“Sorry, but this is the first I’ve heard about it.” He set his half-full bowl aside. Fisk had stopped eating during my story. “I can make a few discreet inquiries.”

“That would be great. What about the assassin? Do you know anyone who has those abilities?”

“Not operating out of the Citadel.”

He had answered so fast I asked him if he was sure.

“Unfortunately. Assassins make a point to let my guild members know they are available for hire just in case we get a request. Not that we’d ever help a client hire an assassin, but we keep track just in case.”

“Are you still expanding to other cities?” I asked.

He frowned. “No. That’s on hold until I settle things here.”

“I can help—” Leif tried.

“No.” Fisk sighed at Leif’s hurt puppy-dog look. “Thanks, Leif, but you’re too well-known in the Citadel. I’ve a couple members on the inside and it’s just a matter of time.”

“You’ll let us know if you need anything?” Leif asked.

“Of course.”

Leif turned to me. “You should have told me sooner.”

“I just arrived today.”

He waved away my excuse. “You’re vulnerable and unprotected.”

I drew a breath, but clamped my mouth shut before Leif reminded me about our sparring match.

“I can weave a null shield into your cloak, but that’s a temporary measure. I’ll get you something that will work better.”

“Than a null shield?”

Leif glanced at Fisk. “It’s similar,” he hedged.

Fisk grinned. “The new glass magician can probably make you a glass pendant to wear that will kept a null shield around you at all times.”

Red splotches spread over Leif’s cheeks. “How did you...? Oh, never mind. At least you didn’t hear it from me. Right?”

“Right. You’re a vault.”

I suppressed a smile over Fisk’s word choice. “Then who did you hear it from?”

“Ah, Lovely Yelena, I can’t give away my sources. Otherwise no one would trust me.”

A light tapping sounded. Fisk excused himself and answered the door. “I’ll be right back,” he called as he slipped out.

Leif stood. “Give me your cloak.”

I shrugged it off and handed it to him. He spread it out on the floor. Kneeling next to the cloak, he stroked the fabric with the tips of his fingers, going from the top of the hood down to the hem, then repeating. The glass hands sculpture flashed and flickered as if agitated. Leif turned the cloak over and continued, touching every inch. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. He sat back on his heels when he finished, pulling off his short cape. Lines of strain etched his face and sweat stains peppered his shirt.

Scanning the room, I spotted a pitcher of water and poured Leif a drink. He downed the cool liquid in a couple of gulps. When his strength returned, he lumbered to his feet, bringing my cloak with him.

Leif tossed it at me. “Use it for a blanket until I talk to Quinn. You also need a bodyguard. Perhaps Irys can assign—”

“No bodyguard.”

He set his square jaw and crossed his arms—did they teach this to all the boys at a certain age?

“You’re getting a bodyguard. If not one of the Keep’s guards, then who do you suggest?” His posture dared me to argue.

Since he was so determined... “How about you?”

I’d surprised him, but he recovered within a heartbeat. “I can’t because I’m going to track down the assassin.”

“Leif—”

“Don’t ‘Leif’ me. I have law-enforcement contacts all throughout Sitia. One of them has to have heard about this assassin.”

“And you’re going to travel to every major city in Sitia?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

So sweet and impractical. “It’ll take seasons, Leif. Seasons away from Mara.”

His shoulders drooped a bit.

“Perhaps we should wait until we have an idea of which direction to look. Valek promised to check his sources and send me any information on the assassin he finds.”

Leif relaxed his arms.

“And in the meantime, you could be my bodyguard. Plus it wouldn’t look strange for us to be together so much.”

The stubborn line in his jaw disappeared. I kept my expression neutral. If I gloated, he’d insist on assigning me a big bruiser as a bodyguard.

Fisk returned. Concern creased his face. “I think I know who hired the assassin to attack you, Yelena.”

But that was good news. Why did he look so grim?

“Spit it out, Fisk,” Leif said.

“Ben Moon escaped from Wirral Prison.”

Oh no. I sat on the edge of the couch. “How long ago?”

“Eleven days.”

Not long enough to stage the attack.

“The authorities believe he had help,” Fisk said as if reading my mind.

Leif and I exchanged a glance. We’d had dealings with Ben before. Not only was Ben a powerful magician, but he had inherited notes on magic from his great-great-grandfather, who had been Master Magician Ellis Moon. Perhaps somewhere in those notes was mention of a substance that blocked magic.

“We should inform the Council,” I said.

Fisk’s expression darkened. “They already know.”

“That’s good, right?” Leif asked.