” he said. “Watch your opponent’s hips to anticipate his next strike. You’ve seen how a machete can counter a sword with the right moves and tactics. Do you think a machete can fight an opponent with a bo staff?”

A resounding no sounded from the students. Leif’s eyes gleamed and he picked up a five-foot wooden staff that had been lying next to the fence.

“Yelena,” he said and tossed the bo at me.

Instinctively, I caught it in my right hand.

“Let’s show them how it’s done.” Leif set his feet into a fighting stance. “Unless you don’t want to be embarrassed in front of a bunch of juniors?”

His challenge cut right through all reason and logic. It was physically impossible for a younger sister not to rise to her older brother’s bait. Shedding my cloak, I hopped the low fence.

I faced Leif and slid my hands along the smooth grain of the staff out of habit. The action helped me find that zone of concentration that allowed me to sense my opponent’s movements. This time, my fingers rubbed an ordinary piece of wood. No connection flared to life.

Could I still fight without my magic? Everyone had gathered to watch the match—not the best time to experiment. And Irys’s comment about keeping a low profile rose in my mind too late. Oops.

Leif stared at me with an odd expression. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled an offensive odor. Great. Guess I’d have to rely on my training, my experience and the thousands of hours of practice I’d sweated through. My magic couldn’t be that vital in my fighting. Could it?

Despite my worries, I clutched my weapon at the third points and twirled the bo into a ready position. As soon as the match started, I advanced, swinging the tip of the staff toward Leif’s left temple. He backpedaled and blocked my attack. I aimed for his right temple, then left. Right. Left. Feint right. Rib strike. Leif countered with ease.

“Predictable,” he said.

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

My next series of attacks aimed for his ribs, then temple. Rib. Temple. Rib. Chin strike. Leif jumped back with a laugh. Then he advanced. I scrambled to keep his thick blade from chopping my bo in half. When he swung at my neck, instead of blocking the weapon, I ducked and swept his feet out from under him. He landed with an oomph.

Pleased, I relaxed my guard. Big mistake. Leif grabbed my ankle and yanked. I joined him on the ground. And the advantage of having a longer weapon ended there. From that position, his machete had a greater range of motion, and within a few strikes, he disarmed me.

Far from being triumphant with his win, concern creased his face. I shook my head and signaled for him to keep his mouth shut. Valek had taught us both hand signals to communicate when talking would give away our hidden positions or our plans to an enemy listening nearby.

He sprang to his feet and gestured to me while addressing the students. “See? A machete can defend against a bo staff if you can get in close. Yelena let me take her down in order to demonstrate to you one way to gain an advantage. Normally, she isn’t so easy to beat. That’s it for today.”

The students picked up the training swords and talked in groups as they returned the weapons to the armory connected to the yard. I wiped dirt from my pants.

Once everyone left, Leif turned to me. “Okay, spill it. What’s wrong? You smell...”

Leif’s magic smelled people’s intentions and emotions. He frequently helped with solving crimes due to his unique ability to sniff out criminals. When we’d been reunited after fourteen years apart, he’d proclaimed to our entire clan that I’d killed and reeked of blood. Nice, eh?

“What do I smell like?”

“You smell like death.”

6

VALEK

Valek studied the figure standing behind the Commander. Five feet eight inches tall, about one hundred and forty pounds, either a young male or female—hard to tell when the only thing not covered with black was the assassin’s light gray eyes. Armed with a dagger, which was currently pressed against the Commander’s throat, but Valek guessed the assassin carried more than one knife.

The Commander frowned with annoyance.

“Impressive,” Valek said, sipping his brandy. He tightened his grip on his knife, suppressing his anger at the Commander’s security detail for not stopping the intruder. He’d deal with them later.

“Move and I’ll slit his throat,” the assassin said in a gravelly voice.

Not a natural tone, and Valek suspected the person wished to hide his or her true voice. It was an empty threat. If the assassin had wanted to kill the Commander, he’d have been dead before Valek had turned around.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about,” Valek said.

Ambrose moved, grabbing the attacker’s wrists, yanking the blade down and away from his body. He spun, trapping the assassin’s arm. Within a minute the knife clanged to the floor and the Commander had the intruder at his mercy.

“Good show, old man,” he said even though Ambrose was only about seven years older than Valek. “You still have the best knife-defense skills in the Territory. Do you want me to dispose of...that for you?” He set his drink down.

“No,” the assassin cried in a higher-pitched voice this time. “I have the right to challenge you to a fight!”

“As soon as you climbed through that window, you gave up all your rights.” Valek moved closer and yanked the hood off the intruder.

Unafraid, a young woman glared at him. “You know I had the drop on him. How many others have sneaked in here? None. Come on. Let me show you what I can do with a knife.”

“Fine by me. Commander?”

