Fire Storm
Author: Ally Shields
Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Urban Fantasy; Vampires; Magic; Paranormal; Romance; Fantasy; Witches; Werewolves; Paranormal Romance; Shapeshifters
Description: Guardian Witch Book 5 Sometimes you just need to stay alive to fight another day. Six months ago Ari moved in with the vampire prince Andreas. They defied the vampire elders in Europe, killed their enforcer, and have waited for retaliation that never came. Until now. On a trip to Italy, Andreas is captured by the vampire rulers, the notorious O-Seven, and taken in chains to their stronghold in Germany. Ari goes after him, even though it’s against the orders of her Magic Council. She is fired for her actions, losing her special Guardian powers at a time she needs them most. But the vampire rule
Publisher: Etopia Press
Rights: Copyright 2015 Ally Shields

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Acclaim for Ally Shields

Look for these titles from Ally Shields

Title Page

Copyright Warning

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

About the Author

Also by Ally Shields

More Fantasy from Etopia Press

Acclaim for Ally Shields

Praise for Cross Keys

“If you like action, romance, elves, and magic you will like this story.”

—Paranormal Romance Guild.

“...you won’t want to stop reading. Shields has created the perfect blend between our realm of the world and the one known as Elvenrude. Her writing is flawless. Her character building is near perfect. She creates a blend between the characters and their scenes that make it near impossible not to believe. I am highly impressed with this book and author.”

—CDyess Writes

“There’s more than enough intrigue and danger, with just the right amount of romance sprinkled in. This is a novel I seriously read in one sitting, it was that good. I am eagerly anticipating the next books in the series, as they are fantastic!”

—Night Owl Reviews

“A great storyline and adventure. You will love this book.”

—5 stars The Book Junkie

Praise for Cross Keys: Revelation

“This was a well-written fast-paced story that has all the elements of love, romance, family, and loyalty to them and friendship, danger and self discovery. A wonderful story that keeps you intrigued to the end.”

—Books Are Love

“Everything flows so well and the plot line and twists kept me turning the pages! I love how nothing comes easy for any character. They all have real life struggles and after that ending, I’m seriously wanting book three! Gimme! 5 MAGICAL PAWS!”

—Happy Tails and Tales

For the Guardian Witch series

“Vampires, werewolves, and witches oh my! In a journey through a magical world...a witch named Arianna will have you lost under her spell.”

—I Heart Books

“Ally had me hooked from the very beginning and, just when I thought things couldn’t get any more intense, she kicked it up a notch! It was one hell of a journey and I loved every moment of it.”

—Mean Who You Are Blog

“I said it before and I will say it again, I love this series... As with all the other books in the series, this book has romance, lies, deceit, secrets and some very interesting surprises. If you love a good paranormal series, one that leaves you satisfied after each book then don’t miss this one.”

—Paranormal Romance Guild

Look for these titles from Ally Shields

Now Available

The Guardian Witch Series

Awakening the Fire (Book 1)

Fire Within (Book 2)

Burning Both Ends (Book 3)

Blood and Fire (Book 4)

Fire Storm (Book 5)

Wild Fire (Book 6)

Eternal Fires (Book 7)

“Heart’s Pride” Valentines Heat I

Elvenrude Novels

Cross Keys (Book One)

Cross Keys: Revelations (Book Two)

Cross Keys: Unity (Book Three)

In Print

Awakening the Fire (Book 1)

Fire Within (Book 2)

Burning Both Ends (Book 3)

Blood and Fire (Book 4)

Fire Storm (Book 5)

Wild Fire (Book 6)

Eternal Fires (Book 7)

Cross Keys

Cross Keys: Unity

Elvenrude Book III

Ally Shields

Etopia Press

Copyright Warning

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Etopia Press

1643 Warwick Ave., #124

Warwick, RI 02889
http://www.etopiapress.com

Cross Keys: Unity

Copyright © 2015 by Ally Shields

ISBN: 978-1-944138-34-9

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: December 2015

DEDICATION

This book is for my granddaughter, Stephanie.

As always, I’m deeply indebted to my family, friends, readers, publisher, and my critique partner, Kath Boyd Marsh. Thank you for believing in my characters.

Disclaimer: Any scenes involving known museums and monuments or their security procedures are purely my imagination and bear no resemblance to actual events or the people and procedures that guard these treasures.

CHAPTER ONE

The early December wind caught the hood of her elven cape, whipping her hair loose. Kam captured her dark locks in one hand, tied them with a thin, black scarf, and pulled the woolen hood back into place. She glanced over her shoulder and wrapped the cloak more securely around her slender figure. The village streets stood deserted, as folks settled in their homes for supper and a snug evening out of Elvenrude’s chill night air. The scent of wood smoke drifted from chimneys. The yellow warmth of the alehouse’s lanterns was only a few feet away.

She took a deep breath, opened the heavy oak door of Keiley’s Pub, and stepped inside. The smell of ale and mead was strong, the lights dim. A few couples talked quietly. The merriment from other groups seemed measured by the number of empty ale mugs on the table.

Keeping her head down, Kam edged her way to a rear table. Her arms prickled with nervous energy, but her entry stirred little interest. The drab disguise made her inconspicuous, just another villager ending a long work day with a pint of brew—or in her case, hot berry wine.

Kam’s eyes itched, and she resisted the urge to rub them. She’d bought a pair of brown contacts in New Orleans two weeks ago—as soon as Captain Brunic proposed this assignment. Her dark hair might have passed casual scrutiny, but not the intense blue eyes. They were distinctive to her aristocratic Ryndel family and made blending into the pub’s clientele of commoners and crossbreeds problematic. She’d put the lenses in before coming through the magic portal this evening from her current home in New Orleans.

A barmaid took her order, returned with her drink, and Kam leaned back to watch and listen to the tavern gossip. Two tables were of particular interest. A group of three auburn-haired male elves near the front conversed in low tones. Their hair and dark eyes identified them as crossbreeds or duchaen as they were calling themselves now. The name derived from an ancient Elfish word meaning birthright, a reference to their struggle for equality.

Her attention was drawn by raised voices from the second table much closer to her. An interesting mixture of companions, and at least one of them had indulged in too much ale, his voice a little louder, less controlled. She leaned forward, took a sip of her drink, and strained to hear their conversation.

“No offense. But I’m not sure I want to get involved with the duchaen.” The speaker was a pale-haired man, a common laborer, with his back to her. “Things aren’t that bad for us. What are you planning?”

Her hand tightened on the mug, waiting for the answer. This might be a lead to the violent core within the rebellion.

“Keep your voice down.” The harsh whisper came from a crossbreed seated directly opposite. His dark eyes held disdain as he hunched over his drink, his brown hair falling forward to partially hide his features. “We can’t discuss it here. If you’re interested, I’ll let you know about the next meeting.” He brushed his hair back and raised his voice to order another pint of ale.

Kam peeked from under her hood at the rest of the room. Other patrons had quickly returned to their own conversations, losing interest in the interruption or possibly wanting to distance themselves from such controversial talk. She checked out the other two men at the table. Commoners. They normally would spurn the crossbreed’s company. The offspring of socially forbidden matings between the dark-haired Elite class and the blond common elves were shunned by both established classes in Elvenrude. Or had been until recently. Acceptance had grown over recent months, but not enough to make the group unremarkable. The fact other patrons weren’t staring proved she was in the right establishment, a regular haunt for members of the duchaen rebellion. And the recent rumors appeared to be correct—they were recruiting commoners to their cause.

Less than ten minutes later, the crossbreed picked up his jacket, and she quickly slipped outside ahead of him and waited in the shadows, prepared to follow. To her surprise, he untied a horse from the rail and swung onto its back.

The pub door opened. “Hey, Kurzi, you forgot this.” One of his table companions handed him a woolen scarf. “You’ll want it against that nippy wind.”

“Thanks.” The horseman wrapped the scarf one turn around his neck, reined his mount to the left, and rode toward the edge of town; the other man went back inside.

Kurzi. She had his name. One hand on her hip, Kam stared after him. He had more resources than expected. At least enough to own or have access to a horse. She couldn’t follow—far too conspicuous on horseback—but the night wasn’t wasted, and she smiled in satisfaction. Her week of surveillance had paid off. She could give Captain Brunic three good descriptions, and the name of one man who appeared deeply tied to the rebellion.

A few minutes later, Kam found the head of the King’s Guard at the palace, a magnificent, ancient structure of marble floors and tall spires that towered above the supporting live oak trees. Captain Brunic’s office was on the ground floor.

He looked up, his weathered face barely showing his age, more than twice her twenty-eight years but still young by elven standards. He stood eagerly. “That grin says you’ve finally learned something, lieutenant.”

“We got a break, I hope.” She reported what she’d overheard at the pub and described the men. “This Kurzi could be one of the rebel leaders. He spoke with authority, even arrogance.” Unusual among the crossbreeds. Most of the mixed race population preferred to stay in the shadows, but perhaps he’d inherited his more aggressive personality from the unknown Elite elf who’d fathered then abandoned him.

“Kurzi, huh? I wonder if he was one of Jermon’s men.” Brunic sat down and motioned her to a chair. “I don’t know him. But he’ll be found and kept under surveillance. If we can break up these meetings, catch and jail the traitors, it’ll finally put an end to the rebellion.”

Kam frowned. Surely Brunic didn’t believe it would be that easy. They’d have to do more than disrupt a few gatherings. And when did Elvenrude start locking up everyone? Wouldn’t that fuel the resentment? The escaped renegade, Jermon Lormarc, may have stirred the pot of discontent with his own evil schemes, but the underlying hunger for equality had grown unnoticed for years, maybe decades. Everyone wanted a chance at a better life.

“I hoped the unrest would end when Lormarc left Elvenrude. Out of sight, out of mind.” Brunic suddenly looked at her. “You don’t think he’s still alive and has come back, do you?”

“He’s not on this side of the portal,” she said with confidence. Kam’s original assignment in the human world had been to the New Orleans’ Antiquities Acquisitions office, but last summer her duties were expanded to include supervision of the portal guards at both Cityside trade guilds. She trusted her officers to be thorough. “Even if he used invisibility magic, they would have noticed the portals open and close during a transport. And both portals have been set to warn of any attempted access by Jermon’s cross key.” She traced the crossbow tattoo on the palm of her hand that allowed portal entrée and shook her head. “I guarantee he isn’t here. In fact, it’s been over three months without a sighting since the New Orleans’ explosion. There’s no proof he survived.”

Brunic gave her a shrewd look. “But you’re not sure he’s dead. It’s in your voice.” His mouth pressed into a hard line. “Neither am I.”

She shrugged. Jermon Lormarc was a vicious yet clever man. He’d attempted to take over Elvenrude with a violent revolution, defying the gods and breaking the enchantment that had protected their magical world from the outside. He’d been caught and imprisoned, but a few months ago, a rogue band of moon elves helped him escape into New Orleans, and they’d last been seen in a gangland headquarters just moments before it exploded. It burned to the ground in an all-consuming fire. He should be dead. But shoulds didn’t always apply to Jermon.

After leaving Brunic’s office, Kam walked through the cluster of homes that surrounded the palace and climbed the swinging wood and hemp walkway that led to her parents’ tree house residence in Brierwood. She picked up the package she’d purchased earlier in the village market, then took the guild portal back to the New Orleans’ wharf.

The port authority guards waved her through the iron gate, and she cut down Decatur Street. The smell of food wafting into the narrow streets of the historic French Quarter reminded her it was well past the dinner hour, and she made one stop before reaching the condo she shared with her mate Seth Lormarc. Once she changed into jeans and combed the tangles from her hair, she sat on the edge of the bed to open the package.

The ornate, silver and emerald clasp was just as beautiful as she’d thought in the elven craftsman’s shop. Kam held it against her lips for a soft kiss, then returned it to the box. The emeralds twinkled in the light, and her mouth curved, thinking how spectacular it would look on Seth’s dark forest-green, ceremonial cape. It was a perfect engagement gift, since he’d be wearing the cape at their wedding next year.

