Night Study (12 page)

“Yes, sir.” Fear pierced Valek’s anger and humiliation. He had to warn Yelena.

“Good. Anything else?”

“Who hired Onora to kill you, sir?”

“It’s under investigation.”

Meaning, Onora hadn’t been able to learn the client’s name from Hedda. Which explained why she killed the teacher. “Your orders regarding Onora?”

“No change. She’s to continue being your apprentice.”

“Will she follow my orders?”

“As long as you clear them with me first. We will meet here at dawn every morning and again right after supper to discuss your assignments.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Valek left. He gathered the two parts of his shirt together, fisting the fabric in his right hand and pressing it against the bleeding wound on his chest. Pain flared, but his swirling thoughts distracted him. Possible explanations for the Commander’s behavior bubbled. Had Onora’s attack affected him that badly? Or was Owen to blame? No wonder neither Valek nor Janco picked up on magic. No need to hide behind an illusion when you were an invited guest. Valek would have to investigate how much Owen was influencing the Commander, which meant violating another direct order and further ruining their relationship.

Confusion warred with anger, which flipped to fear and then to outrage. Valek no longer knew what to think, to believe, to do. He’d always known what action to take, but not now. Too much had happened.

One thing stayed consistent. Yelena. He needed to protect her, to send her to safety, to ensure that she understood that his loyalties were no longer divided.

Valek arrived at his suite without any memory of the trip. Yelena sat at the table. She’d cleared a section off so she could eat her breakfast. Her forkful of sweet cakes paused in midair when she spotted him.

She dropped it. The metal clattered on the plate. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He strode over and knelt next to her. “The Commander has reminded me of my pledge to serve him.” Opening his fist, he let his shirt hang open.

Yelena gasped and reached to touch him. “What—”

Valek grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Please, just listen. I’ve no idea what’s going on with him, but I do know that you’re the one who owns my heart and soul. And this—” he gestured to the C-shaped cut “—is not going to be a symbol of my loyalty to the Commander anymore. It’s...” Drawing his knife, Valek cut a backward C shape into his skin right next to the other, linking them so they resembled a heart. “It’s a symbol of my love, my loyalty, my respect, my trust and my commitment to you and
only
you. Yelena, will you marry me?”

9

LEIF

T
he air thickened with heat and smoke. Leif squinted through the flames that surrounded them, seeking a way to escape the barn as the fire’s roar pounded in his ears and his heart thudded in his chest.

“...your fire magic?” Devlen’s face shone with sweat.

“I can only start fires, not stop them.” Leif coughed into his sleeve.

“Any ideas?”

“Window.” Leif bent low and raced to the nearest one.

The wooden frame burned scorching hot, but the glass behind the flames remained intact. Shielding his face with his arm, Leif kicked the window. A loud
crack
juddered through the sole of his boot. He kicked again. This time the glass broke, and he used his heel to clear the shards.

“Pants,” Devlen yelled.

Leif glanced down. An old childhood taunt played in his mind.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Guess he was a liar. He almost laughed. Except a snapping and groaning noise shook the rafters. The roof. Fear pierced his inertia.

“Let’s go,” he yelled, diving through the flames dancing in the window. Leif slammed into the ground. The force knocked the wind from him, but he rolled to the side to clear the way for Devlen. He kept spinning to snuff out the fire clinging to his clothes as he gasped for air.

A thud and a curse sounded to his left. Devlen also spun on the ground to extinguish his tunic. Another warning screech reverberated.

“Run!” Leif scrambled to his feet and dashed away.

Devlen followed. They raced from the burning structure as its roof collapsed. A red-hot whoosh of air pushed them forward. Embers and sharp bits of flying debris pelted their backs. Leif stumbled. Devlen grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.

They continued for another fifty feet before collapsing onto the grass. Leif checked his body for flames while his brother-in-law did the same.

“What...the hell...happened?” Devlen panted.