The Commander released her. “Don’t take too long, Valek. I’ve an early meeting.” He settled behind his desk.

She glanced from him to the Commander and back.

“Don’t worry. He won’t interfere.”

“How about when I’m about to gut you?” she asked.

“If you can gut him, go ahead,” the Commander said.

“Such love. I’m touched.” Valek patted his chest. “Pick up your knife,” he said to the intruder. He switched his dagger to his right hand and turned his body sideways, keeping the weapon close to his stomach. He bent his left arm and held it in front of him to block any incoming strikes.

She mirrored his stance except she held her knife in her left hand. Ah, a lefty. Interesting. They circled and she slashed. He blocked. She shuffled forward and stabbed. He sidestepped. Recovering quickly, she spun and aimed for his throat. He ducked.

Valek remained on the defense as she tried all her offensive moves. She had learned an impressive number of them and he’d gotten a few cuts during a couple of her combination strikes. He had to admit, she was fast. Her style of fighting seemed eerily familiar.

A slight swirl of unease brushed his stomach. Knife fighters tended to let their guard down when striking, believing their opponent would be too busy protecting himself to counterstrike. Not her. She stayed tight.

Without warning, Valek switched to an offensive series of jabs and kicks, bringing the level of the fight up a notch. She dodged, blocked and kept up with the speed of his attack.

As they fought, he tested her weaknesses and found little. When she executed a perfect feint and lunge, he cursed as the tip of her blade jabbed his gut. Pain burned and blood seeped, but Valek increased the pressure. After she snaked past his defense again in another near miss, Valek recognized her fighting style.

“You’re a student of Hedda’s, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Save your breath.” She advanced with a Janco-like flurry of jabs.

He wasn’t winded. But if she kept this pace, he’d be sucking air. Concern grew. He’d managed to slip past her blocks a few times, but years of experience showed him how this fight would play out. It didn’t look good for him.

As the fight continued, her style of attacks changed. She fought more like the Commander. Perhaps she had two teachers—a deadly combination. He needed to end this match. The sooner the better.

Fortunately, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Well, not tricks exactly—he yanked another knife from his right sleeve and attacked with both.

She floundered for a bit, backing up. Then she sidestepped and drew a second knife, as well. While competent with two, she didn’t have the same precision and speed.

After a few minutes, Valek lunged and slashed at her midsection, knocking the weapon from her right hand. He pressed his advantage before she could pull another blade, keeping her arms busy. If Hedda had trained her, she would have three or four more daggers hidden in her clothes.

As the fight continued, she managed to grab another knife. By that time, Valek’d had enough. He stepped back, flipped his weapons over, grasping the blades, and threw them. The hilts slammed into her wrists, numbing her hands. She yelped and her knives clanged to the floor.

Then he shuffled in close and punched her. Hard. With a whoosh, she fell back. He followed her to the floor and pressed one of his favorite daggers to her throat.

“That’s...” she panted “...not...fair.”

“Hedda must have gotten soft in her old age. When she trained me, the words not fair were not part of her vocabulary.”

She grimaced. Ah, he’d hit a nerve. Perhaps the young assassin didn’t agree with all of Hedda’s philosophies.

“Did she send you?” he asked.

Clamping her mouth shut, she stared at him.

“Who trained you?”

The Commander stood and yawned. “While that was entertaining, I must get to bed. Clean up the mess, Valek.”

“Yes, sir.”

The assassin sucked in a quick breath, showing her fear. Hedda hadn’t driven all emotion from the young woman. Which made him wonder if this young pup had finished the training.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To kill you and take your place.”

That would explain why she hadn’t slit the Commander’s throat. But he couldn’t trust her. He yanked a dart from his belt and jabbed it into her arm.

“Listen up. If what you said is true, then I’ll lock you in the dungeon. Escape and find me and we’ll talk. There’s no need to kill me to take my job. Just show that you’re smart, capable, resourceful, cunning, trustworthy, loyal, ruthless and are willing to give your life for the Commander’s and the job is yours.”

She opened her mouth, but instead of words a soft “oh” escaped her lips as the goo-goo juice pumped through her body. Valek stood, gathered all the weapons and pulled her to her feet. She swayed. He grabbed his drink and downed it in one gulp.

What a night.

Picking up a lantern, he led her to his suite so their conversation didn’t bother the Commander. She plopped into a chair and scanned the room with a bewildered expression. “So...much...junk! Are you an assassin or a crow?”

Crouching next to her, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Onora. I’m an assassin. Shh...don’t tell anyone.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Which Military District are you from?”

“MD-2. I escaped.”

“Escaped from what?”

“The captain. Shh...don’t tell him I’m here.”

“Captain who?”

“Cap-pa-tain Timmer, thinks he’s a winner, and we must all obey,” she sang.

“Why are you here?” he asked again since it was almost impossible to lie while under the influence of the goo-goo juice.