She crouched and hid the small box under the bed. He’d be home from the guild meeting soon, and she didn’t want to ruin the surprise. The Winter Solstice celebration was less than two weeks away. She could keep the clasp a secret until then, couldn’t she?

The ding of the house portal sent her scurrying from the bedroom. By the time Seth found her, she was leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of red wine.

He gave her that slow smile, his green eyes bold with promise. Her heart turned over, as it had every day since they’d met, and, eager for his touch, she set her wineglass on the counter. Kam lifted a hand to run through his black, unruly locks and met his kiss with a hunger of her own.

When he lifted his head, his mouth curved into a grin. “I love finding you here at the end of the day.” He smoothed her hair and planted a second kiss on the tip of her nose. “Now if you were only barefoot and pregnant.”

“Don’t even joke about it.” She widened her eyes in mock horror. “My parents are ignoring our cohabitation, but a pregnancy would have my father on our doorstep with a priestess.”

“As he should.” He looked into her eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait.”

Her mouth dropped open. “For a child?”

“Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind, but why not?” He laughed then. “OK, we should start by announcing the engagement. Why wait for the solstice? Most members of both clans will be pleased.”

“That’s why we’re making the big announcement so public. It’s symbolic. Remember? This was your idea. To formalize the end of the Ryndel-Lormarc feud.”

He tightened his arms possessively. “I didn’t realize how impatient I’d be.”

Kam snuggled against the warmth of his chest. So was she. To be bonded to this incredible man was right up there next to waking in his arms. “I bought your gift today.”

He chuckled. “And it’s a secret. You’re trying to tempt me, but for once, I don’t want to know. I wouldn’t risk giving the fairies an excuse to jinx our future.” He picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “Hmm, that’s good. Is this dinner?”

“Part of it,” she said, taking a second glass from the cabinets. “Since we’re eating so late, I used my extraordinary culinary skills and picked up Italian on the way home. It’s warming in the oven.”

“Terrific. Any luck in Elvenrude?”

She told him what she’d discovered.

“Brunic should be pleased. The rebellion has proven tenacious and elusive, even without my great-uncle there to fuel it.”

“The rebels haven’t done anything recently except talk and provoke a few minor confrontations, but this might help us keep an eye on them. I’m a little worried Brunic’s being so hard core.” She opened the oven and grabbed a mitt. “Look out, this is hot.”

“He has a point. These same people supported Jermon.”

“Some of them did,” she corrected.

While they ate, he changed the subject to the new woolen buyer from Japan. “He placed a sizable order of capes and scarves that should keep the guild busy for the next thirty days. I hope to interest him in our gold and silver products too.” Seth leaned back in his chair and picked up his wineglass. “What did you do before going to Elvenrude?”

“Acquisitions’ business. Two of my spotters transported from Greece to lodge a complaint. Apparently there’s a mysterious competitor who’s snatched several new finds of carved statuary.” She quirked a brow and set down her fork, shoving her empty plate away. “There will always be private and government collectors, and sometimes they get there first. As long as someone’s preserving these things, I’m not worrying about it. After all, that’s the king’s excuse for our museum collection—to preserve those treasures the humans are neglecting before they’re unavailable to future generations.”

“So all’s well, except your spotters lost the recognition that comes with a good find.”

“That’s about it. I told them to keep track of the near misses, but I’m not sure what we could do if we wanted to. There are some things we just can’t fix.”

“Which reminds me…” Seth swirled the wine in his glass. “I had a message from Trystan. He’d like us to visit next week. I think he’s worried the seeds aren’t taking. Even diverting their resources, Cyrilia may not have enough magic to sustain the necessary climate and sun rotation.”

“Oh, no. That sounds bad. And if it doesn’t?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what else we can do. They may be forced to abandon their world and relocate.”

Trystan’s entire Cyrilian kingdom would be homeless—nearly four thousand descendants of the legendary moon elves. A big comedown for the proud, pale-haired race. Kam pictured the desolate land she’d seen when she’d been kidnapped and taken through the Cyrilian dimensional portal a few months ago. It had been a shock. She’d expected their magical world to be a place of lush trees and fields, much like Elvenrude. And apparently it had been in the beginning.

Both worlds had been created from elven magic thousands of years ago when the elves fled through the portals to escape the advance of humanity. But the two branches—the moon elves and Kam’s ancestors, the darkkin—had very different views on life, and each group formed its enchanted world based on its own ideals and skills. The moon elves’ magic was now failing as a result of mistakes or mishaps by their forebearers. Since August the leaders of both worlds had attempted to set aside ancient animosity and work together to stop the disintegration.

“Where would they go? Certainly not Elvenrude. Can you imagine?”

Seth sighed and nodded. “No one is giving up on Cyrilia yet. It’s only been a few months, but the initial reports are not good.”

“I can’t help but worry about our common class of moon elf descendants. If Cyrilia recovers or Trystan relocates, they may want to join their own people again. Especially if they’re dissatisfied enough to consider aligning with the duchaen rebellion. What happens to Elvenrude if we lose our workers?” She frowned and took another sip of wine. “It’s almost scary how everything is changing.”

Seth reached across the table and took her free hand. “We’re ruining a perfectly good meal with all this talk of decaying worlds and rebel causes. I’d rather talk about life with my future wife. Not all change is bad. We’ve had our issues, but we’ve adapted and come through it. I love you more than ever, and soon we’ll be formally promised.”

“Oh, Seth. I can hardly wait.” She set down her wine and clasped his hand with both of hers, the sizzling energy running up her arms and chasing the uncertainties away. “Having you makes up for everything else.”

* * *

Kam arrived at the Acquisitions Office early the next morning. Despite her dismissive words last night, she couldn’t shake off a nagging curiosity raised by her spotters’ complaint of a mysterious collector. Neither Reya nor Tomas was prone to exaggeration.

She pulled the last six months of reports from all ten of her worldwide spotters and studied them. Finds had been down the last ninety days, especially in the Middle East and upper Africa. The antiquities business was often sporadic, still, there seemed to be a particular lack of statuary and other items of volcanic materials, namely obsidian. Kam frowned and dug through a stack of reports until she found one she remembered seeing from Oregon. A collection of rock specimens and artifacts had been stolen during a museum break-in. Mostly obsidian. Was she seeing a pattern?

She set the report down and leaned back pensively. An obsidian collector? It wasn’t unusual for an enthusiast to concentrate on one particular type of artifact. King Seliwyn, for example. The spotter probably wouldn’t have sent her the article except the king also favored obsidian. Her people were always alert to new specimens for his personal collection.

Her office door banged open.

“Kammy! Oops, sorry, Kam. Mother told me it was time I quit using childish names.” Her younger sister breezed in, a grin nearly splitting her face. “I know you’re busy, but I just had to share the news. Bria’s pregnant.”

“What? That was quick.” Kam stood, her grin matching her sister’s. Bria, their new friend from Cyrilia, and Caleb, Kam’s childhood sweetheart, had married four months ago when Bria returned to her home world to help with Cyrilia’s hoped-for recovery. The marriage had been somewhat controversial in both worlds.

The sisters hugged, and Esty giggled. “I was going to tease her about Caleb’s virility…or her fertility, but she’d just be embarrassed. I didn’t want to ruin her happy moment.”

Kam smiled and studied her sister’s face. Esty had grown up so much in the last few months. At nearly twenty-four, she was making the transition from puberty to elven womanhood, which peaked from thirty to eighty. “What great news! This will be the first child born in Cyrilia in five years. Bria’s so young she could give Caleb a whole passel. That should guarantee his acceptance.”

Esty grinned again. “I’ll say. Why don’t we collect an infant welcome basket? Play things, blankets.”

“Seth and I are going to see Trystan on Saturday. You could come with us and bring it along. I saw this darling stuffed lion in a shop window.”

They discussed the basket contents and plans for Saturday, then Esty was off again. Her long, black hair—so much like Kam’s—swung sassily against her shoulders as she hurried out the door. Six months ago Esty had never been through the portals by herself. Now she used them freely, visiting Bria in Cyrilia and shopping or meeting Kam in New Orleans. Sometimes Kam wished her sister would stay a child a little longer, but Esty was only five years younger and at that age Kam had already been a member of the King’s Guard. She was actually proud of Esty’s new independence.

Too bad Rhyden didn’t see it. Seth’s cousin and Esty had dated on and off for almost eight months before he broke it off for good, implying Esty was too young for him. Her sister had taken it hard, but after five weeks she was doing better. If she held any lingering hopes of reconciliation, she was hiding it well.

Kam returned to her desk and eyed the pile of reports. A competitive collector wasn’t really a problem. Certainly not an emergency. She could take a couple hours to wander the New Orleans shops and admire the Christmas decorations. The city was so pretty at this time of year. And a fuzzy little lion cub in a shop window was calling to her.

CHAPTER TWO

Esty stepped out of the portal on the Elvenrude side, waved to a couple of guild workers, and exited the building. She immediately tucked her head against the cold wind. New Orleans’ weather was a wonderful escape this time of year, although Esty still preferred the changing seasons of her homeland. It would be a perfect day to curl up before the fire with a book, but she was focused on Bria’s infant basket. Since Caleb had already notified his family of the coming event, Esty felt free to spread the word and spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon visiting village homes and Elite tree houses to enlist the help of friends and family in making the gift basket a success. By suppertime she had more than two dozen items pledged before Saturday, enough for a suitable infant welcoming.

But she was running late for supper. With the sun’s disappearance on the horizon, the temperature dropped another few degrees, and she huddled into her cloak. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she was forced to sidestep at the last moment to avoid a collision with another hurrying figure.

“Sorry,” he said.

Esty froze at the sound of his voice and glanced up. Rhyden. Her heart wrenched at the sight of him…at the compelling masculinity and chiseled features. She took a deep breath to control her racing pulse.

She’d hoped she was beyond that.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to run you off the path—Esty?” He peered at her in the growing dusk. “What are you doing out at this time of night?”

“Just going home,” she said, finding her voice. “I had an errand that wouldn’t wait. I’m surprised to see you in Elvenrude.” Her voice was strong, if a little stilted.

“Guild business. I’ve just finished a late tea with Harad. You know how it goes.”

She nodded, remembering similar summonses in the past. His grandfather was the head of the Lormarc clan. At one-hundred-and-eighty, the patriarch still kept an eye on everything family related, including the guild’s lively trade with the human world. Either Rhyden or Seth had an extended meeting with him once a month.

The warmth of Rhyden’s easygoing voice sent an unwelcome shiver down her arms, and she turned to edge past him. The sooner she was away from his ready charm, the better. “Well, I’ll let you get on your way—”

The sound of horses’ hoofs made them both turn to look. Captain Brunic and three uniformed guards drew to a stop beside them.

“Rhyden, well met.” Brunic nodded at Esty, then looked back at her companion. “I could use some help. We’re on our way to break up a rebel gathering.”

“Let me get my horse.” Rhyden turned to Esty. “Will you be all right getting home on your own?”

“Of course.” Esty hid her face in her collar, afraid it would reveal her sudden anxiety. She had a lot of interest in and sympathy for the duchaen cause. Not the mob violence they’d seen a few months ago, but their peaceful demands for recognition. The animosity toward the crossbreeds had never made sense to her, but since Bria and Caleb married, she’d listened closely to the duchaen’s complaints. After all, Bria’s child would technically be a crossbreed. Esty had even befriended one of the duchaen women she’d met at The Bookstore, a village gathering place where some mingling among the classes was expected if not encouraged. Esty didn’t condone the traitorous talk of overthrowing the government, but—as far as she could tell—most of the duchaen didn’t either. If this was a peaceful gathering, Brunic’s interference was harassment the rebels didn’t deserve.

Obviously, Rhyden didn’t agree with her. As a special agent of the guard, he was bound to go anyway. While the men discussed their plans—where they would meet and the location of the rebel meeting—Esty grew increasingly alarmed. What would they do to the rebels when they found them? Arrest them? Would her friend Ellyn be thrown into a dark, lonely dungeon somewhere?