“Booby trap.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” He drew in a breath. “Owen knew we’d investigate his glass houses. That stack of files was just too tempting. As soon as I opened the top one, it triggered the trap. Bastard left a note, too.”

“What did it say?”

“Gotcha.”

* * *

The horses arrived soon after their narrow escape. They cataloged their injuries. Leif mixed up a poultice for their burns. He bandaged the jagged cuts on his leg from the window’s glass and removed the splinters from Devlen’s back. Draining half his water skin, Leif wiped his mouth with a soot-covered sleeve.

The burning barn polluted the air with thick black clouds. Yet no one arrived to investigate or to help. Odd.

“Owen must have scared his neighbors away,” Devlen said.

By the time they were ready to leave, the structure resembled a pile of scorched lumber. Heat rippled the air above it and an angry orange-red glowed deep inside. Without a water source nearby, they couldn’t douse it. Instead, they rode to the nearest town and contacted the authorities.

Once they explained what had happened, they checked into a local inn. After a bath and a large meal, Leif dragged his battered body up to their room. He stretched out on the bed. Devlen plopped onto the other one. The springs squealed under his weight.

Pain pulsed from Leif’s right leg despite the healing ointment. His raw skin oozed and his throat burned. He felt like a pig who’d been tied to a spit and roasted over a fire. Leif would never eat pork again. Well... At least not for a couple days.

“Are we still going to check those other hothouses?” Devlen asked.

“No. I can’t stop a magical booby trap, and anything could be the trigger.” Leif considered. “I’ll message the locations to Irys tomorrow. Only she or Bain has the power to remove the trap without springing it.”

Disappointment panged. He’d been hoping to discover a clue to Owen’s whereabouts. Now it would be at least half a season before one of the Masters arrived.

“You think Owen had time to rig all ten?”

The magician had a six-day head start. “It’s possible. Best to assume they’re all disasters waiting to happen.” And if Owen had enough time for that, then he probably destroyed anything that would indicate his escape plans. Damn.

“What if one of the locals decides to investigate?”

“We can message the various security forces to keep everyone away until one of the Master Magicians clears it.”

* * *

The next morning, Leif sent Devlen to dispatch the messages to the towns near the glass houses while he communicated with Irys via his super messenger. He tapped into the vast magic stored within the black diamond that had been encased in glass. Using the extra power boost, he connected his thoughts to her thoughts. When she dropped her protective barrier, Leif explained about the booby traps.

I’m not sure when one of us can leave
, Irys said.
The Council is still reeling from the news the Commander may have Curare.

Annoyance colored his thoughts.
He has Curare. It’s not a guess.

I know, but there’s no proof.

Outraged, Leif countered,
We’ve seen the factory and the vines growing. Owen boasted to Yelena that he made a deal with the Commander to produce it. What more do they need?

Evidence, Leif. Not hearsay.

Hearsay? They doubt Yelena’s word?
Anger flared.

Yelena’s been dealing with the loss of her magic and a number of assassination attempts. The Council needs to hear the story directly from her. But she’s gone to Ixia instead. Don’t you see how that compromises her report?

Unfortunately, he understood the Council’s position. They wouldn’t accuse the Commander of anything unless they had verification. And it didn’t help that Ben, Loris and Cilly had been silenced. The knowledge from Owen’s accomplices would have provided plenty of confirmation.

What about the efforts to locate Owen?
he asked.
Have they coordinated with the Moon Clan’s security forces?

They’re not organizing anything. Aside from Yelena, the people who have allegedly seen Owen alive are all Ixian.

So basically, the Sitian Council has done nothing at all.

They’re discussing how to prepare the army if the Commander does indeed have Curare. The first step has already been decided. They agreed that we need to discover a way to mass-produce Theobroma.

Theobroma neutralized Curare, but the substance removed a regular person’s resistance to magic and stripped a magician of all protective barriers. Using Theobroma wouldn’t be a concern if fighting Ixia. No, the problem would be growing enough of the trees whose pods provided the main ingredient. The tree only thrived in the Illiais Jungle and it required three to five years of growth before it produced pods. Maybe they could grow them in those hothouses. But it would still take years to manufacture enough for an army.