“To kill. You, of all people, should know that! King killer.”

No doubt Hedda had trained her. “Did Hedda send you?”

“Hedda smedda. Crazy old bat. Stubborn. Stupid. Gone. Gone for good.”

“You killed her?”

“I...stopped her. No more assassins.”

Ice coated his heart. “She’s dead?”

“Right-o! Dead to the world.”

Valek stood and fingered his dagger. Hedda had taught him the skills that had kept him alive all these years. Anger and sorrow melted the ice inside him and Valek aimed the tip of the knife at her throat.

He buried the blade into the cushion next to her head. Onora jumped. He could always change his mind. Perhaps after he’d wrung every bit of information from her.

“How did you get into the castle?”

Onora explained in a roundabout rambling way how she slipped past the gate’s guards, climbed up the side of the castle, jimmied open a window. “Easy as pie in the oven.”

“How did you know where the Commander’s suite is?”

“Gotta friend working inside. Shh...sweet soul doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?”

“Doesn’t know I know. I tricked. Have to protect... Have to protect...”

“Protect who?”

She shook her head. “Have to... Have to...protect.”

Even with the goo-goo juice, Onora wouldn’t say the name of her friend. Frustrating. At least it sounded as if the friend had been an unwitting accomplice.

When Valek was satisfied, he pulled her up and towed her to the guards outside the main door.

“I found an intruder in the Commander’s suite,” Valek said, handing her over.

The guards straightened as the color leaked from their faces.

“Ha,” Onora said. “I found him!”

Valek gestured to two of the men. “Take her to the dungeon. Have Lieutenant Abira strip-search her, check every inch of her skin for putty, comb her hair for weapons and dress her in one of our coveralls before incarcerating her. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We will discuss this incident in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before they left, Valek pricked Onora with another dose of goo-goo juice to ensure she’d remain incapacitated until morning. It would be interesting to see if she was resourceful enough to escape the dungeon.

Returning to his apartment, Valek picked up the lantern and searched the first floor. Aside from being filled with boxes and clutter, the three rooms off his living area were empty of intruders. Valek paused at the threshold of the bedroom that had been Yelena’s. He’d kept her close to him with the pretense of protecting her. And while she attracted trouble like a sweet cake drew ants, the true reason had been that he had been fascinated by her and wanted her near.

Back then he couldn’t touch her and they were together all the time, but now...they were heart mates and apart most of the time. The dusty air scratched at the back of his throat. What if Onora had succeeded and killed him? He’d never see Yelena again. Unless she visited him in the fire world. He huffed with dry amusement. He’d taken Hedda’s teachings to heart. His soul was destined for an eternity trapped in the fire world.

He shut the door and climbed the steps to the second floor. It mirrored the first floor with three rooms to the right of a sitting area. More boxes, books and piles of rocks littered the floor. After a quick peek inside the bedrooms, he retreated down a long hallway to the left of the sitting area. A few more chambers lined the right side of the corridor. A stone wall ran along the left. More packed rooms. Empty of threats. The only organized area was Valek’s carving room.

Stone dust covered the grinding wheels, worktable and pyramids of the gray stone he used for his carvings. The lumpy rocks were dull and lifeless, but with a chisel, grinder and sand, they transformed into beautiful black statues with flecks of silver. The hours he spent in here not only honed his artistic skills, but his mind, as well. Many times he’d enter with a vexing problem and leave with a solution.

He unlocked the door to his bedroom, then secured it behind him. No windows in this chamber. Glancing under the bed and in the armoire, he relaxed for a moment. Then Valek stripped off his shirt. The cut in his stomach had stopped bleeding. Good. He changed into his black skintight sneak suit. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he checked the castle walls for spiders.

* * *

Alighting on the balcony outside his apartment’s first-floor living area, Valek flexed his fingers. The combination of climbing up and down the cold stone walls plus the fight with Onora earlier had stiffened his muscles. He had found no other intruders—the good news—but he’d also discovered how Onora had reached the Commander’s room—the bad.

The lapse in security would be addressed in the morning. Valek glanced to the east. The sun would be up in a few hours. He headed to his bed, peeled off the sneak suit and slid under the blankets.

Exhausted beyond measure, Valek still couldn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling, mourning Hedda’s death. After his brothers had been murdered, he’d searched for a teacher for two seasons. During that time, many people took advantage of him, selling him bad information, tricking him, or outright knocking him down and stealing the money he’d earned when he’d worked at his father’s tannery. A hard lesson on whom to trust. No one.

Hungry, sick and drained, he’d spent his last coin on the slim chance that the street rat did indeed know the location of a teacher. Valek found the remote complex along the rocky coast of MD-1 at the beginning of the warm season. The gates had been secured for the night and he sat on the stoop and waited in the cold damp air that smelled like salted fish. The irony of having searched all of Ixia for a teacher only to end up within miles of Icefaren, his hometown, was not lost on him.