Esty excused herself and hurried along the path. Ellyn had once told her where she lived. What had she said? A sod house with a red door. That was it. Esty wasn’t often in this area where the crossbreeds lived, but Ellyn had turned at this corner one morning when they’d returned from a walk.

She moved quickly, peering at doors in the dim light, finally spotted a red door and rapped sharply.

An older woman with a yellow-flowered apron around her waist opened it a crack and looked out. “Yes?”

“May I speak with Ellyn please? I’m Esty Ryndel. Ellyn and I are friends.”

The woman swung the door open and looked her over. “She’s mentioned you.” Her voice was neither friendly nor hostile. “She can’t see you right now.”

“Oh, but it’s important. I’ll only take a minute.”

The woman sighed. “She isn’t here.”

Esty stifled a gasp. “Is she at a meeting? Oh, please, tell me. She could be in big trouble.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“The King’s Guard is on their way to raid the meeting. You have to warn her.”

“Sweet Mother Earth! There’s no one home but me. And I don’t know exactly where they are.” The woman clutched at her apron. “Maybe I can find a neighbor to look for her.” She peered uncertainly at the dark houses nearby.

“No, I’ll go,” Esty said, quickly making up her mind. “I have the directions. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”

Before the woman could do more than say, “Bless you,” Esty ran toward her father’s stables at the edge of town. At least she’d worn jeans today due to the nip in the air.

Her mare snorted as Esty led her out of the warm shelter. Maya rolled her eyes at this nighttime activity but danced at the unexpected treat. After slipping the bridle on, Esty vaulted onto the snow-white back and turned her toward open ground. According to Brunic’s directions, the rebels were meeting in a forest hut several miles away. She’d have to hurry to arrive first, and pray that Brunic didn’t also know a shortcut. Esty’s route involved a dangerous leap across a small waterfall, but she and Maya had done it dozens of times before…in daylight.

Maya stretched out her legs and covered the open fields quickly. Esty slowed her slightly as they entered the forest path to the hunters’ shelter. This was the only section of forest where animals could be shot for food. The hut was actually a shrine where the spirit of each taken animal was honored. Esty frowned, wondering if the rebels were making some kind of statement in their choice of meeting place.

She shook her loose hair out of her eyes and peered at the waterfall just ahead as Maya raced toward it. She lifted her body slightly, and Maya sailed over the splashing stream. Grinning at the perfect landing, Esty patted the mare’s neck and tightened her leg grip as they sped among the trees. Moonlight filtering through the bare branches of the magnificent live oaks allowed them to follow the narrow, beaten path with ease.

Finally, she pulled Maya to a stop and slid from her back. The shelter was nearby, and the last thing she wanted to do was run into Brunic and Rhyden. She dropped the reins in a ground tether and slipped through the brush.

Lantern light shown from cracks around the hut’s plain, wooden door. Voices drifted from inside, and Brunic was nowhere in sight. Esty stepped into the clearing, then stopped and ducked back under the trees at a sound from the woods on her right. Was that the soft snort of a horse?

She waited, her heart pounding, hardly daring to breathe, then heard the crunch of dried twigs and a low murmur. Someone else was in the woods—probably Brunic and his men. She studied the open space between her and the shelter. How could she warn Ellyn without exposing herself? If only she had her bow.

Esty crouched and felt the ground in the dark, gathering a handful of acorns. She moved as far forward as she could without leaving her cover and heaved half the nuts, following up with a second barrage. The acorns rattled against the door with a series of sharp thuds.

Excited voices erupted inside, and the rebels burst from the shelter, scattering in every direction. Horsemen charged from the woods. Brunic and his guards might catch one or two, but Esty saw many rebel figures escape into the trees. She hoped Ellyn was among them. At least they had a chance.

Now to get herself out of here.

She ran back to her horse, swung onto Maya’s back, and turned her head toward home. The mare leaped forward.

* * *

They’d had a lookout! Rhyden’s horse startled when the acorns hit the hut, and it took a moment to regain control. Brunic and two of his men had already dismounted and tethered their horses. They had to remount, which gave the rebels extra time to disperse.

Rhyden urged his horse toward the cabin, but a flash of white in the forest caught his attention. A fleeing rider on a white horse. He whirled to follow, leaving Brunic and his men to go after the rebels still on foot.

Rhyden leaned over his stallion’s neck and peered ahead. He caught only an occasional glimpse of the other rider as they sped along the twisting forest path and vaulted over fallen logs. The horseman was a hell of a rider. Rhyden almost lost the way twice. The waterfall was the last straw. He pulled up as the horse and rider ahead of him sailed over. No way he was taking that jump in the dark. He swerved upriver until he found a shallow crossing. By that time the rider was nearly out of sight, fleeing over the open fields.

Rhyden followed, but he’d lost too much time to hope to catch the fugitive now. He continued in the rider’s last known direction, and fifteen minutes later, a building came into view. He lifted an incredulous brow. The Ryndel stables.

Did Sawyer Ryndel have a rebel on his staff?

Dismounting, Rhyden quietly led his horse forward, staying behind the building. He held one hand gently on his horse’s nose to keep him from whinnying a greeting. Upon reaching the back wall, he ground-tethered the stallion and ran toward the open west end of the horse shelter, hoping to catch the rider still inside. He turned the corner in time to see a slender, cloaked figure running toward the swinging walkway that led into Brierwood.

He entered the stables. Empty, except for the horses dozing or munching hay. He patted the necks or backs of each until he found one still damp from being quickly wiped down after a recent ride. His hand stilled on the animal’s neck, and he stared in disbelief at its big brown eyes. Esty’s mare.

Holy Hades. Had she joined the duchaen rebellion?

* * *

When Rhyden arrived at his office on the sixth and top floor of the Lormarc building in New Orleans the next morning, he was still baffled by last night’s events. Could he be mistaken? Had he followed the trail of the wrong rider, crossed paths with Esty coming back from a late ride instead of the rebel from the forest? What reason would she have for being out at that time of night?

No, clearly she’d gone to warn the rebels after hearing Brunic’s plans. But why? What were the crossbreeds to her? What kind of trouble had she gotten into?

He absently checked his messages, his mind working out what he should do. Normally, he’d discuss it with Seth, but his cousin would feel he should warn Kam, a no-go this time. She’d put a stop to whatever her younger sister was doing, but Esty wouldn’t forgive Rhyden for interfering in that way. The thought of making a final break with Esty was…unsettling. No reason they couldn’t remain friends. He should confront her himself and find out what was going on before involving the rest of her family.

Convinced this was his best course of action, Rhyden greeted Seth with a clear conscience at their usual morning conference. They discussed Rhyden’s meeting with their grandfather, but Esty wasn’t mentioned until the end.

“I’ll be out of the office later this morning,” Rhyden said casually.

“Oh? Going to the guild?”

“No, I have another trip to Elvenrude,” he admitted. He should have anticipated Seth’s questions and invented a good excuse. “Something came up.”

Seth leaned back with a questioning look. “Not a family problem, I hope.”

“No. I…um, ran into Esty yesterday. I thought I’d stop in and see how she’s doing.”

Seth raised a brow. “I thought that was over.”

“It is. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“Oh, of course not. Friends. Sure.” Seth turned away, but not before Rhyden caught the ghost of a smile. “Would you give this report to Guild Master Henre on your way?”

Rhyden welcomed the change of subject and made his escape as quickly as possible. Seth seemed to think he was renewing a romantic relationship with Esty. He wasn’t, but it was an easy cover. The truth was he couldn’t let her get into trouble, nor could he betray her to her family—at least not until he’d made an attempt to fix things himself. Surely she’d break her dubious connection with the duchaen once she was aware he knew. No one else needed to be told about last night’s escapade. Not Kam or her parents. And certainly not Captain Brunic.

* * *

Esty arrived at The Bookstore before ten thirty that morning. She spotted Ellyn’s chestnut curls right away. The other woman nodded, but she had an odd expression on her face.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Ellyn whispered, stopping at the table behind Esty and keeping her back toward her. “My mother said you were at the house last night. Something about the King’s Guard. I don’t understand. What happened?”

Esty wrinkled her brow and picked up a book, pretending to look through its pages. “I was the one who threw the acorns to warn you.”

“What acorns?”

Esty’s head came up, and she glanced over her shoulder at Ellyn. “Weren’t you at the rebel meeting?”

“Shh. Yes, but nothing happened, nothing involving acorns.”

Esty turned back and replaced the book. “Now I’m confused. The meeting at the hunter’s hut was raided by the King’s Guard.”

“In the forest?” Ellyn’s whisper was breathy. “It wasn’t us. We met in town.”

“Oh, no.” Esty’s hand covered her mouth to stifle a squeak. “Then who did I warn?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to attract attention soon if we linger here. I’ll meet you on our usual path.”

Ellyn slipped out the side door. Esty waited five minutes before joining her. Eight weeks ago they’d discovered a path in the woods that was rarely used and had taken frequent walks there for private conversations without the scrutiny or disapproval of other villagers or Elite elves. It was cold this morning, but the lack of wind made the walk tolerable. Esty related the events of her exciting evening, from the chance meeting with Rhyden to Captain Brunic and the raid in the forest.

“I was afraid you’d be arrested.”

“Oh, Esty, you took a terrible risk.” Ellyn shook her head. “There are ruffians among the duchaen, but I’m not one of them. I don’t think violence will gain us anything. Nor does our leader. He’s been trying to identify this splinter group and make them see they’re hurting our cause. So far they’ve remained hidden, even from us. Did you recognize anyone?”

“Not really. It was dark, everyone was running, and then one of the King’s Guards chased me.”

Ellyn drew in a sharp breath. “What if you’d been caught?”

“Well, I wasn’t. But I’m really sorry I helped the wrong people get away.” Esty shivered, thinking about what might have happened if she’d arrived at the meeting just minutes earlier. “I’m glad I didn’t walk in on them.”

Her friend’s eyes grew big. “You might have been hurt…or…or killed.” She grabbed Esty’s arm. “You should stay out of this. If something had happened to you because of me…”

Esty shrugged, refusing to let her mind go there. “I thought you were in trouble. I guess I should be more careful. So, if you’re not part of that group, what were you doing?”

“Planning. Don’t get me wrong—we have some of the same goals as the group in the woods. But we’ll never gain respect if we act like they do.” Ellyn looked away. “I’m not sure how much I should be telling you, but you risked your life for me. I guess that makes it OK. We’re making a list of concerns to present to the king and the guild owners.”

“What kind of concerns?”

“Like living wherever we want, equal access to supplies, equal allotments. Maybe even a chance at supervisory positions in the guilds and the mines.”

Esty looked doubtful over the last item.

“Don’t you think we’d make good decisions?” Ellyn demanded.

“Sure you would, but…I’m not sure anyone would follow your orders.”

“That’s just it.” Ellyn’s eyes gleamed. “We need respect first.” She dropped her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so outspoken. You’re not the problem.”

“But maybe I am,” Esty said softly. “I haven’t done or said anything to stop the way you’re treated.”

“And you can’t. If you speak out, your family would never let you see me again. I don’t want to lose a friend.”

They changed the subject and parted when they reached the edge of the woods. Ellyn turned back toward the village, and Esty climbed the walkway to her tree house home. She was lost in thought and was startled to hear her name called. When she looked up, Rhyden strode toward her from the direction of her home. Her breath caught at the sight of him…the lazy, athletic stride, the green eyes that always held a hint of humor.

Except for now.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “We need to talk, but your nose looks a little red to stay out here for long. Could I buy you a cup of tea at The Bookstore?”

“What’s this about? I’ve already been to the village and should be getting home.” She badly wanted to say yes, but spending time with him would make it more painful when he went away again. She’d begun to adjust…now here he was, confusing her. And she was dying to know what he wanted.

