The man backed away to the place Leif had indicated. Leif drew in a breath and studied the horse’s body language. A wildness shone in its eyes as its sides heaved. Foamy sweat dripped from its body and it blew air from its nostrils. One of the wooden supports of the wagon had snapped in half, but the horse remained tethered. Crates littered the ground behind the overturned wagon.

Leif inched closer, keeping in the horse’s line of sight. He projected calming emotions, not sure if it’d work on a horse, but figured it couldn’t hurt. Talking to the horse in a steady voice, he approached. The horse shook, but didn’t rear. Leif kept his soothing tone and reached for the reins. He grasped them in his left hand. Then he stroked the horse’s nose and kept talking.

When the horse’s sides slowed and it no longer arched its neck, Leif said to the man, “Move slowly and come take the reins.”

The man followed his directions. Keeping his hands on the horse, Leif slid them back to the hitch.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” asked a little girl.

“Just wait, sweet pea. We need to free Doggie.”

Doggie? Leif glanced at the man.

“We let the kids name him,” he explained.

Better than Beach Bunny. Leif unhitched the wagon while keeping contact with the horse so it wouldn’t spook again. Then he removed the harness. It was slow and tedious work, but eventually, he freed Doggie. Leif led the horse to a nearby tree, then covered Doggie with his cloak to keep him warm until they could walk him to cool off. He returned to help the man free his children.

They lifted the broken wooden bed and four figures scrambled out as they righted the wagon.

Leif turned. “Is everyone all right? I’ve bandages and...” The kids were much taller than he’d expected, and the father pointed a loaded crossbow at Leif’s chest. Unease swirled into alarm.

Stupid.

“And?” the armed man prompted.

“And I just aided in my own ambush. Didn’t I?” Idiotic.

“You’re quick. It took that Hale fellow ages to understand.”

They have Hale? Why didn’t Irys tell me? He swallowed his fear and concentrated on the five assembled before him. No emotions emanated except from the “father.” The others must be wearing null shields. “Why go to all this trouble? You outnumber me.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, if you caught a whiff of an ambush, you’d have been long gone.”

If it’s fun you want...let’s see how fun it is when your clothes are on fire. Leif concentrated.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Frent.”

A puff sounded right before a prick of pain burned on Leif’s neck. He yanked the dart from his skin, but knew it was too late. “Rusalka, go home!”

She galloped by as the woods spun around him. Sinking to his knees, his last thought before the darkness rushed in was of Mara. Their reunion would have to wait. He hoped.

19

YELENA

Five steps. Turn. Five more steps. Turn. I paced along the twenty-seven iron bars of my cell. Even though I had used all my skills as the Liaison and convinced the Sitian Council I hadn’t been involved in espionage, treason or conspiring with the enemy, they still required my brother’s testimony in order to release us.

Five days. We’d been locked in here for one, two, three, four, five and turn, days. Leif had better hurry.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the soles of your boots,” Ari said.

I glared at him. He’d taken a philosophical view of the entire endeavor, using the time to rest. He’d claimed we’d need our energy for our eventual escape, which we’d already planned in detail so we could bolt at a moment’s notice. Of course it helped his calm attitude that Irys had smuggled in a couple of swords for him and Janco, just in case The Mosquito tried to take advantage of my incarceration.

“Yeah, better to do something constructive with your time,” Janco said.

Janco exercised by grasping the highest crossbar with both hands and pulling his body up off the floor. He’d taken his shirt off, exposing long, lean muscles rippling with the effort. Scars crisscrossing his back, arms and chest resembled a street map of a dense city. And he’d named each scar in remembrance of where and when he’d sustained the injury. The healed gash on his stomach and the matching mark on his back, he’d named “Yelena,” for the time he’d been run through with a sword and almost died. Janco swore I’d healed him.

“Pacing is also a form of burning off excess energy,” I said to Janco.

“I’m not burning. I’m keeping in shape. While Ari’s muscles turn to fat, mine will remain strong and ready for action.”

Ari shot to his feet. “I’ll show you ready for action.” He reached through the bars and clamped his huge hands around Janco’s narrow waist. With one yank, Ari pulled Janco off the bars and held him suspended over the floor.

Janco sputtered and tried to break his partner’s hold. Tried being the key word. Without warning, Ari released him. Janco landed with an oomph. He recovered, but before he could squawk in protest, a clang echoed.

We turned to the main entrance of the jail. Irys strode in with two guards on her heels. One glance at her pale face and her fingers fretting at her sleeves, and I braced for bad news.

“Unlock the doors, now,” Irys ordered the guards.

They moved to obey, starting with Janco’s.

Perhaps bad was an understatement. I gripped the bars. “What happened?”