Eventually he passed out on the hard stone for hours or days—he didn’t know nor care at that point. Cold water splashed, jolting him awake. The sun was high in the sky. He blinked, wiping his eyes.

A woman in her midthirties with long red hair peered at him through the gate’s bars. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” She set the bucket down.

“Are you the mistress of this school?”

“I am. What do you want?”

He stood to face her. His legs shook with the effort, but he met her hard gaze without flinching. “I. Want. To. Kill. The. King.”

She studied him. “Ambitious.”

At least she didn’t laugh at him. A good sign.

“Can you fight?”

“No.”

“Have you killed anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you have any family?”

“No.” His parents had pleaded with him to stay at home and not ruin his life by seeking revenge. He ignored them. When he left, they told him never to return. He was no longer their son.

“Do you have any skills?”

“No.”

“Money?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

She shook her head. “Scrawny, penniless, homeless and without any redeeming qualities. Why should I accept you as my student?”

“Because I will kill the King. And the claim that you trained the man who assassinated the King will be a nice feather in your cap.”

The humid air thickened around Valek, pressing against his skin like a sticky syrup. She pursed her lips as she stared at him. “Ten days.”

“Ten?”

“To prove yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. If you don’t prove yourself—”

“Save it for the next applicant. I won’t fail.”

Hedda opened the gate and he followed her up a narrow winding path to a sprawling complex of buildings atop a cliff overlooking the Sunset Ocean. The stone walls resembled the grayish-white rocky outcroppings surrounding the complex. The few people working outside wore subdued tunics and pants that also blended in with the landscape.

She made a grand sweeping gesture, indicating the buildings. “Welcome to the School of Night and Shadows. How many people do you see?”

Valek scanned the area, counting. “Ten.”

Hedda whistled. Movement exploded and figures jumped, crawled and slid from various nooks and shadows around the complex.

“Now how many?” she asked.

“More than ten.”

“Correct. The best assassins are invisible. No magic needed.”

When they drew close to the biggest structure—a four-story-high building with balconies facing the sea—Hedda called to a man. “Fetch Arbon. Tell him to meet me in my office.”

“Yes, sir.” The man dashed away.

Hedda led him into the main building and to an office on the ground floor. Out of the bright sunlight, Valek studied the woman. She wore a soft gray-green tunic and matching pants. Long red eyelashes framed light green eyes.

Gesturing to a chair, she settled behind a pristine desk. Nothing occupied the surface. He glanced around the room. A few tapestries hung on the gray-white-black walls. The color reminded him of seagull droppings. No fire burned in the fireplace. The sparse furnishings held no warmth and he guessed this wasn’t her true office, but a place to conduct business with outsiders.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Valek.”

“Tell me why you want to kill the King.”

“Does it matter?”

“Very much.”

“His men murdered my brothers.” Red-hot agony burned in the center of his heart as an image of their bodies flashed in front of him, but he clamped down on his emotions.

She studied him. “Then why not go after them?”

“Oh, they will die, too.”

“But that’s not good enough?”

“No.” He spat the word out. “They murder in his name. The King’s corruption has gone too far.”

“Did you know the King is a powerful magician?”

“Yes.”

“And that he’s well protected?”

“Yes.”

“And you still believe you can kill him?”

“Yes.”

“How much time are you willing to dedicate to this endeavor?”

“As long as it takes. If my last breath is one second after the King’s last gasp, I will die a happy man.”

Hedda grinned. “One thing at a time. Let’s see how long you last, King Killer.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Arbon, come in and meet Valek.”

A young teen around Valek’s age slipped into the room. His black hair had been shorn close to his scalp.

“Take him to the medic then feed him and show him around. He can have Pyo’s cell.”

“Yes, sir,” Arbon said.

“Valek, I’d suggest you concentrate on getting healthy. Once you begin training, luxuries like eating and sleeping are not guaranteed.”

Valek smiled at the memory. He had used that phrase—eating and sleeping are not guaranteed—a thousand times with the men and women he had trained for his corps. It was as true today as it had been twenty-eight years ago. Of course, then he’d been a stupid kid and had no idea that lack of sleep and missed meals would be the least of his problems. Ah, youth.

Still unable to sleep, Valek pushed off his covers, dressed in his uniform and ghosted down to the dungeon to check on the newest occupant.

The guards snapped to attention and followed protocol to the letter. Everyone was worried about the consequences of the midnight assassin. As well they should be. Valek planned to demote them to privates and send them to guard the diamond mines in MD-3.

A thought occurred to him. What if the new guy...Gerik, was Onora’s friend and he’d inadvertently tipped her off to the lapse in security? Even if that was the case, the members of the Commander’s detail had been chosen for a reason and their system of double checks should have revealed the gap.

