I had to find Piaras.

Piaras’s last name was Rivalin, not Benares, and we weren’t related by anyone, anywhere; but I loved the kid like a little brother, so in my book, that made him family.

Family that I knew was near the top of Sarad Nukpana’s kill list.

Piaras needed to know it and I needed to assure myself that he was safe.

I was two steps away from the bed when I remembered that the Reapers had shredded the hell out of my clothes. Damn. Well, I’d help myself to Mychael’s wardrobe. I just needed to get out of here, not make a fashion statement.

Then I spotted a familiar duffel bag leaning against his desk, and the shoulder harness holding my brace of swords was hooked over the back of Mychael’s chair. I grinned. If Mychael had wanted to keep me here, he’d just made a grave tactical error. For the past two weeks, I had been staying on the Fortune, so Phaelan must have sent along a few things, and Mychael had left them for me. An intricate knot tied the canvas bag closed. Definitely Phaelan’s work. He did it to let me know that he’d packed my bag himself, and that the knot was still intact told me Mychael hadn’t gone snooping. Good. If there was one thing my cousin knew how to do, it was pack for a quick getaway—or a jailbreak. No doubt everything I needed to get out of Mychael’s bedroom, his apartment, and the citadel was in that bag. Phaelan liked to be thorough.

I opened the bag. My set of midnight blue leathers was on top: boots, trousers, and doublet. Two shirts were below that, and then the contents got fun: various small and easily concealable weapons, lock picks, and even a small grappling hook and rope. He tossed in the latter I guess in case I felt the need to go over the wall.

I left the grappling hook but took everything else. I had no intention of going over the wall. Piaras was a Guardian cadet; he was in the citadel.

But before I could step one foot into the hallway, I had to negotiate my release with the Guardian on duty at the door.

I knew that would be Vegard.

When I was dressed and armed to my satisfaction, I went to the door and tried the knob. Surprisingly it was unlocked. I opened the door. Not surprisingly, the space on the other side was filled with a big, blond, overprotective Guardian.

“Afternoon, Vegard.”

My bodyguard nodded once. “Ma’am. Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

I glanced down the hall. There were two burly Guardians at the other end. Not an easy escape scenario, but I could get past them if necessary.

I knew the drill. Mychael had ordered Vegard to keep me here. When confronted with familiar tactics, go with the direct approach. If that didn’t work, then I’d come up with something sneaky.

“I’m plenty rested,” I told him. “Where’s Piaras?”

“It’s two bells; he’s finished his morning lessons, so he should be in the gym.” Vegard looked at me with a combination of concern and guilt, but mostly guilt. I knew he felt responsible for what had happened to me. When would everyone accept that my own trouble was my own fault?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Really.”

His expression was carefully neutral. “I’m glad to hear that, ma’am.”

“Vegard?”

“Ma’am?”

“What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. Yes, you’re my bodyguard, but I’m a big girl with a mind of my own . . . a stubborn mind of my own.”

At least that made him smile a little. “Yes, ma’am, you are. You’re also my responsibility, and—”

“Vegard, I—”

“Ma’am, please let me finish.”

I shut up. Yes, it’s possible.

Vegard’s pale blue eyes were steady. “If you had been killed, I would have never forgiven myself. It’s my job to keep you not only alive, but safe. It’s become more than my job.” He clenched his jaw and looked away, but not before I saw a faint glisten in his eyes.

Way to go, Raine. You’re about to make a grown Guardian cry. Maybe I should have taken the grappling hook and gone out the window.

“If someone kills you, they might as well cut a big chunk out of me while they’re at it.” His words came in a rush. “Or hell, just finish me off. I don’t have a sister, but I’d like to think if I did, she’d be like you.”

Oh great, now I was going to cry.

I laid my hand on his forearm. “Okay, Vegard, I’ll make you a deal. At least I’ll try really hard. I can try to stay away from trouble, but trouble’s not going to stay away from me.”

“I know.”

“Actually, trouble’s chasing me right now, a lot of it. Hell, there’s a line.”

“I know that, too. But ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“All I ask is that you let me be at your side when it catches up to you.”

I squeezed his arm and bit my lip against my own case of the misties. Vegard gently covered my hand with his huge paw.

“Deal,” I managed. “If it’s in my control, you’ll be with me. We’ll get slaughtered together.”