He flashed his charming smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “It won’t take long, I promise. A quick cup of tea, and I’ll get you home.”

“All right, but I don’t understand what’s so urgent.”

“Not exactly urgent, but necessary.” He took her arm, and they turned onto the walkway that led directly to the village shops. “It’ll wait until we have our tea.”

This obvious delay made Esty more curious and slightly wary, especially when he chose a secluded corner of the tea shop, where their conversation wasn’t likely to be overheard.

When they had their tea, she raised a quizzical brow. “Are you stalling?”

Rhyden sighed. “I saw you last night.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“No, not in the village. I saw you in the woods.”

Esty’s lips stiffened, his words robbing her of speech. She blinked and looked away, frantically searching her mind for an explanation he would believe. She couldn’t think of anything.

“Um, what was I doing?”

“Riding like hell away from that rebel gathering. Rather well, I might add.” He leaned forward and kept his voice low. “Esty, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s none of your business,” she said defiantly.

“I’m making it my business. Either you talk to me or I’ll have to contact Kam or your parents. Those duchaen rebels are dangerous.”

She drew in a quick breath. “Not all of them, but please don’t involve my family. It was all a big mistake. Truly.” Esty clutched her trembling fingers under the table. How much should she tell him? He already thought she was a child. Now he’d be convinced she was foolish too.

He cocked his head. “It seems pretty obvious to me you went there expressly to warn them.” When she didn’t answer, he pressed. “Isn’t that what you were doing?”

“Yes.” Her voice was small. “But I didn’t intend to. I mean…I did, but it was the wrong rebels.”

His brows lowered. “What are you talking about?”

Esty sighed and finally met his gaze directly. She was terrible at lying and keeping secrets. “I have a friend who’s part of the duchaen cause. She only wants more respect, better jobs. When I heard what Brunic said…I thought she’d be arrested. But she was at a different meeting. A peaceful one. It was my mistake.”

He sat back and looked at her, finally shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be involved with the duchaen at all. I never expected you to be taking up social causes.”

“Why not? Because I should be a proper elven woman?” Her brows dipped in annoyance. “You wouldn’t be surprised if it was Kam, would you?”

A smile played across his lips. “So this is a bid for independence?”

“No, I truly think they’ve been treated badly. I didn’t want them harassed or arrested. But I’m sorry I helped the wrong ones. Did you catch anybody?”

“Not yet. They hid in the woods, possibly in the trees or nearby caves. But Brunic recognized a couple of them. He’ll find them again.”

Esty couldn’t resist asking, “Who did he see?”

“Why do you ask? Want to warn them again?”

“Of course not. But my friend’s friends are also looking for them. They want to stop them from giving the duchaen a bad name. Maybe they’d help you find them.”

“They’d turn in their own people?”

She hesitated. “I don’t think they’d go that far. They want to convince them to stop scaring people.”

Rhyden gave a sharp cough of skepticism. “Some of them are Jermon’s former associates. They aren’t going to be nice just because someone asks them to.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt to try. It could save lives. Isn’t that a good thing?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or do you think crossbreeds aren’t worth saving?”

“Hey, this isn’t about me.” He raised his hands in defense. “They’ve had a tough life. And both our guilds have taken recent steps to make it better.”

“Not enough. And not soon enough. Did you realize Bria and Caleb’s baby will be a crossbreed? Do you want their child to be shunned? We have to do more.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe support those who advocate peaceful change.” Her face lit with sudden inspiration. “We could get the king to issue a proclamation making them equals.”

“Slow down, Esty. These things don’t happen all at once. When the rebel violence is stopped, we can look at these other issues. Until then, the king will be focused on the troublemakers.”

“It’s not fair to the others,” she said pursing her lips in a pout.

“Maybe not, but that’s the way it is. And you have to stay out of it before you get hurt.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Meaning?” His voice held a warning.

Esty chose her words with care. “I won’t turn my back on my friend or those working for a better outcome. But I won’t do anything stupid like last night. I’ll be more careful.”

“Not good enough. You shouldn’t put your trust in these people. Their goals and the welfare of your family may come into conflict, and they’ll turn on you. I can’t let you continue to place yourself in danger.”

She raised her eyes to his. “You don’t get to make that choice for me. But if you’re so worried about my safety, then help me.” Esty was sorry the moment she said it. Working with Rhyden on anything would be awful until she got over this childish crush. Sweet mother, why was growing up so complicated? She held her breath, hoping he’d say no, yet fearing he would.

For a moment, he said nothing. “Exactly what do you plan to do?”

“Find out who’s in this splinter group and give their names to my friend. I think the duchaen can end the violence if given a chance.”

“If that doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll give the names to Brunic.”

“What makes you think you can do this? Others have already tried to single out the troublemakers.”

“Not hard enough. I just know I can,” she said stubbornly. “I have to do something.”

He leaned back again and studied her face. “At some point we’d have to bring Seth and Kam into this, but I’ll help you on one condition—you don’t do anything without me. Can you live with that?”

“I guess I’ll have to.” Esty’s careful words hid a surge of elation. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed. His status as a co-owner of a major trade guild—and yes, his male gender—would give her access to people and places she normally didn’t have, but how would she survive having him so near…and yet so far? She’d have to find a way to harden her heart.

He gave her a wry look. “I’ll try not to be too intolerable.”

CHAPTER THREE

On Saturday, Kam, Seth, and Esty transported to Cyrilia, the magical world the moon elves and their descendants had occupied for thousands of years—and that their friends were working so hard to save. They stopped at the palace entrance to collect Prince Trystan, Cyrilia’s ruling monarch in place of its dying king, then set out to visit Bria and Caleb. Seth carried the heavily laden infant welcoming basket filled with blankets, soft infant clothes, and cloth toys. The fuzzy lion peeked out the top.

Bria and Caleb waited at the door of their castle home to welcome them. The Cyrilian woman hugged everyone and effusively thanked them for the basket before setting it on a table and returning to the circle of Caleb’s arms. With his dark hair contrasting against her flaxen locks, they made a striking couple, and his obvious delight in her pregnancy spread a grin across his face. It was contagious. Even Trystan had a happy gleam in his eyes.

It was later, when they went for a walk over the new farm fields, that Trystan’s aristocratic features turned somber. He spread out a hand. “As you can see, most of the plants have yellowed or wilted. There just isn’t sufficient sunlight or moisture.”

“These are the drought-resistant varieties, aren’t they?” Seth asked.

“Yes. Probably why they’re still alive. But it isn’t enough.” Trystan sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I think our efforts are going to fail. Our remaining magic isn’t strong enough to reclaim our land even with Elvenrude’s expertise.”

Kam looked at the dry, barren earth and the stunted trees. It was true. She didn’t see much evidence of recovery. The Cyrilians had diverted their resources and brought the sun back for two or three hours a day, but that hadn’t made their land flourish.

“Is there some way to speed up the process of replenishing the magic? We know it slowly regenerates if we stay in the world of man where it was born, but does anyone know why?” She cocked her head at Seth. “Do the soothsayers even have a theory?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the answer is at the earth’s core. Or in its trees, the air, the soil. Perhaps a mineral in the mountains. We’ve never known the source of elven magic. It could be anything or a combination of things, but it is earthborn.”

“Maybe the original source no longer exists,” Bria said. “It’s been thousands of years.”

“Except our magic still works much better on earth than in Elvenrude. It has to be tapping into something. At least a form of the source is there. If we could find it… We’d have to identify it first, and even then, I’m not sure we’d know what to do with it.” Seth shrugged and looked at Trystan. “Have you thought about alternatives?”

“Only one is even worth trying. We must return to earth and hide ourselves for hundreds or thousands of years until the magic returns.” He sighed and shook his head. “It won’t be easy. And not everyone agrees it’s possible to hide that large a group. But if our people scatter and try to live long-term side by side with the humans, it’s almost a given we’d be discovered. That would be disastrous.”

“Perhaps you could live in Elvenrude,” Esty suggested. She was walking arm in arm with Bria. “We have lots of open land.”

“A generous thought but not practical. Even if your magic could support another three or four thousand magic users, it would be dangerous to throw together two branches of elves with so much inbred animosity. Especially at a time when Elvenrude has its own internal struggles.” Tryst sighed. “It would be a hard adjustment and might ruin Elvenrude. I would never ask that of your king.”

“What if we could resolve the rebellion?” Esty persisted. “Look at us. We get along fine. Couldn’t the rest of our people learn to do so?”

“In an ideal world, yes,” Kam said. “But no place is perfect, even Elvenrude. Remember the mob of commoners and crossbreeds? That wasn’t long ago.”

“They were scared and didn’t understand what was happening. I don’t believe they want the fighting any more than we do.”

Kam gave Esty a thoughtful look. Since when had her sister become so forgiving? Being chased by angry rabble wasn’t something you quickly forgot.

“Well, we’re not to the point of making a rushed decision,” Trystan said. “Maybe the coming months will reveal a better solution. We’re looking into artificial grow lighting on a large scale.”

As the men continued to discuss crops and climate, Kam dropped back to join Bria and Esty. “Shall we return to the castle?” she asked with a smile. “I don’t want to tire our mother-to-be.”

“I do require frequent naps,” Bria admitted. “And I find the fields depressing. Let’s go back, and look through that lovely basket again.”

Before they reached the castle entrance, the men rejoined them. Caleb seemed unable to have his wife out of sight for long, and Kam assumed the men were no more enthusiastic to be in the wilting fields than Bria was.

Esty stopped at the front gate. “I think I’ll leave you now. I have an appointment in Elvenrude.” She hugged Bria. “Enjoy the basket. I promise I’ll make a longer visit next week.”

“Now that’s interesting,” Seth said pointedly. “Rhyden had an appointment in Elvenrude too.”

Kam looked from Seth to Esty. “Are you seeing Rhyden again? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, it isn’t like that.” Esty flipped her hair nonchalantly. “We’re just friends. He’s helping me with something.”

“With what?”

“Nothing that would interest you. I have to hurry now. See you later.” She turned and walked briskly down the path to the portal.

Kam stared after her. What was that about?

Seth slipped an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry. Whatever they’re up to, she’ll be fine. Rhyden wouldn’t let her get into trouble.”

“Yeah, right.” Kam blew out a frustrated breath. “Rhyden is the trouble. He broke her heart the last time.”

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Kam got back to her office. She’d been tempted to go home for the day, but she still had Acquisitions reports to read. She sank into her desk chair and pulled up the new reports on her computer screen.

But hard as she tried, she couldn’t concentrate on business. So many other things were on her mind. Bria’s pregnancy was exciting, of course, and yet her friends were bringing a child into an uncertain future in Cyrilia. She hated the underlying sadness in Bria’s eyes.

And then there was Esty. Was she headed for another shattered romance? Just a few days ago, Rhyden claimed he’d broken it off with Esty because “it just wouldn’t work.” Whatever that meant. Now this. She really didn’t want her sister to go through another six weeks of crying if…when he left again. She sighed. Ah, well. It wasn’t her decision. If it didn’t work out, she’d be there to help pick up the pieces. But this time Rhyden would also get a piece of her mind. Her sister wasn’t a plaything.

Annoyed she couldn’t fix everything, Kam grabbed the papers in her In Box and glanced at the top one. A new artifact. Good. At least it was something interesting. She stood and searched a nearby table until she found a package stamped with the same code as the report. She set it on the desk and opened it to take a look at the contents, arrowheads from the American Southwest. Not of great value and only limited historical significance, but in good condition. She ran her fingers over them to allow her magic to authenticate the age dating, then returned them to the box. She stamped the report “accepted” and set it aside, moving on to the next.

She was still clearing her In Box when the phone rang at 6:00 p.m. She smiled. Seth would be calling about dinner.

But the voice on the line cracked with tension. “This is Tomas. I’m in Santorini, and I think Reya’s in trouble. There’ve been shadowy flashes of light around the excavations two nights in a row, and she was going to check it out a half hour ago. Now I can’t raise her by phone. I’m headed to the dig site now.”