Who is working on the Theobroma problem?

Bavol Cacao Zaltana has volunteered.

No surprise. However, Leif wasn’t sure they could trust his clan’s leader anymore. Without anything more substantial than his gut instinct, he couldn’t accuse the man.

What can I do?
he asked instead.

Find proof that Owen is alive and has committed treason, so we can convince the Council to start a manhunt for him.

Easier said than done.
How about Owen’s head on a silver platter?

That will work, too.

I’ll sharpen my machete.

Make sure you treat it with Curare and are extremely careful. Owen’s more powerful than you.

Yelena had worried about that as well, which reminded him.
Have you heard from Yelena?

Not since she left for Ixia. You?

Worry for his sister squeezed his gut.
No.

Let me know if you do.

I will. You, too.

Of course.

Please tell Mara I miss her and hope to be home soon.
A pang of longing vibrated in his chest.
Miss
wasn’t a strong enough word for how he felt.

I will. Keep me posted on your progress.

Yes, sir.

Irys laughed.
You’ve been hanging around those Ixians too long.

* * *

Leif and Devlen arrived at the farmhouse two days after he’d spoken with Irys. A young man sat on the steps, but he jumped to his feet when he spotted them and followed them to the stable. When the man approached, Leif rested his hand on the hilt of his machete.

“Are you Leif Liana Zaltana?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“Finally! This is for you.” The young man shoved a sealed envelope at him then dashed away.

Devlen joined him. “A message?”

“Or another booby trap.” Leif sniffed it, seeking the sender’s intentions. It smelled of impatience and boredom—probably from the messenger. Otherwise, there was no malice or magic.

He ripped it open, read the message and laughed. “It’s a warning to stay away from the glass houses. Seems my sister also triggered a booby trap.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Concern laced Devlen’s voice.

“Cuts only. Nothing serious.” In comparison to her experience, the fire didn’t seem as terrible. Better than razor-sharp glass flying toward your head.

“Does it say anything about locating Owen?”

“They haven’t seen any signs of him.” And he and Devlen had gotten nowhere with their efforts. Damn. Owen could be anywhere by now.

* * *

Devlen decided to return to Fulgor. “Reema is safe in Ixia, and I can tap into my network.”

“You mean your band of ex-cons?” Leif asked.

“I prefer to call them friends. And they are able to provide information that the security officials cannot. Perhaps they will have a clue that will lead us to Owen.”

“It’s worth trying. Plus you haven’t seen Opal in three weeks.”

Devlen grinned. “Returning home after a long absence is always a delight.”

“I hear you, brother.”

A touch of envy swirled in his chest when Devlen left the next day. Leif had been away for thirty-five long days, with no set time for his return. Reuniting with his wife, Mara, was the best part of traveling. She was always more beautiful than he remembered. Kinder, gentler, patient—perfect. She filled all the hollow spots inside him, making him a better, stronger man.

* * *

Esau arrived three days later. There was no mistaking that the man was Leif’s father. They shared the same broad shoulders and stocky yet muscular build. Almost twins, except wrinkles etched tracks across Esau’s forehead and laugh lines sprouted from the corners of his green eyes. His father’s complexion was also a few shades darker—closer to the color of tea without milk.

As soon as Esau dismounted, he crushed Leif in a bear hug. “So where’s this glass house?”

“Don’t you want to freshen up first?” Leif asked.

A film of dirt covered Esau’s clothes. His shoulder-length gray hair hung in greasy layers.

He waved a hand. “There’s time for that later. I’ve spent the last fifteen days just imagining this invention.”

Leif led his father to the glass structure.

Esau exclaimed over the construction as he circled it. “Amazing. Wish I thought of it. The ability to grow the jungle anywhere. Marvelous.” Then he sobered. “Too bad it was used to grow Curare.” He ducked his head. “Wish I never found that blighted vine.”