He grinned. “A man can’t ask for more than that.”

“Now, which way is the gym?”

The grim Guardian was back in spades. “Oh no, you don’t, ma’am. The boss told me you weren’t supposed to leave this room until he came back.”

“Where is he?”

“Meeting with the archmagus.”

“And when will he be back?”

“Since it’s with the old man there’s no telling.”

“That’s what I thought. Vegard, the gym is in the citadel. Mychael has deemed the citadel safe for me. Isn’t the gym filled with Guardians working out with weapons?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He knew his argument was crumbling faster than a Nebian trader’s morals.

“Then how much safer could I be? I need to talk to Piaras. I’m not the only one in danger.”

The big Guardian sighed in defeat. “Follow me, ma’am.”

I smiled up at him and linked my arm in his. “How about at my side?”

Piaras was a Conclave Guardian cadet. He’d go from cadet to squire, and eventually be knighted as a full Guardian. And from the way he was going, the kid would probably set a speed record for achieving knighthood.

Before the Guardians accepted a young man into the brotherhood for training, they assessed his skills—both martial and magical. They had to have both. When it came to future Guardians, those skills covered a lot of unusual ground.

Piaras Rivalin was a spellsinger, possibly the best of his generation. He’d also apprenticed with his grandmother as an apothecary. Tarsilia had taught him more than mixing poultices. The kid knew the nastier blends—potions, drugs, poisons, and the antidotes to them all. An elven teenager probably wouldn’t need to whip up an antidote on a moment’s notice, but a Guardian just might. And last, but definitely not least, due to being under Sarad Nukpana’s psychic influence a few weeks ago, Piaras also had the full measure of the goblin’s deadly skill with a sword.

Like I said, the kid was on the Guardian fast track.

The Guardian’s gym smelled like sweat and worn leather and steel with the coppery tang of blood thrown in for good measure. It was also hot and noisy.

Piaras was in a fighting ring with a Guardian trainer and looked like he was having the time of his young life.

Piaras had come to apprentice with Tarsilia Rivalin when he was eight years old. Phaelan and I had decided that it just wasn’t right for a kid to spend his days only learning about a bunch of dried plants. Not that that wasn’t a good thing to know, but we felt he needed to know more, especially if he was going to live in Mermeia and, most important, stay alive in Mermeia. Tarsilia agreed. I taught him defense and evasion, and Phaelan took care of offense and confrontation—and we didn’t teach him to fight fair. Piaras was tall and lanky, so if anyone came after him with deadly intentions, the kid better be able to make his first move count or run like hell. I’d made sure he knew that there’s no shame in running, only in being caught.

Considering what had happened to Piaras in the past two months just as a result of knowing me and getting tangled up in my problems, I was all for the Guardians furthering his education in every way possible.

And becoming a Conclave Guardian was the fulfillment of Piaras’s lifelong dream. He couldn’t see himself behind an apothecary counter or singing magical lullabies for some noble’s bratty children. As a Guardian, he felt he could make a difference.

Piaras wasn’t singing right now. He was fighting, the hand-to-hand variety. At eighteen years old, Piaras was plenty tall, but he had some filling out to do.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Vegard.

“There are a few rough spots.” He shrugged. “But we all have our strong points, and our not-so-strong points. Piaras’s should solve themselves once he gets some more weight on him. He’s quick; he’s got that going for him.” He flashed a grin. “If you have to be scrawny, at least be fast.”

I smiled. “Is he eating the Guardians out of house and home?”

Vegard chuckled. “He’s trying, but we haven’t had a cadet succeed yet.”

Piaras spotted me and took his attention off his trainer for a blink of an eye. That was all the time it took for the man to administer an object lesson Piaras wouldn’t soon forget. I winced. One second Piaras was on his feet; the next he was on the mat, flat on his back.

Vegard whistled. “That one’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

Piaras was slowly picking himself up as we walked over to the ring.

“That was my fault, darlin’,” I told Piaras. “Sorry about that.”

“It was his eyes’ fault for wandering,” the trainer said.

Piaras finished hauling himself to his feet with no help. Made sense. Your enemy sure as hell wasn’t going to help you up on a battlefield or in a back alley.

His trainer spoke without turning to look at him. “Distractions are deadly, Cadet Rivalin.”