Kam frowned. “We’re not talking flashlights, are we?”

“No. I’ve seen them myself. Blurs of grayish light shaped like indistinct figures. I think it’s something magical.”

Her gut clenched. Invisibility magic? “I’m coming. If you see the lights again, don’t engage.”

Kam grabbed her hooded duty jacket with its hidden mini crossbow, ran to the office portal, held her tattooed hand over the etching on the floor, and stepped into the elevator-like shimmer that appeared. An instant later she arrived at the Cityside Ryndel guild, shouted her destination to Guild Master Barrott, and hopped to Fira, the capitol of Santorini in the Greek islands, using the coordinates for Reya’s temporary portal.

She stepped out on the other end into the darkness of 2:00 a.m. local time. With her feet barely touching the ground, she sped across the six miles of rocks and volcanic ash between Fira and the Akrotiri ruins. Nearing the ancient site—less than five minutes after leaving her New Orleans’ office—she spotted Tomas in the open, waving his arms to attract her attention. She diverted her course and caught up with him as he turned and ran toward the nearby village.

“No sign of Reya,” he explained. “But I just saw two of the shadowy lights go behind those buildings.”

When they reached the edge of the village, Kam leaped onto the rooftops using the enhanced magic in her silver wristband, and Tomas searched from street level. Within seconds she spotted three flashes of light bending over something on the ground in a dark alley, and she hissed at her spotter, pointing the way.

An arrow whizzed by her head. Holy mother. She whipped her head toward an adjoining street where two more shadowy figures had fired at her. Kam fired back and dropped into a crouch, tempted to give chase but more concerned about what she’d find in the alley. She slid over the edge of the rooftop, nearly stumbled over Reya’s limp body, and knelt beside her.

The metallic scent of blood filled her senses. Multiple stab wounds, shallow breathing. Heart pounding, Kam swallowed a lump in her throat and touched Reya’s temples with her fingers.

“Come on, honey. Stay with us,” she murmured. Using the simple healing skills learned from her godmother, she reinforced the young woman’s fading energy, praying it would be enough.

Tomas skidded to a stop next to them, and Kam forestalled his questions. “She needs the healers. Can you get her home? I’m going after the attackers.”

“On my way.” Tomas scooped up the unconscious girl as if she were weightless and took off running.

Kam’s arms tingled with the amount of residual elven magic in the alley. She vaulted back to the rooftops, following Tomas’s progress and scanning the area for the cowards who’d done this. She hadn’t a doubt who it was—Jermon Lormarc and the four Cyrilian fugitives—cloaked in invisibility magic.

She circled the small village and reached the path to Fira without seeing the shadowy figures again. The delay in the alley to tend to Reya had allowed the attackers to get away. Kam dropped to the ground and raced after Tomas. Reya was still the priority.

Halfway to Fira and the portal for home, she caught up with the young elf and shadowed him from a parallel course to guard against another attack. But the rogues didn’t appear, and within minutes, Reya was in the hands of the healers at the Elvenrude apothecary and temple of healing. Then they waited.

Kam paced outside the infirmary room, unable to shake off her nervous fears. Tomas mumbled something about being back soon and disappeared down the hall. The door of the treatment room finally opened, and a healer stepped out.

“We were in time.”

Relief washed over her. When the healer finished his report by banning visitors until Reya woke on her own, Kam left to find Tomas. He was sitting on the floor beside the front door with both hands gripping his bowed head. He stood immediately, his face asking the question he couldn’t say aloud.

“She’s going to be fine.” His relief was palpable, and Kam gestured to a row of benches. “But she’s sleeping now. Let’s sit while you tell me anything else you know.”

He described the first sighting the night before. “I’ve been working mostly on the mainland, but I happened to be there when we saw the flashes last night. We were far away, and it didn’t seem like much, except I saw similar lights in the lava fields of Saudi Arabia last week. A year ago, I would have thought it was my imagination, still wasn’t sure until tonight. But after I thought about it…it’s them, isn’t it? The Cyrilians. But why? What do they want at an ancient dig?”

“Let’s not speculate. Maybe Reya can clear it up when she wakes.”

“Can I stay here until she does?”

“Of course, you can,” she said gently. “But you’re covered with blood. Why don’t you clean up and eat first? You might even catch a couple hours of sleep. It’s the middle of the night for you, and she might not wake for hours yet.”

Tomas looked at his blood-soaked clothes, nodded reluctantly, and turned toward the door. Kam headed for the palace to break the bad news.

* * *

Captain Brunic rubbed his chin. “By the gods, Kam, I don’t know what to think. How sure are you?”

“Pretty sure, but Reya isn’t awake yet to confirm it. Still, I felt the magic, and I’ve seen invisibility before.” She scrunched her forehead. “But it was the last place I expected to find Jermon. Why artifacts? I suppose they need some way to support themselves, but the antiquities business isn’t very lucrative unless you have widespread contacts. That takes years to establish.”

Brunic snorted. “Forget that! Jermon Lormarc wouldn’t bother to become even a semi-legitimate dealer of relics. If it’s him—and that still seems incredible—there’s some crooked scheme behind it. Something with a big payoff.”

“On the surface, it does seem petty.” She glanced toward the door of Brunic’s office. “I wonder what’s keeping Seth. I sent him a message as soon as I returned.”

Seth walked in the door a few minutes later, vigorously rubbing his hands together. “One forgets how chilly Elvenrude is this time of year.” He threw Kam a rueful look. “Sorry, I took so long. I was with a buyer, and they didn’t give me your message until we were done. You said there was trouble. What kind?”

“Your Uncle Jermon may be alive after all.”

Seth stilled and blinked at her. “What’s he done now?”

“Nearly killed one of my spotters.” She gave him the details, including the severity of the young woman’s injuries and her own brief encounter with the fugitives.

Seth swore under his breath. Beyond the anger over Reya, he clearly wasn’t happy Kam had gone alone. His face darkened when he heard the rogues had shot at her, but anything he might have said about it was no doubt curtailed by Brunic’s presence. He stayed focused on Jermon. “His survival was always a possibility—but the Greek islands? Saudi Arabia? What’s he up to this time?”

Kam shrugged. “That’s what we’ve been discussing.”

A tap on the captain’s office door interrupted. Tomas stuck his head in. “Reya’s awake. She’s asking for you.”

With the blood wiped away, her wounds bandaged, and a little color in her cheeks, Reya attempted a wan smile from her infirmary cot. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before my mother returns with a pot of homemade tea. I’m afraid she’ll tell you to leave. She’s super upset and fussing. Way too protective.”

“As she should be,” Kam said. “I’m relieved to see you awake.”

“Thanks, but I’d better tell you what happened before she gets here and freaks over the details.” Reya glanced toward the door. “Tomas said you saw the shadows running away?” Kam nodded, and the girl went on. “They were inside the excavation. Five, I think. When they left, I followed them to Santorini where they split up. Two elves with nearly white hair materialized in an alley, met with a dark-haired human woman, and gave her something in a small burlap bag. I was going to move closer for a better look, but I heard this sound behind me.” Reya winced. “Then a sharp pain shot across my back, and I was hit in the head. It was a blur after that.”

“Did you see the attackers?”

She shook her head. “Not really. They were invisible and never materialized. Tomas thinks it was the escaped elves.”

“It’s a possibility. But no sign of Jermon?” Seth asked.

“I just saw the two in the alley.”

Reya couldn’t recall any other details, and when her mother arrived, the older woman urged them toward the door.

“She has to rest now. My daughter almost died tonight.”

Kam touched the older woman’s arm in reassurance. “I’m so sorry this happened, but I know she’ll make a quick recovery with you looking after her.” Kam stopped in the doorway and turned. “Oh, one last question. Has this dig yielded any obsidian artifacts?”

Reya’s drooping lashes flew open. “Uh, yes, quite a few. Various colors. Most of the native obsidian is mixed with impurities, but they’ve found black obsidian weapons and tools brought in by ancient traders. Is that important?”

“It might be.” Kam backed out the door as Reya’s mother frowned at her. “You rest now, and we’ll talk more later.”

In the hallway, Seth stopped Kam with a hand on her shoulder. “Why did you ask about obsidian?”

“A hunch. Our acquisition reports for the last few months show a decline in obsidian finds. And there was a recent theft of an obsidian collection. Just a curiosity I noted. Maybe Jermon wants it so the king can’t have it.”

“A lot of trouble just to thumb his nose at Seliwyn, but it’s hard to predict how Jermon thinks.”

That at least was true. Seth’s great-uncle was an enigma. Uneasiness twisted in her chest. But if he wanted obsidian badly enough to kill for it, he must know something the rest of them didn’t. Unless King Seliwyn knew…

Half an hour later, Seliwyn stared out the window of his private chambers with his back toward Kam, Seth, and Brunic. “It is a most unfortunate development.”

Unfortunate? Kam’s lips thinned with irritation. Where was the outrage she’d expected? One of his infamous tantrums when things didn’t go according to his plans? His tone was guarded, as if he’d expected the news or found some hidden meaning in it. “Your Majesty—” She cut off her abrupt reaction and composed her tone. “My young spotter was almost killed.”

He turned then. “Yes, of course. That was terrible. I’m thankful our healers were able to save the poor child. I was referring to the renegades’ interest in artifacts. Do you have a theory?”

“No, do you?” She cocked her head and met his gaze.

He looked away. “Money. Spite.” He threw up his hands. “Who knows? Don’t ask me to think like that lunatic.”

For some reason, the king was concealing what he really thought, but Kam had already pushed him. She clamped her mouth shut.

Seth broke the awkward silence. “We should go back to Santorini. See if we can pick up a trail. If it’s Jermon, he probably used a portal. Maybe we can locate it and follow them.”

“Trystan needs to know his brother may still be alive. I’m sure he’ll want to go with us.” She turned to the king. “Do you have an objection?”

Seliwyn waved a hand in dismissal. “Do whatever you think best. Let me know what you learn.” He returned to gaze out the window as Kam, Seth, and Brunic made a hasty exit.

“What was that all about?” she asked Brunic when they reached the corridor. “I’ve never seen him act so pensive, so remote.”

“Some days the monarchy sits heavier on his shoulders than others.” The captain was noncommittal, as befitted the king’s closest advisor.

No doubt Brunic’s excuse was true, but Kam wished she knew what was going on behind Seliwyn’s gray, hooded eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kam, Seth, and Prince Trystan met at the Ryndel Guild in New Orleans and transported to Fira, the capitol of Santorini island. Dawn was breaking, and the sun’s rays sparkled off the white, cubist buildings with occasional touches of a bright blue roof or door and equally white cobblestone streets, turning it into a magical scene very different than her tense trip last night. In the dazzling light, it was easy to imagine fairies riding snow-white unicorns to the protruding mountain peak.

The island town wasn’t yet overrun with tourists from the cruise ships, and Kam quickly showed them the spot where she’d found Reya. There was nothing left to see. The street cleaners had been there before them, removing any trace of blood or disturbance. The bleaching agents had also dispersed any magical trace.

“It is beautiful here,” Trystan said. He looked toward the caldera, the huge bowl of water formed by a volcanic eruption three or four thousand years ago, and then turned to survey the surrounding Aegean Sea, rocky beaches, and wide stretches of grape vines. “What a shame to defile this place with bloodshed.”

“I dare say it wasn’t the first time, nor the last,” Kam said.

“Where are the excavations of Atlantis?” Trystan asked.

“They call it Akrotiri,” she said. “Humans think Atlantis was a myth.”

He looked surprised. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“The ruins they’ve uncovered are this way.” She picked her way over the gritty surface of rocks and sparse, stubby brush she’d raced across last night.

The research digs were enclosed, covered…and guarded. But Trystan had come prepared with three of the silver Cyrilian rings of invisibility. As soon as they were cloaked, they went over the fence and scouted the area. Much of the ancient city had been reduced to partially uncovered walls and was sealed away from tourists. Signs of archeologists and researchers digging in cleared areas were apparent, and a few modern tools had been left in place.