Sleeping off the goo-goo juice, Onora sprawled on the cell’s metal bed, which had been bolted to the bars. Her brown braid had been pulled apart and her hair fanned around her face like a messy mane.

“Keep a close eye on her, but don’t alert her to the extra security,” Valek said to the guard.

“Sir?”

“I want to see if she tries to escape.”

“And if she does?”

“Let her go. I’ll have one of my corps in place to follow her.”

“Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Valek swung by the kitchen to swipe a couple of apples before waking up Qamra and assigning her babysitting duties.

“How good is she, sir?” Qamra asked.

“Don’t let her get close to you. Bring your darts and blowpipe.”

“Yes, sir.” She hopped from her bed.

He left and headed to his office. Qamra had the best aim in his entire corps. He’d put her through the paces, thrown every obstacle and distraction in her way, and she never missed. Valek wished he could say that about all his operatives. Blow in Janco’s ear and he’d miss every time. But that was the beauty of training—it exposed the strengths and weaknesses of his corps so he could match jobs to agents.

At Hedda’s school, though, she hadn’t allowed weaknesses. Every skill had to be mastered before learning another. When Valek had been a student and he’d regained his health, his training began in earnest.

Arbon had shown him the long narrow one-story building then left Valek there without a word. An instructor gave Valek a stone about as big as his thumbnail. The man pointed to a target at one end of the building, then swept an arm out, indicating a series of red marks along the floor.

“Stand on the first mark, closest to the target. When you hit the bull’s-eye with that stone at that position ten times in a row, move to the next one. Repeat. When you can hit the bull’s-eye from the last mark, you will go back to the first mark and practice hitting the target with a knife. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Who would have thought hitting a bull’s-eye with a stone would be that difficult? Hours turned into days and, determined to succeed, Valek only stopped when it was too dark to see. Hedda’s training methods were simple and effective. No one taught you how to throw the stone. Repetition and practice until calluses coated your hands and you figured out the best way to hit a target.

Valek wished he had the time to train his corps the same way. However, time was always an issue. Back in the days before the Commander’s takeover, he had sent promising individuals to Hedda’s school to be trained. After the takeover, the Commander wished to incorporate her school into his military. She refused and had retired. Or so she claimed. Obviously she’d lied, and there might be more assassins in Ixia. Yet another detail to investigate.

He unlocked the door to his office. Even with the first rays of dawn creeping in through the square window, it remained too dark to read. He lit the lanterns. Searching through the files, he found the one on Gerik and read through the man’s dossier. Nothing popped out at him. Maren had performed a thorough background check.

His door banged open. Valek stood and drew both knives without thought.

“Easy there, boss,” Janco said, spreading his hands wide.

“I said to knock. Not to knock the door down.” Ari entered.

“I barely touched it. It wasn’t latched tight.”

Valek returned his knives to their hidden locations and sank into his seat. “Come on in.”

They drew closer.

“Is it true?” Ari asked him.

Nice to know the castle’s gossip network still worked with lightning-fast precision. “Yes.”

“Son of a snow cat!” Janco slapped his thigh. “Did you kill him?”

“Her. And no, I didn’t.”

Ari and Janco glanced at each other in amazement.

“But she reached the Commander.” Janco’s voice held outrage.

“He wasn’t her target.” Valek leaned back in his chair.

Ari smiled. “Possible recruit?”

Or replacement. But Valek wouldn’t say that aloud. “We’ll see if she escapes the dungeon.”

“You want us to hang out near the dungeon, catch her in the act?” Janco asked.

“No. Continue with your assignment, and I’d also like you to nose around and see if you can dig up anything on Sergeant Gerik. He’s a transfer from...” Valek consulted the file. “MD-2 about a year ago, and managed to impress his commanding officer enough to be promoted to the Commander’s security detail.”

“Seems sketchy to me,” Janco said.

“Maren approved it. Do you know where she is?” Valek asked.

“No,” Ari said. “No one does. She slipped out of here without a word a month ago, leaving Mannix in charge, but all the poor guy’s been doing is sorting reports into piles.”

“Keep asking around. See what you can discover.”

“Yes, sir.”

They left and Valek returned to the files. After a few hours, a light tap broke his concentration.

“Yes,” he said.

Gerik poked his head in. Strain lined his haggard face, but he kept his voice even. “The Commander wishes to see you in his war room, sir.”

“Now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Valek straightened a pile of files then followed Gerik out. He locked his door and strode to the war room. Gerik didn’t say a word as he trailed behind. The guards waiting near the entrance flinched when Valek approached. White-faced and with eyebrows pinched tight together, he sensed there was more going on than their fear of being reprimanded.

They pulled open the double doors. Valek entered the room.

Onora sat at the table with the Commander, eating breakfast.

