“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

The 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.