“Back here.” Trystan kept his voice low as he pointed to a rear fence. “I feel a tingle of magical energy where some of them must have come over.” He ran his hands over the surface. “I can’t identify any individual magic.” His face sagged with disappointment.

Kam watched as he searched for evidence of his brother’s survival. “There were five, Tryst. That has to include Tadeous.”

“Unless someone else has joined them. Several are missing from Cyrilia. I don’t know whether they’ve relocated due to our failing environment or if they’ve joined the fugitives.”

“But five is suggestive.”

“Yes. The others have taken their families with them. Dreysel, Andolf, Tad, and Seye are the only loners,” Trystan said.

“Wait a minute. Is there another one?” Kam demanded. “Who’s Seye? I thought the fourth Cyrilian with Jermon was named Merim.”

“Merim-Seye, but he’s known to us as Seye. In any case, if this is the original five, they clearly escaped the New Orleans fire.”

“By using an emergency escape portal.” Kam gave a disgusted shake of her head and turned to look over the ruins. “And now they’re after artifacts so small they’re relatively worthless on an open market.”

“We’re missing something,” Seth said. “Let’s keep looking for the portal and talk with the site guides. Maybe there’s been a recent, major discovery—something powerful or priceless—that’ll make sense of this.”

They scouted the village and the surrounding area for remnants of a portal. Nothing. It had been a long shot. Jermon would have erased it. Unless they happened to stumble upon the exact spot, it wasn’t likely they’d detect it, and even less likely it would tell them anything.

They deactivated the invisibility rings and returned to the excavation entrance to await the arrival of the tourist guides. A few visitors with sun hats and canteens had already collected at the gates.

Kam and her friends stayed off to the side. They’d worn jeans and T-shirts today in hopes of blending with other tourists. Trystan’s long, pale hair was tied back, the tips of his elven ears hidden under a khaki safari hat, and the hat brim lowered so his multi-colored eyes would go unnoticed. Kam and Seth were bareheaded, their pointed ears smoothed by Elvenrude’s portal adaptation. Kam’s blue eyes and Seth’s green ones—while remarkable in intensity—were acceptable colors if no one looked too closely.

When the first guide arrived, Seth engaged the attractive young woman with questions about the site. Kam lifted a brow. He was carrying the flirting a little too far, but the guide was flattered and might have chatted all day if the more senior guides hadn’t arrived and assigned her a group to escort.

Seth’s eyes twinkled when he rejoined the group. “Nothing remarkable at the digs in several weeks. But…” he held up a finger, “something happened in Fira last night. A break-in at the Museum of Prehistoric Thira. It’s where most of their finds are displayed.”

“What was taken?”

Seth pointed toward the path to the island capitol. “She didn’t know, but I think we should find out.”

* * *

The guard at the Museum of Prehistoric Thira shrugged. “Things happen. Foreigners want souvenirs, and the dig operators refuse to let them take even the small stuff. Items have disappeared from the museum before. Shoplifting.” He scratched his head. “No break-ins though. Not before last night.”

“Did the thieves get away with much?”

“Some old stone pieces.” The guard glanced at an official-looking man with a name tag frowning at them. “I should get back to work. They don’t like us talking with tourists.”

“What kind of stones?” Kam asked hurriedly.

“Mostly obsidian cutting tools.”

He returned to his duties, and the museum official lost interest. Kam, Seth, and Trystan headed for the door.

“What’s with the obsidian?” Trystan asked.

Kam shook her head. “It’s a recurring theme. Maybe we should ask King Seliwyn again. He seems to share their fascination.”

“An art trader might have an idea,” Seth suggested, eyeing her. “Don’t you know someone?”

“I can reach out to a few contacts, but if the art world knew of something big I would have heard it before now.”

“Not if it’s magical,” Trystan said. “What’s important to us might be of no or little interest to humans…something they wouldn’t even recognize as valuable. If that’s the case, Dreysel and the others are already way ahead of us. They know what it is.”

* * *

When they transported back to the Ryndel Guild, it was nearly 6:00 a.m. in New Orleans. To Kam’s surprise, Guild Master Barrott was already on duty, and he hurried down the stairs from the second floor, waving a white card in his hand.

“I have an urgent message for Prince Trystan.” He handed the note to the Cyrilian. “It’s from King Seliwyn.”

Trystan tipped his head toward Seth and Kam. “What could be this pressing?”

“Only one way to find out,” Seth said.

While Trystan read the note, his brow furrowed, and he read it a second time before handing the message to Kam and Seth. “He wants to meet with my father.”

“Why now? He knows how ill King Radnor is.” Kam scanned the brief message. “It doesn’t say.”

“You can be damned sure it isn’t a social call,” Seth said.

Barrott cleared his throat. “I was told the king wants the two of you to accompany him and Brunic on the visit.”

“This gets stranger and stranger.” Kam looked at Seth. “I guess we better clean up.”

“I’ll do the same,” Trystan said. “And see if my father is in any shape for visitors. He has good and bad days. I’ll contact you as soon as I return.”

“If we’re ready first, we’ll wait for you here,” Seth said.

Trystan nodded and climbed the stairs to a second portal recently set up in the Guild Master’s office. It led directly to Cyrilia.

Forty minutes later, Kam and Seth were back, showered and reasonably alert. Barrott had sent a message to Elvenrude regarding their return from Greece, and the king was waiting for final confirmation of the Cyrilian trip. Kam and Seth drank coffee in Barrott’s office until Trystan arrived several minutes behind them.

“All set.” The prince stepped out of the portal looking elegant in formal court attire of ivory with braided, gold trim. “My father is alert and understands who’s coming. He seemed eager for the meeting. But we should hurry. I can’t guarantee how long he’ll be this lucid.”

They transported to Elvenrude, met briefly with Seliwyn—who refused to answer their broad hints about the reason for this meeting—and the five of them went directly to Cyrilia. Kam pulled Brunic aside to demand an explanation, but he claimed he didn’t know either. “He won’t tell me anything. It’s most unlike him.”

This was the first time Kam had been inside the main rooms of the Cyrilian palace since she was kidnapped and escaped several months ago. The marble had deteriorated to a dull grayish-white because part of the magic sustaining it had been diverted to the climate project. Unlike Elvenrude, whose founders had used most of their magic to mirror the earthen world with life-sustaining natural elements, the Cyrilians had used magic for everything, from creating and maintaining the structures they lived in to producing the foods they ate. The palace’s dimming colors only made Cyrilia’s continuing decline more obvious.

Trystan led them through several corridors, finally stopping in a wing Kam hadn’t seen before. He opened a large door and swept his arm for King Seliwyn to precede him. Trystan followed him in, then Captain Brunic, and finally Kam and Seth.

What looked like a large sitting room was empty except for the ornate furnishings in ivory and gold. Tapestry of gold and green covered the floor. These too had lost their luster and richness. Trystan crossed to a second door, disappeared inside, then returned to motion them to follow.

Surrounded by pillows, King Radnor lay in a huge bed, draped with velvety fabric of green and ivory. His royal physician stood at his side, and two guards kept watch from the corners of the room. Radnor’s long hair was pure white and his complexion a near match as if life had almost drained from his thin body. Nevertheless, his face bore a welcoming smile, and he held out a frail hand for King Seliwyn to come closer.

“Welcome to my kingdom,” he said. “Such as it is. I am honored to meet you. My son has told me of your kindness.”

“It is I who am honored.” Seliwyn stepped forward and took Radnor’s hand briefly. “I do not wish to tire you, but I have an important matter to discuss. I must begin with what may seem an outrageous request…absolute privacy. Just the two of us. No one else.”

“I cannot allow that,” the physician said. “Nor can his majesty be left unprotected.”

Radnor’s brittle laugh startled Kam. “Protect what, Milo? I’m almost gone. Please leave us. No arguments. I am most curious to hear what must be said in such secrecy.”

Trystan took charge and in spite of the physician’s renewed protests and dark looks, he removed everyone and firmly closed the door. “He has little time left. If this is his wish, it is my pleasure to do this small thing for him. You cannot stop the ravages of time, healer.”

The physician’s expression shifted from annoyance to sorrow. “It is hard to watch him fail like this. If only I could do more.”

“You’ve done much. You’ve given him more than healing…you’ve offered friendship for more years than I can count.”

“What could the two kings possibly have to discuss?” Kam asked Seth and Brunic as Trystan spoke with the grieving healer. “They don’t even know each other, do they?”

“To my knowledge, they’ve never met.” Brunic shrugged. “I can’t even guess what Seliwyn came to say or to learn, but he has been in seclusion since you met with him yesterday. I know secrets exist that pass only from one of Elvenrude’s monarchs to the next. There is a portion of the castle that is inaccessible to the rest of us, and the king was in there late last night. I’ve heard it contains a vault that opens only to the king’s cross key.”

Kam hesitated, intrigued by what might be hidden in the vault, but fearful Brunic would stop talking if she asked. She kept her curiosity from her face. “Why would he share any of Elvenrude’s secrets with Cyrilia’s king?”

“I’m not saying he would—although it may be something only another monarch would understand,” Brunic said. “But I know he doesn’t tell me everything.”

The conversation dwindled after that. Twenty minutes later, the bedchamber door opened and King Seliwyn stepped out. He nodded at the physician. “He’s fallen asleep, but we were finished.”

Kam studied the king’s face. He looked more somber, or maybe more contemplative, than when they arrived. Was it due to King Radnor’s condition or the result of their discussion?

Seliwyn turned to Trystan. “Is there somewhere the rest of us can talk privately?” He swept his gaze over the other three. “It’s time to break a sacred oath. The survival of both our worlds could depend on it.”

Kam and Seth exchanged looks as Trystan led them through the winding palace halls to his personal chambers. Seliwyn remained quiet and withdrawn until they were settled. Captain Brunic hovered at his sovereign’s side.

Seliwyn finally flashed a hint of a smile. “It’s all right, Brunic. I’m not going to collapse on you, but this is a momentous decision. I’m about to reveal a secret that has been kept by Elvenrude’s monarchs for thousands of years…since our world began. I do not take this step lightly. I want your oath it will go no further than the five of us and King Radnor, who already knows.” He held out his hand with the royal silver crest surrounded by diamonds and four black points.

Kam and the three men—including the Cyrilian prince—placed their hands over his ring and swore to keep their silence. When the oath was made, the king held up his hand again and rotated it until light reflected from the ring’s stones. “Have you ever wondered about the black gemstones? They are obsidian. It is the source of all elven magic.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Kam stared open-mouthed. Obsidian. Could it restore Cyrilia? Is that why Jermon and Dreysel were looking for it? No, not Jermon. He wouldn’t care about Cyrilia, but Dreysel, maybe. But how would they know Seliwyn’s secret? What else could they do with obsidian? She forced herself to ignore her jumbled thoughts and concentrate on what King Seliwyn was saying.

“Black obsidian born from the core of earth by volcanic activity holds and renews our magic. It cannot be duplicated in any other way. When Elvenrude was formed, the enchantment bound a large piece of the sacred rock called the Heart of Ishka inside a hidden vault. It is the responsibility of each monarch to guard it with our lives. The same vault contains the books explaining the formation of our world, the rituals involved, and how it is maintained by the obsidian.”

“Is that the Chruthud Elvenrude?” Seth interrupted.

Seliwyn shook his head. “That is the public version which does not contain the detailed information nor the spells and incantations. Obsidian is never mentioned. But it does speak of a dark stone, an uncomfortably close reference. Why do you ask?”

“Jermon was reading it in his cell last summer. He’s clever enough to understand the implications.”

“Then he suspects its power,” Brunic said. “That explains the thefts and the attack to drive your spotter away.”

“It is what I feared,” Seliwyn said.

“They’re collecting obsidian, but to do what? Restore Cyrilia? Or perhaps start another world?” Kam broke off and turned her attention to the king. “Are there other uses? Could an outside source of obsidian be used against Elvenrude?”