7

JANCO

“You know what I can’t figure out?” Janco asked. He leaned against the wall despite the grime. They hid in yet another garbage-strewn alley that reeked of piss, tracking potential suspects. Ah, the life of a superspy.

“How to tie your laces?” Ari asked.

“Funny. What I want to know is why sell black-market goods this close to the Commander’s castle? Castletown is crawling with soldiers and spies. Why not sell their illegal wares in MD-7 or MD-5 since both are closer to the border?”

“Who says they’re not selling there, too?” Ari crossed his arms. “This is a big city full of people. Criminals like to hide in plain sight.”

“Yeah. They can be smart until they’re stupid.”

Ari’s mouth opened, but then he closed it. Too bad. Janco enjoyed provoking his partner. It helped pass the time. When they did stakeouts that required silence, it killed him to keep quiet. Worse than magic. No, scratch that—nothing was worse than magic.

“There’s the guy with the funky mustache.” Janco pointed to a tall man unlocking one of the warehouse doors. “Could be going to get more of those illegal Greenblade cigars.”

“Or he’s going to warn his boss about the guy who had asked too many questions about those potent cigars,” Ari said drily.

“No way. I was smooth. Subtle. More than subtle.” He pouted.

“I think you’re too recognizable. You should have worn your cap.”

“It itches.”

Ari sighed. “We’ll see what happens next. If they start packing up, we’ll know you hit a nerve.”

Janco fidgeted. He studied the building. “Why don’t we jimmy open that second-story window and slip inside? Better to hear what’s going on than guess.”

“We’ve no idea what’s inside.”

“Exactly.”

“What if there’re guards?”

“So? Not like we can’t handle a couple—”

“And tip them off? By the time we fight our way in, they’ll scatter.”

“Oh, all right.” A few minutes passed without incident. “How about I slip inside and you watch for Funky Mustache?”

“No.”

Janco groaned. He was a man of action. All this sneaking about... Yes, it was necessary and patience led to results. Usually. But give him a fight over this any day.

Hours, seasons, years must have passed while they watched the door. An ordinary green door with paint peeling from the wood, revealing a yellowish-gold color underneath. Curled chips of paint lay on the ground right in front. Probably from when they installed the lock. A shiny knob and keyhole looked out of place on the weathered wood.

Smart until they’re stupid. Install a new lock, but don’t bother to paint the hardware to match the age of the building or bother to clean up.

Janco’s hair turned gray as another few years passed—or so it felt to him. According to Ari, two minutes equaled two years in Janco time.

Ari touched his arm as the door swung open. They melted back into the shadows of the alley. Two men exited. Funky Mustache and a big burly brute. They parted, with Funky heading back to the market and Big Brute cutting through the alley to the other side.

“I’ll follow the new guy,” Ari whispered. “Now’s your chance to sneak inside. Watch out for guards. If you see anyone, don’t engage. We can always come back later tonight. I’ll meet you at the Black Cat Tavern.”

“Get inside, avoid guards, don’t get married, meet at the Cat. Got it,” Janco said.

Ari shot Janco his I-don’t-know-why-I-put-up-with-you look and followed Big Brute. Giving Ari a few minutes to catch up to Big B, Janco showed considerable sense by waiting a handful of months.

Janco slipped off his boots, tied the laces together and swung them over his shoulder. Not bothering with the door, he scaled the wall, finding finger-and toeholds in the crumbling mortar of the old brick structure—his favorite type. His least favorite—the marble walls of the Sitian Citadel; those buildings were slick as ice.

When he reached the second-story window, he peered inside. The sunlight reflected off the glass and made it hard to see beyond the sill. Clinging to the bricks with one hand, Janco shielded his eyes until they adjusted to the dimness. The room had a few pieces of office furniture, but was otherwise empty.

After a few minutes, he pushed on the window, testing it. The pane slid up without trouble. Rookie mistake, thinking you were safe on the upper levels of a building. No floor was unreachable. All a thief had to do was climb up or use a rope to climb down.

Janco eased into the room. Puffs of dust tickled his nose and he held in a sneeze. Memories of another sneeze that had revealed his and Ari’s hiding spot rose unbidden. He’d never seen Ari so angry. No, wait. There was that other time... His eyes watered as laughter threatened to bubble up his throat. He sucked in a deep breath and focused on the task at hand.

After a quick scan of the abandoned room, he put his boots back on, then grasped the door’s knob and slowly twisted. The metal creaked. He paused and listened. Nothing. When the latch cleared the jam, he pulled the door open an inch. Beyond the room was a walkway with a half wall on the opposite side, and past that, thick chains hung from pulleys attached to the ceiling.

No voices echoed or footsteps neared, so he poked his head out and glanced to the left. A few more doors led out to the walkway before it ended. To the right, two more offices and then metal stairs. Lantern light from below flickered on the walls. He ventured onto the walkway and peered over the half wall. Stacks of crates lined the space downstairs. A few had been opened and their contents filled tables along the back wall. As he waited, no one appeared. All remained quiet.

