Only later, with Rusalka headed toward Fulgor, did Leif grudgingly acknowledge Mara’s quick thinking and intelligence. Of the three of them, he had the best chance of coordinating a successful rescue. He had magic, connections and the most experience. It made sense that he’d be the one to escape.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

* * *

Opal’s glass factory appeared to be abandoned. No light shone from any of the windows. The sweet smell of burning white coal didn’t float downwind. No one had entered or left since he’d started surveilling the place around midafternoon. Leif looped around the building one more time, checking for other watchers, and spotted a couple with a view of the front doors. Interesting.

He ducked down the alley and picked the side door’s lock. Inside, he confirmed his suspicions. Dark, quiet and cold—three things he’d never experienced when visiting Opal’s factory previously. The four kilns had always remained blazingly hot, day and night. Heating glass to its melting point took too much time and effort to let the cauldrons cool.

Leif lit a lantern and checked the apartment on the second story. Opal, Devlen and their two adopted children, Reema and Teegan, lived above the factory. A sick feeling swirled in his stomach when he spotted the overturned chairs and broken table in the kitchen. The military must have taken them. With Devlen’s superior fighting skills and Opal’s ability to make magic detectors, they would be an asset to the Cartel. Once they were brainwashed, of course. And even though Opal was immune to magical subversion, she would do anything to keep Reema safe.

Yelena had sent a messenger to Opal weeks ago, warning them of the Sitian takeover, but Leif guessed they didn’t get it in time. Good thing Teegan was currently safe on the coast.

Leaving by the same door he’d entered, Leif headed toward the headquarters for Fulgor’s security. Nic and Eve, two officers and friends of Opal, might be able to help him. But once he arrived, the number of uniformed soldiers coming and going at HQ meant the military had taken control of the local security and would likely arrest Leif on sight. No surprise, as martial law had been declared, but it had still been worth checking. Leif watched the flow in and out for a couple hours, just in case he spotted Nic’s broad shoulders or Eve’s short hair. No luck.

Leif had one last place to go before he ran out of options. Then what?

He pushed down the panic. He’d worry about that later.

The Pig Pen bustled with customers despite the late hour. Leif noted four Sitian soldiers, but he’d altered his appearance as much as he could under the circumstances. It was hard to disguise his square face or his stocky build. No sign of Nic or Eve, and their two stools remained empty. Nic’s twin brother Ian owned the Pen and nobody would dare to sit in Nic’s or his partner’s space. Leif settled on one of the empty stools and waited.

“Those stools are not for you,” the man next to him said. “You better find another place to sit.”

“I like this stool,” Leif said.

“You’re either brave or stupid.”

“I like to think I’m a little of both. It keeps people guessing,” Leif replied. Then he waved at Ian, who was tending the bar. “An order of beef stew and an ale.”

His neighbor laughed and muttered, “This ought to be good.”

Ian didn’t acknowledge Leif’s existence. Didn’t make a move, as far as Leif could tell, but within a minute, four thugs surrounded Leif.

“You’re leaving,” Thug One said.

They grabbed Leif under the arms and carried him to the door. Then they tossed him to the sidewalk. Leif rolled on impact and regained his feet.

“Tell the proprietor that I will no longer frequent his business. He doesn’t get a second chance.”

“Don’t come back, Meat,” Thug Two said.

They remained in front of the entrance. Leif brushed his pants off, glared at the impenetrable wall of muscle, and walked off in a huff. He took a circuitous route to the Second Chance Inn and found a hidden place to keep an eye on the inn’s entrance. He settled in for a long wait.

If Ian hadn’t been influenced by the Cartel, he would relay the message to Nic and Eve that Leif was at the inn. Provided Nic and Eve were also free. If Ian had been converted by the Cartel’s special indoctrination methods, then Leif expected a number of soldiers to storm the inn, looking for him.

When the sun rose in the morning without either scenario developing, Leif realized he’d have to rescue Mara and his father on his own. An almost impossible task.

Leif wandered the city, reviewing his options. He could return to the Citadel and recruit helpers. Or he could turn himself in and offer his cooperation and loyalty in exchange for Mara and Esau’s freedom. The Cartel was run by business people who honored written contracts.

Or he could go in undercover as one of the soldiers. With a null shield around him, he’d be able to avoid detection for a while. Then Leif remembered Fisk already had people undercover in the garrison. If he could just contact one of them—

“Spare a copper, sir?” a street rat asked him, holding out a grubby hand.

“Uh...sure...” Leif fished a silver coin from his pocket and gave it to...her? It was hard to tell under the grime.

“Thank you, sir. I have something for you in return,” she said.

“Oh?” He opened his magical senses, but only the clean scent of honesty reached him.

“A bit of advice. You need to leave Fulgor. Right away.”