Seliwyn frowned. “I’m not sure how. We should consult the mystics, but whatever Jermon intends, there’s one thing he doesn’t know. Modern obsidian—any formed by volcanic eruptions since the birth of man—contains little or no elven magic. Only the oldest surviving pieces going back to what humans refer to as the Cretaceous Period carry its full impact. Unless these stolen artifacts are made from prehistoric finds of black obsidian, they are useless. Colored forms, containing any impurities, have never carried our magic.”

He turned to Kam. “You noted the difference in a report on a retrieval several months ago.”

Kam frowned, thinking back over the last eighteen months. “There was one piece from Turkey that felt different.”

“Yes. It was a small but ancient piece, and I added it to the vault.”

“Your private collection,” she said, suddenly understanding.

Seliwyn smiled.

“What does this all mean for Cyrilia?” Trystan had listened quietly until now. “My father has never mentioned such a vault in our world. Do we have one?”

“At one time I’m sure you did, but it may no longer exist. I’ve puzzled over the situation for weeks, wondering how your source could have failed. My oath forbade any discussion, and I assumed you and your father were under a similar oath of secrecy. But the recent obsidian thefts have been most alarming. It appeared to me that someone already knew the truth. After meditating and agonizing over it the last twenty-four hours, I decided I must approach your father.”

Trystan stared at King Seliwyn. “Did he know any of this?”

“Apparently not. No secret knowledge was passed to him. He said your original founder was killed and the first palace swallowed by an earthquake during Cyrilia’s early formation. Any knowledge or books of knowledge must have been lost at that time, and the bulk of the obsidian destroyed or returned to its core.”

“Then our world is truly doomed.”

“Unless you do what Jermon is doing. Search for more,” Seth said.

Kam flipped out her hand. “Where? Our spotters have found one tiny piece in the last year.” She turned to Seliwyn. “How many additional pieces were found before that?”

“Not many,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t a priority. Elvenrude had no need.” He glanced at Trystan. “I offered my private collection to your father, but it is merely a pittance. The Heart of Ishka weighs twenty pounds. I have less than a pound, and it isn’t nearly as pure or as old.”

“But it’s a start.” Trystan looked more hopeful than Kam had seen him before. “Now that we know what to look for, we will scour the earth. I cannot thank you enough, King Seliwyn. You’ve given us a chance.”

“Only if you get there before Dreysel and Jermon do and stop whatever scheme they’re planning,” Kam said.

Everyone looked at her.

“I doubt it they’re collecting it for anyone’s benefit other than their own,” she said.

“Dreysel’s always wanted to rule Cyrilia.” Trystan looked thoughtful. “But if he restores our homeland, he will have earned the right.”

“At what cost to the rest of us? We’d be at war again.”

Seliwyn turned a grave face to Kam. “What did you find in Greece? Any proof of Jermon? A hint to their plans?”

“Not specifically him, but it has to be. There’s magical residue. We also learned of a break-in at a museum. More obsidian was taken.”

“Their activity is one of the reasons I chose to share Elvenrude’s secret with you. Whatever the renegades are planning, they’re a threat to both existing elven worlds.” Seliwyn frowned at Brunic. “If Jermon is alive, he’s behind much of the unrest at home. Increase your efforts to root out the rebels. Use any and all of our resources. That will allow the others…” he lifted a brow at Kam and Seth, “to work with Prince Trystan to find deposits or artifacts of prehistoric obsidian—and to capture the fugitives. I will rest easier when Jermon Lormarc is back under lock and key.”

“Or dead,” Seth said. “My great-uncle has murdered enough people. He has to be stopped this time—whatever it takes.”

King Seliwyn and Captain Brunic departed for Elvenrude shortly afterward. They were already talking about bringing Kurzi in for questioning. Kam bit her lip, her face clouded with doubt. It might cause more resentment and drive the rebels further underground, but the king was in no mood for diplomacy.

Trystan tapped his chin with two fingers. “I’m struggling to take it all in. It’s unbelievable no one realized our dilemma…and hard to know where to start. Especially without revealing the truth about obsidian to anyone else.”

“I can help with the search,” Kam said. “Our spotters are used to watching for obsidian finds for what the king has always referred to as his private collection. They might think it’s a little odd to shift our focus entirely to obsidian, but I’ll tell them to step up their efforts, especially in Turkey and other places noted for the most ancient finds. Maybe I’ll tell them Seliwyn is considering a major exhibit of his favorite artifacts at our museum. Yes, that sounds good. If they discover anything major, you can send in your own people to retrieve it, and our spotters can grumble about losing another find.” She grinned at him. “You’ll have to figure out your own cover story.”

“Give me a couple of days to get things rolling. I’ll send a few men I trust to search for Dreysel and my brother Tad…and Jermon, of course. And dispatch scouts to look for obsidian. I could build on your story and say we’re using it to trade with Elvenrude for other goods.” Trystan gave Kam a rueful glance. “It’s better than no story. Anyway, I’m personally prepared to help in catching the fugitives. Unless we stop them, the rest of this may be wasted effort.”

With these rough plans decided, Kam and Seth transported back to New Orleans. Seth went to the office to explain the situation to Rhyden and arrange his schedule, knowing the hunt for the fugitives could take him away on short notice for days or weeks at a time.

Kam continued on to Elvenrude to check on Reya and explain their intended activities to King Seliwyn. Afterwards, home. She was nearly dead on her feet. She’d just cleared the portal on the Elvenrude side when her father strode toward her, worry lines marring his usually congenial features.

“Have you talked with Esty lately?” he asked as soon as they’d exchanged a hug.

“Not since we visited Bria with the infant basket. Is something wrong?”

“I’m troubled about her. She took the breakup with Rhyden so badly. Now he’s coming around again. She says they’re just friends, but they’re spending a lot of time together.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “I could talk with him, but that seems like meddling. Would you speak with Esty?”

A sisterly chat? Kam stifled a sigh. How was that not meddling? Esty wouldn’t appreciate it, but she shared her father’s concern. “I can try. She might not listen, and it really is her decision.”

“I hate to see her upset like that again.”

“I know. Girls are a pain…aren’t we?” She grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be fine. But I’ll see what I can find out. If not today, soon. I may be gone a while on the king’s business.”

His expression changed immediately. “Is there a problem?”

“The Cyrilian fugitives have been spotted overseas. We think Jermon is with them, and Seth and I are trying to verify that.”

“Be careful, Kam.” Sawyer Ryndel shook his head. “That man has caused more than his share of trouble.”

Five minutes later, Reya’s battered face was a strong reminder how vicious Jermon and his Cyrilian conspirators could be. Kam’s jaw tightened. How could they have attacked an unarmed woman that way?

“You look worried about me,” Reya said. “But you shouldn’t be. I’m going home tomorrow, and I’ll be back on the job in a couple of days.”

“Not too soon. You’re still pale.”

“I feel better than I look. I know you’re hunting for the renegades. Well, it’s personal for me now. Tomas and I are eager to help.”

“And you can. Focus your efforts on finding them and locating deposits or collections of obsidian. Not only does the king value the black obsidian, apparently the rogues do too. But you must not interfere with them, no matter what they’re doing. I won’t have you hurt again.” Kam’s frown switched to a swift smile. “Your mother would never forgive me.”

After Kam left the Healers’ Temple, she met with King Seliwyn and Brunic, received the king’s approval of their tentative plans, and learned an inquiry summons had already been issued for Kurzi—last name unknown.

“It’s time we dealt decisively with these troublemakers, both in and outside of Elvenrude,” Seliwyn said. “The situation has gotten out of hand.”

Kam blinked. Well, if that wasn’t the biggest understatement she’d ever heard. Sometimes the king seemed to make these pronouncements to convince himself he’d done the right thing.

Before returning to New Orleans, she stopped at her parents’ home to see if Esty was there. She wasn’t. She was out with Rhyden.

Kam had been back in their New Orleans’ condo close to three hours—plenty of time to fall asleep on the couch—by the time the portal dinged, waking her with Seth’s arrival. He leaned down and gave her a kiss.

“I’m beat too. I couldn’t find Rhyden, so I had a lot of arrangements to make for the next few days.”

“He was in Elvenrude with Esty,” she said, sitting up and pushing her tousled hair away from her face.

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know. Father’s worried about it. He says they’re spending more time together than before—almost every afternoon and evening. I don’t want my sister to get hurt again.”

He sat down beside her. “This isn’t like him. Rhyden’s never pursued a woman so persistently. I can’t imagine him leading her on, but if they aren’t dating, what are they doing?”

“I don’t like it,” she grumbled, snuggling against his side. “But I’m too tired to do anything about it tonight.”

“I’ll talk to Rhyden in the morning.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get to bed. We’re going to need all the sleep we can get. If I know Uncle Jermon, we have a long, hard hunt ahead of us.”

* * *

The following morning, Kam placed calls all over the world directing her spotters to change their focus to locating the fugitives and to finding deposits or collections of black obsidian. She also contacted art dealers, inquiring about recent obsidian finds and spreading the rumor of a client paying top dollar. She hoped the money would entice treasure hunters to offer them first options on any finds.

With those tasks done, she headed for Seth’s office. She’d been tempted to divert to Elvenrude to see Esty, but two visits in such a short span of time were bound to raise her sister’s suspicions. Besides, she wanted to hear Rhyden’s explanation first.

Seth was signing paperwork when she arrived. He leaned back with a smile, but it quickly disappeared when she asked how Rhyden had defended his actions.

“He didn’t.” Seth sat forward again and gave her a disgusted look. “I hinted all around it. He lounged, totally at ease in that cushy chair where you’re sitting, and ignored me. I finally asked him directly what was going on between him and Esty.”

“And?”

“He gave me this funny laugh and told me it was none of my business. He seemed entertained I’d asked.” Seth shook his head. “It’s something they don’t want me—or perhaps you—to know, but he didn’t act overly worried. Maybe it’s something silly…like, I don’t know, dancing lessons.”

“Dancing lessons?” She gave him an incredulous look.

“I said like dancing lessons,” he said defensively. “Does it really matter? They’re both adults. He had a point—it isn’t our business.”

“When I get a chance, I’ll make Esty tell me.” Her lips tightened, as she pictured her sister with tear-swollen eyes again. “Rhyden better watch his step.”

CHAPTER SIX

“We’ll have to tell them soon.” Rhyden suppressed a chuckle and peered through the dark at the Ryndel stables directly ahead. The lights were off. As far as he could tell, the workers had gone home for the night. “But it was fun watching him struggle. Obviously Kam had set him up to question me, and he did a poor job of being subtle.”

Esty grinned, then sobered. “She stopped by home the other day when we were out. Should I expect her again soon?”

“You should have a reprieve while they hunt for Jermon.” He’d already told her about the attack on Reya and the mysterious sightings. “Frankly, I’m more concerned about Brunic discovering what we’re doing than Kam. He’d raise a stink for sure. Seth said the Guard’s stepping up its search for the duchaen and whoever is in touch with Jermon.”

“Not Ellyn.”

“Probably not. I wish I’d talked with Seth sooner and gotten Kurzi’s name before we wasted the last two days. At least Ellyn gave you his last name—Everins. Did she say anything else?”

“She didn’t say anything. I got a note with the name. I think she’s avoiding me. She didn’t come to The Bookstore again this morning.”

“Perhaps that’s smart. If you two keep meeting, someone is likely to become suspicious.”

“Of what?” she asked indignantly. “I can have a conversation with anyone I want.”

“Sure you can, but don’t expect people not to notice.” His lips twitched in a struggle between amusement and impatience. “Right now neither of you needs that kind of attention.”

“It’s not right.”

He shrugged. No society was as good as it should be. But then it would never get better without idealists like Esty. He glanced sideways at her pert nose tipped up in defiance. He liked her spirit. Not that he’d tell her so. He was having enough trouble keeping his distance without her flashing that dimpled smile.