Janco then checked the rooms to the left. All had a thick coat of dust and matched the room he’d entered. The same with the first of the two on the right. However, the door to the office closest to the stairs was locked. Kneeling next to it, he pulled his diamond pick and tension wrench from his pocket and popped the lock in seconds.

He slipped inside and closed the door. The dirty window let in enough sunlight to illuminate the desk, chairs, filing cabinet and liquor cabinet. No dust scratched his throat and an area rug covered the floor. Nice. Invoices, inventory lists and billing receipts littered the desk. Janco scanned them, but nothing illegal was on the list of goods. No surprise.

Checking the drawers and then the filing cabinet, Janco didn’t find anything incriminating. Too bad. He searched for a safe. None in this room. Janco read the labels on the whiskey bottles in the cabinet. Expensive. The man had good taste. He left the office, relocked the door and paused. No sounds from below.

Janco crept down the metal stairs. They creaked with his weight. He then explored the warehouse. Crates stacked three high didn’t have any writing or labels on them. The big loading doors had been bolted shut. Wagon-wheel marks on the floor indicated where the four-foot-tall crates must be loaded and unloaded onto wagons by using those chains and pulleys. He found the back door with the shiny new lock. Other than that, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

Time to check the merchandise. Peering into one of the opened crates, Janco saw bolts of Sitian silk. Another crate held small burlap bags filled with coffee beans. The boxes on the table, however, held a dozen Greenblade cigars. Made from dried honey-tree sap, kellpi weeds and crushed abacca leaves all grown in the Greenblade forest, the cigars caused quite a buzz and seemed to be very addictive. The Commander had banned them as soon as it became obvious they weren’t your ordinary cigar.

Janco searched the other open crates, but he couldn’t find any more cigars. Perhaps there were more in one of the unopened crates. He stared at a stack and again absently scratched at the place where the bottom half of his right ear used to be. Why fill a crate and risk it being opened and discovered by the border guards? Unless...

He returned to the one with bags of coffee and dug down until he reached the bottom. Nothing. Unless...

Measuring with his arm, he estimated how deep it was inside the crate. Then he straightened and compared it to the height of the box. Bingo! False bottom. Small enough to miss and big enough to fit those boxes of Avibian cigars. Janco suppressed the desire to dance a jig. He’d wait until he hooked up with Ari at the Black Cat.

A metallic snap cut through Janco’s elation. Oh no. He dived behind a stack of crates as the back door opened. Strident voices quarreled. Janco counted. Two, three, four, five in all. Maybe they’d be so engrossed in their argument they wouldn’t notice him sneaking out. Or maybe they’d all go up to the office and shut the door. And maybe Valek’d assign him to spend a season tanning on the beach. That would be just as likely as the other two.

Janco slid into a more comfortable position. He might be here awhile.

“...it doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” one voice yelled over the others. “Spread out and find him. He has to be here somewhere.”

Then again, he might not.

8

YELENA

“I smell like death?” I asked Leif, trying to keep my panic from my voice. “Whose death? Mine? Yours?”

He tapped his chest and crinkled his nose. “No one’s. I just...” Leif waved his arms as if trying to pull in the right word. “It’s similar to death. It’s a...loss. Something is missing. And there’s strong grief, as if someone close to you has died.”

Oh. That explained it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

Guess he hadn’t talked to Mara yet. I glanced around at the training yard. A few students still lingered and a couple kept practicing. Some magicians had the ability to listen from a distance.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that dire. I’ll tell you when I tell Fisk,” I said.

“Fisk?”

“Yes, I need both of your help and it’d be easier if I only have to explain everything once. Do you have time now?”

Leif looked at the glass workshop with a wistful expression.

“Mara knows.”

He turned to me in surprise. “She does?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

Not the reaction I’d expected. I’d figured he’d be put out because I told Mara first.

“I’m not that childish,” he said, correctly reading my look.

I waited.

“At least not this time. I’m glad you confided in Mara. She always feels left out. She doesn’t ever say it aloud or complain, but I can smell the disappointment.”

“Must be tough.”

“It is, but I’ve a duty to Sitia, and discretion is a big part of it. You should know all about that. I’m sure you can’t tell Valek everything. Right?”

“If I said no, would you have me arrested for treason?”

“No.”

“Nice to know you trust me.”

He pished. “Trust has nothing to do with it. It’d upset Mara and that would upset Mara’s mother and then I’d be cut off from the best food in Sitia.”

“Ah, food trumps treason.”

Leif laughed. “Every time.” Then he sobered. “I need to tell Mara where I’m going and to take a quick bath. How about I meet you at the gate in fifteen minutes?”

