“He’ll be fine.” Valek hoped. By the collection of bruises and cuts on both men’s faces, Valek guessed they had resisted.

The clip-clop of hooves and the jingle of the harness announced the wagon’s approach. To Valek, a shrill alarm would have been quieter.

“What’s next?” Reema asked.

“I need help getting them into the bags.”

“Right.” Reema dashed off, and soon the stand-in guards and five rats poured into the building. Draping null shields around Leif’s and Devlen’s necks, the kids wasted no time manhandling the two unconscious men into the burlap bags and loading them onto the wagon with a number of genuine garbage bags.

By the time they finished, the sun threatened to rise. Within minutes, there would be more soldiers up and moving about the garrison.

“Go. Disappear,” Reema said to the stand-ins and Valek’s doppelganger. They scattered in a heartbeat.

Valek gave her the pendant before she jumped into the wagon and hid in another burlap bag. Valek arranged them so the collection looked like a pile of garbage. He vaulted onto the driver’s seat and headed to the gate. Halfway there, he remembered he wore a Sitian uniform rather than his delivery man coveralls. And blood soaked his left sleeve and back.

Valek stopped the horses. He hopped down and, while trying to appear as if he was arranging the bags, he opened Devlen’s sack and yanked the man’s shirt off.

Glancing around, he noted a few soldiers, but none seemed to be paying attention to him. Valek changed and stashed the torn and bloody uniform shirt under the bags, then closed Devlen’s bag.

The sun rose in a burst of color and light. Valek climbed onto the wagon and resumed the journey to the gate. Sweat stung his cuts, and he knew blood would soon stain the green tunic. It felt as if a river of red gushed down his back. Plus his heart seemed determined to pump extra-hard.

The guard didn’t move the gate as he had the last few days. Instead, he stood in front of it. Valek kept a neutral expression.

“Took you long enough,” the guard said.

“I dropped a damn crate.” Valek shook his head as if in exasperation. “Damn apples spilled all over. And then the cook harassed me, yelling that he won’t pay for the damaged ones, so I had to count the number that were bruised and write a note.”

“Sucks for you.”

“Yup. And it’s comin’ out of my pay, too.” Valek spat.

The guard did a loop around the wagon. Then he peered underneath. When he pulled his sword, Valek’s heart skipped a beat.

Before he could stab the sword into one of the bags, Valek said, “Hey, can you please not cut into them so deep? Last time one of the damn bags ripped in half when I picked it up. I had a stinkin’ mess to clean up, and I stank of rotten fish all day. And I’m already late for my next delivery.”

The guard chuckled and sheathed his sword. “Some days are like that.” He moved the gate for Valek. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Valek said as the horses crossed through. His back burned as if an archer aimed a crossbow at him, and the feeling didn’t dissipate until they were far from the guards’ sight. Increasing the horses’ pace, Valek guided the wagon to the old warehouse they had rented. It was empty except for Rusalka. She had turned up in a stall next to Onyx one morning, and he’d moved her here as they prepared for the rescue.

“We’re here,” he said.

Reema squirmed from her bag, jumped down and opened the loading bay door. He drove the wagon inside, and they closed and locked the door behind him. Only then did he allow himself to relax.

He expected Reema to be happy. Instead she frowned at the wagon. Her hands fisted on her hips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“We got away too easy.”

Easy? Not according to his burning cuts. But Valek considered. “No one followed us.”

“Are you sure? I think—”

“I know how to spot a tail.”

“Even one covered by magic?” She rubbed her face with both hands as if suddenly tired. “Ah, I forgot. You’re immune and would see right through an illusion.” Then she shot him a shrewd look. “But you needed my null shield pendant during the rescue. Why?”

Valek admired her intelligence. Her brother might be the next master-level magician, but she was well on her way to master-level spy. Deciding to trust her, he told her about his new abilities, although he knew that she’d be safer if she didn’t know. Plus limiting the amount of people who knew about his magic was a logical strategy, but Leif might have been forced to divulge the information to the Cartel while a prisoner. In that case, all bets were off.

When he finished explaining, she slapped her hand on her thigh. “I thought something was off with you! When we were in the garrison, you didn’t spark, but I didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Spark?”

“Yeah, I see a glow when magic hits a null shield.”

Interesting. “Useful.”

She shrugged. “Only lets me know who is wearing a null shield. It doesn’t really help me.”

“But it might help Teegan or Leif or even me.”

Reema perked up. “Sweet. Do you like having magic, or do you miss your immunity?”

“Right now I prefer the magic, as I was too easy to capture when I was immune.”

“Yeah, I guess my mom has to worry about that, as well.” She sobered and climbed onto the wagon to pull back the burlap bags, uncovering her father and uncle.