“I agree it’s dangerous. I didn’t want them involved in your rescue, but they refused to lie low. Even with the Cartel rounding them up, they still gathered intel.”

“Are you saying that even if I order them to stay uninvolved, they’ll ignore me?”

“Yes.” I patted his arm. “You did a good job raising them.”

He huffed.

A few more members arrived by dawn. Fisk refused to go to sleep, even though I promised to man the door. Instead, he dozed on the couch.

Phelan showed up in the morning. Mud coated his pants, and rips marked his sleeves. “I picked up a tail and couldn’t shake him. Tenacious bastard. I hid in the briars for a few hours until he gave up.”

“Is anyone else coming?” Fisk asked him.

“How many have arrived so far?”

“You make thirteen,” Fisk said.

“That’s everyone.”

A sad relief shone on Fisk’s face, but the comment sliced through me. Onora was still missing. I didn’t panic right away. Knowing her, she was probably waiting for everyone to be safe inside before joining us. But just to be sure, I asked Phelan if he’d seen her.

“No.”

“She told me she was staying in the Citadel,” Fisk said.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.

“I thought you knew. She made it sound like it was part of the plan.”

A sick dread swirled in my stomach. “What did she say?”

“That she needed to stay behind and keep an eye on Bruns.”

Oh, no. She planned to assassinate Bruns.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep. I paced around the living area while Fisk and his guild slept. The midafternoon sun painted a sheen of brightness on the trees and grasses. Yet to me, the colors resembled mud.

Onora and Valek remained in the Citadel. Perhaps they would team up and Valek would kill Bruns to save Onora from doing it. But what should I do? Should I assume they wouldn’t reveal our plans to the Cartel and proceed as arranged, or should I change everything? There were forty-five days left in the heating season. I needed to be at the Greenblade garrison before the start of the hot season.

Kiki whinnied. I froze for a moment. She repeated the sound. Distressed, and definitely trying to get my attention, I yanked my switchblade and triggered the blade. Peering through the windows, I studied the land between the house and stables. Nothing. Kiki jumped the stall door and ran to the house.

I bolted outside. “What’s wrong?”

She spun and returned to the stables. I followed her. Onyx thumped at the walls. Was he injured? Perhaps one of the splinters from the gate had struck him and festered. I ducked inside and stopped. Valek slumped over a bale of hay. A knife jutted from his back.

An ice-cold lance of fear shot right through me, pinning me in place. He looked...

Dead.

Racing to his side, I paused. His magic might be able to heal him, but not if I touched him. I crouched next to him and called his name. His eyelids fluttered, as if he needed every ounce of energy to open his eyes, but he didn’t wake.

Alive. For now.

I ran into the house and woke Fisk and Phelan. They carried Valek into the house and lay him on his stomach in the master bedroom downstairs. Valek moaned.

“Should we pull the knife out?” Fisk asked.

“No. He might bleed to death if it pierced his heart.” My thoughts jumbled into a swirl of panic. No healer. No magic. No way he’d live without one or both.

“One of us could fetch a healer from... Where’s the closest town?” Phelan asked.

“No time,” I said. The words repeated in my mind. No time. No healer. No magic. Think! There was magic in the Avibian Plains, but could Valek access it? No. Kiki had magic. Who else had magic? No one. What else?

Holy snow cats! I sprinted to the stables and into the tack room. Valek’s saddle and bags rested on a pile of straw bales. I yanked open the pouch and dug deep, flinging items left and right. It was down deep at the bottom, rolled in one of his tunics. Racing back to house, I dashed into Valek’s room, gasping for breath.

Fisk and Phelan hovered near him.

“What’s that?” Phelan asked.

Wrong question. No time to explain.

“What do you need us to do?” Fisk asked.

Right question.

I handed the bundle to Fisk. “Unwrap it.” Then I instructed Phelan to move Valek’s arms until his hands were over Valek’s head. Pointing to the knife, I said, “Phelan, when I say three, you yank the knife free in one quick motion.”

With an “ah” of understanding, Fisk dropped Valek’s tunic on the bed.

I picked it up and folded into a square. “Press this to the wound right after you remove the knife,” I instructed Phelan.

When he gave me an odd look, Fisk said, “She can’t touch him.”

“You know what to do?” I asked Fisk.

“Yes.”

“Be quick.”

“I know.”

“On three. One. Two. Three.”

Phelan yanked. Valek jerked awake, gasping in pain. Fisk thrust the glass super messenger into Valek’s hands while Phelan staunched the wound.

It was a gamble. A long shot. If Valek wasn’t conscious enough to tap into the magic stored inside... I hovered nearby, completely useless.

Fisk pressed Valek’s hands to the glass. Valek’s head dropped back onto the mattress. His eyes drifted shut.

23

VALEK