I sniffed and crinkled my nose. “Make it thirty.”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned before heading toward the bathhouse.

I grabbed my cloak. Since I had the time, I stopped by Irys’s office on my way to the gate. She called me in before I could knock. Her office was similar in size to Bain’s, but much neater and not as many books.

A red-tailed hawk sat on a perch by the window. He squawked at me in greeting.

“Hello, Odwin. Who’s the handsome fellow?”

The hawk flexed his wings, showing off.

“That’s right, you are.” I stroked his head.

“Don’t encourage him. His ego is big enough,” Irys said.

“Any news?” I asked.

Irys pushed a strand of black hair from her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “I reviewed the logbooks for the past two weeks, and Quinn hasn’t left the Keep. I also talked to him between classes. He said he can’t draw magic into the glass. Opal tried to teach him to use the empty glass orbs like she did when siphoning magic, but he couldn’t. So far, all he’s able to do is make his magic stick to the glass.”

“Are you sure he was telling the truth? Maybe Leif—”

“I think I can spot a lie by now, Yelena.”

“Sorry.” More good/bad news.

“I’m glad he’s not involved. And you should be, too. Quinn’s a valuable asset.”

“I know. I’m being...overly emotional.” I huffed. “Do you know at one time I wished I didn’t have any magic?”

“I’m sure you did. I did, too. We all have. Ask any magician and she will be able to tell you exactly when she wished to be ordinary.”

Ordinary. Could I get used to the idea of being ordinary?

“Oh no. Cut that out,” Irys admonished. “You will never be ordinary. Don’t worry, Yelena. We’ll find out what happened to you.”

* * *

“The market closes for supper time. Fisk will probably be at his guild’s headquarters,” Leif said when he joined me at the gate.

“Is he still at—”

“No. He found a more secure location.” Leif glanced around and then lowered his voice. “It’s in one of the outer southern rings.”

We headed west from the Keep’s entrance.

“Let’s take the scenic route,” Leif suggested.

Ah. Leif wanted to ensure no one followed us.

As we entered the central business district, Leif cut through a couple of alleys and zigzagged through the streets. The sunlight disappeared behind the Citadel’s walls and the lamplighters began their nightly ritual.

“Is Fisk still having trouble with that rival gang?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re bold and have been trying to put him out of business. Fisk keeps telling me he’s taking care of it, but I’ve heard many shoppers grumbling at the market stalls. Those interlopers cheat, steal and bribe merchants to give them better prices than they give Fisk’s members.”

A few people hurried past us. Probably heading home for supper. The majority of the Citadel’s citizens lived in the northwest and southwest quadrants. However, a number of warehouses had been converted into apartments, which the Keep and government workers had snapped up along with a few business owners who wished to be close to their factories.

“What a shame. That rival gang could have joined his guild and all worked together.” Why couldn’t they just leave Fisk alone and let his guild operate in peace? Was it jealousy? Greed? Spite? Hate? Probably a combination of all of them.

“I think Fisk is in over his head on this one. Maybe I could ask my brother-in-law for a little favor.”

“How can Mara’s brother, Ahir, help?” I asked.

“Not Ahir—Valek.”

“Valek isn’t your brother-in-law.”

“Why not? You’ve been together for... What? Eight million years. And he’s, like...eighty by now.”

I punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He rubbed his biceps. “Oh, I see. He hasn’t asked you. No wonder you’re sensitive.”

“Leif,” I warned.

He ignored it. “Yes?”

I pressed my fists to my legs. “We’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Rescuing a kidnapped brother, for one.” I gave him a pointed look.

“Uh-huh. Too busy to get married. That’s a new one. Does that mean he asked—”

“Drop it.”

“Wish I could,” he muttered.

And then I understood. “Who put you up to this? Mother?”

He ducked his head. “She just wants you to be happy.”

“And why in the world would she think I’d be happier if I was married? If anything, it would make it harder to be apart from Valek.”

“Maybe she sees how happy I am and wishes the same for you.”

Oh.

“And I’ve been picking up quite a range of emotions from you, sister dear. You’re never this easy to read.” He turned to me as if he’d just figured it out.

“Wait,” I said. “We’ll discuss it with Fisk.”

By the time Leif was satisfied no one had followed us, we had looped around to the south side of the market. Glancing over his shoulder, he slipped into a narrow alley. I stayed close to him and kept my hand near the hilt of my switchblade. The alley dead-ended.

“Are you lost?” I joked.

Instead of a sarcastic retort, he gaped at me, horrified. Without thought, I yanked my weapon and triggered the blade, turning.

“No one is there, Yelena,” Leif said in a tight voice. “You just confirmed what I thought was impossible.”

I faced him. He had discovered I no longer had magic. It hadn’t taken him long. Once again, Irys’s advice about lying low rose in my mind. Smart woman. Perhaps I should listen to her.

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