“Let’s hurry,” he said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll locate the rebels hanging out at the cousin’s farmhouse and finish your part in this highly questionable scheme tonight. I won’t have much time once Seth leaves town. I’ve been neglecting the business.” He glanced at her again. “You promised you wouldn’t go without me.”

“Only because you agreed to help. If you’re withdrawing from our bargain…”

“I’m not. I’m just saying it won’t be as often.”

They reached the stable, collected their horses, and rode away in near silence.

“I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your precious time,” Esty finally said in a stiff voice.

He turned his head to frown at her. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” She nudged her horse into a gallop.

Rhyden stared after her. Damn the woman. Thank the gods she didn’t suspect his real feelings—an attraction he couldn’t allow himself to pursue. She was too young to be making commitments. He wasn’t ready to settle down either, and he wouldn’t play her false. The thought of marriage and kids…well, it wasn’t in his short-term goals. Not even on the horizon. And sometimes she made him forget that.

He caught up with her quickly but didn’t attempt to break the awkward silence. It eventually dissipated as they rode through the crisp autumn night. There was little wind, and the bright moonlight made it a pleasant ride. Esty began to chat about village events as if her flash of irritation had never happened.

Rhyden relaxed and enjoyed the ride. OK, he enjoyed her company. Who wouldn’t?

“I think the farm is over this next ridge,” he said, reining in his horse and dismounting. “We’re better off on foot from here. There should be plenty of trees near the house to hide us.”

They left their mounts tied to a tree near a small pond and moved through the shadows until the house was in sight. It was small by human standards but luxurious compared with the sod homes of many commoners and crossbreeds. According to the field worker they talked with this afternoon, the house was owned by a commoner who would be Kurzi Everins’s cousin, if Kurzi hadn’t been shunned by his mother’s family.

The cousin had done well for himself to have a wood and stone house, a small outbuilding, and a horse. Rhyden wondered about the source of his funds. If he was a skilled craftsman who might merit larger allotments, Rhyden should have heard about him, and he hadn’t.

So where would he get that kind of money? Jermon, maybe? If he was important to the rebellion, Jermon might pay him enough to cover the bills. A possibility worth pursuing. Brunic should be told about this guy. He glanced at Esty. He’d talk to her again once they were safely away from here.

They edged toward the house and stopped behind a tree about thirty feet from a window revealing the lantern-lighted interior. Perhaps a dozen elves filled the single-room house. Other than two commoners, the rest appeared to have off shades of brown hair, making them duchaen. He squinted in the dim light, hoping to identify a face, some piece of information that would lead to a name, but he couldn’t make out their features.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll take a closer look, and then we’ll go before someone catches us.”

She grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me alone. I’m coming with you.”

He hesitated. Maybe it was safer than trusting her to stay out of trouble. “OK, but stay behind me.”

They crept forward and had almost reached the side of the house when a tall figure slipped around the corner. The man stopped, apparently as shocked at the encounter as they were. Rhyden grabbed Esty’s hand and ran toward the horses. Considering the dozen ruffians inside, they were badly outnumbered, and he didn’t even consider staying to fight or brazen it out. Not with Esty. If the rebels caught them and hurt her…he’d never forgive himself.

Esty hadn’t uttered a sound, her gloved hand clutching his fingers. He stole a glance at her face. She appeared more determined than frightened. Rhyden spotted their horses and angled toward them.

The stranger stepped out of the trees, directly in their path. “What are you doing here?”

“We lost our way.” Rhyden shoved Esty behind him. “We saw the lights and stopped to ask directions. Can you point out the path to Brierwood?”

“If you need directions, why were you leaving?” The crossbreed pushed his dark blond hair away from his face and studied them with intelligent, hazel eyes.

“It looked like we’d be interrupting.” Rhyden kept it casual, but his mind raced trying to place a name with the face. He’d seen the man before. “If you’ll get out of our way, we’ll leave. Sorry we bothered you.”

Rhyden stepped around him, helped Esty mount, and swung up on his own horse. The man still didn’t move, just watched them.

“Don’t you want to know the way to town?” he finally asked with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Back that way about two miles. Turn right at the split oak tree. Don’t come back here. It isn’t safe.”

Rhyden met the man’s gaze for a moment. The lack of hostility surprised him.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He wheeled his stallion, and they rode toward town at a slow gallop. As soon as they were out of sight, he reined his horse into a walk.

“Well, that was exciting,” Esty said. Her face was lightly flushed, her eyes bright.

“Hardly my reaction,” he snapped in a rush of unexpected anger. “I hope you understand now why you can’t go out by yourself. What would have happened if he’d caught you alone?”

Her face darkened. “He didn’t seem that scary. And don’t scold me. I wasn’t alone. What’s your problem?”

“You.” He let out an exasperated breath and dug his heel into his horse’s side. “I’m taking you home.”

* * *

Esty kept up with him, but seeing his grim expression, she clamped her lips in a tight line. She was tired of the awkward silences and always being on her guard. What had happened to the easy companionship they’d shared two months ago? He’d been charming, entertaining. Now he seemed angry with her most of the time. She let out a discouraged sigh. He treated her as an annoying little sister…which wasn’t what she wanted at all.

Their so-called eight months of dating hadn’t been the relationship a girl’s dreams were built on—a good friendship but little else. By the time she’d realized she wanted more, he’d backed off. And now….at times he was distant. Did he realize how much she cared for him? Was that what made him angry?

She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have asked him to help her, wouldn’t have if she’d been thinking with her head rather than her heart. The last few days had only made the situation worse. They didn’t used to snap at one another.

“We have to talk,” he said suddenly, halting his mount when the stable came into sight.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to like this. She already didn’t like his tone. “It’s late. My parents will wonder where we are.”

“This won’t take long. It’s time we passed on the information we have.”

Her relief it wasn’t something personal was instantly replaced with indignation. “You can’t tell Brunic. That wasn’t our plan.”

“It wasn’t your plan,” he corrected. “We can’t continue to conceal things that might halt the violence. I’ll be busy in New Orleans the next two days. Your friend—and her friends—have that length of time to bring the rest of the rebels into line. When I can get back, you and I are going to Brunic and telling him everything.”

Esty pursed her lips in protest. “That isn’t much time.”

“Do you realize how dangerous these people could be—especially if they’re still tied in any way to Jermon? By the gods, Esty, you could get yourself hurt.”

And would you care? Wasn’t this conversation really about getting back to his own life…and out of hers? She looked away, unwilling to show him the tears that hovered behind her casual words. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

Esty woke from a restless night, shoved any lingering thoughts of Rhyden aside, and dressed hurriedly. She had better things to do than wallow in self-pity. Before dawn, she slipped an urgent note under Ellyn’s door to meet in the woods at 10:30. When her friend appeared on schedule, Esty filled her in on yesterday’s events and Rhyden’s deadline.

Ellyn looked puzzled at Esty’s description of the man outside the farmhouse. “Did he tell you his name?”

“No. Do you know him?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to be sure.” Ellyn flashed her a girlish grin. “Kind of hunky?”

“I’ll say. It was impossible to be frightened of those beautiful hazel eyes. Who is he?”

“Um, I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you his name, but you might have met our duchaen leader.”

Esty frowned. “But you said he wasn’t part of the violent group.”

“He isn’t. I know he’s not. I don’t know why he was there, but he had a good reason. I’ll tell him what Rhyden said and meet you back here in the morning. Same time?”

“I suppose,” Esty said doubtfully. “Maybe I should go to Captain Brunic now and make a clean breast of it.”

“Please don’t. Give us the extra time. It’s only two days.” Ellyn’s eyes pleaded with her, and Esty wavered.

After all, wasn’t this the same plea she’d made to Rhyden? “Well, OK. Two days. That gives your friend today and tomorrow. I can’t guarantee anything after that. But I’ll never give them your name unless you tell me to.”

Ellyn squared her shoulders. “I don’t care if you do. As long as they understand I don’t support the fighting. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

Esty grinned. “Of course you’re not, and I’m delighted to call you my friend. You know, if the women were in charge around here, there’d be less trouble.”

That brought on a fit of giggles, and they strolled back toward the village, their anxious mood dispelled for the moment.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kam had never consumed so much coffee. Even her elven constitution complained about the large infusion of caffeine, and she found it hard to sit still. She was up pacing the Ryndel Guild Master’s office, while talking on her phone.

Kam, Seth, and Trystan had spent a busy forty-eight hours—most of it together at the Ryndel Guild—sifting through the myriad of reports and information coming in from her ten spotters and the scouts Trystan had deployed. A picture gradually unfolded, clearly showing the fugitives had been active around the world for at least a couple of months. Fast work in organizing. They’d only been on the run since August.

Based on Kam’s detailed instructions and video from prior sightings of elves cloaked in invisibility magic, the spotters reported previously ignored thefts of artifacts and new unexplained sightings at museums and ruins. In response to two of those reports, the trio transported to Istanbul—where they confirmed a museum intrusion had already taken place—and later to Tel Aviv on an apparent false alarm.

Despite those failures, it was only a matter of time until they had a confirmed live sighting.

Kam smiled as Trystan swore at his phone for the fourth or fifth time during the last hour. The Cyrilian portal had only been open to the human world a few months, and he wasn’t very familiar with the device. He kept accidentally cutting the connection in mid-conversation.

Seth appeared oblivious to both of them. He sat at Barrott’s desk running computer searches on museum break-ins, responding to text and e-mail reports, and reviewing photos from their people in the field.

Kam glanced at the clock on Barrott’s desk and rubbed a weary hand over her face. Six-thirty. She had to get some sleep tonight, but they were all running short. Those doing the legwork understood the importance of stopping the renegade band and were working around the clock to provide the best information they could. Kam increasingly worried another of her young spotters would be hurt and felt an almost compulsive need to stay in constant contact to assure herself they were fine.

She currently had Karel on the line, the female spotter watching the Smithsonian grounds in Washington, DC, in the middle of a cold December rain threatening to turn to sleet and snow. The museum complex had been identified as a probable target due to the large collection of obsidian pre-Columbian masks and tools. Most of the relics were carved from stone that was too modern or too impure to hold elven magic—but Jermon and Dreysel didn’t know that. On a second phone line, Kam was in touch with Tomas near the Saudi lava fields.

“Oh my god!” Karel stifled a shriek. “I think they’re here. Next to the Washington Monument.”

Kam froze in mid-stride. “Stay calm, and tell me what you see.”

Her abrupt tone drew Seth’s and Trystan’s attention. The Cyrilian stood and started toward her.

“Ghostly blurs, fading in and out. Just like on the video,” the spotter reported, her shaky voice betraying her heightened state.

“How close are you?”

“Not very. Maybe half a block.”

“Don’t get any closer or let them see you. Remember they already hospitalized one spotter. But try to watch where they go. We’re on our way. Call me if anything changes.” She spun toward the door. “The Smithsonian,” she said over her shoulder. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and raced toward the portal.

“How many?” Seth leaped into the portal carrying his own jacket with Trystan beside him.

“She couldn’t tell. It’s amazing she even noticed them in the slushy evening rain.”

Within seconds they landed in the darkened sub-office of their export business in DC. Since this was only a sales office, no one was there at this time of night. They exited into the street.

“Damn, it’s cold and wet here,” Seth said, zipping his lightweight coat. He dug in his jeans’ pocket and handed Kam the seeker charm. “You’ll find her quicker if you use this.”

She nodded, pictured Karel in her mind, and turned until the charm began to glow. They activated their invisibility rings and ran in the indicated direction, their elven feet swiftly covering the distance to the National Mall.

It wasn’t a heavy rain, mostly an annoying sleet that melted on impact, but it was right on the temperature curve toward ice and snow. Another few degrees and it could turn into a problem. A light fog gave an eerie look to the statues and monuments. Even in this weather, several tourists wandered the area with heavy coats, ponchos, and umbrellas, determined not to waste their chance to view the famous landmarks. Due to the human presence, no one spoke until they located Karel huddled in the meager shelter of a tree near the sculpture garden. She jumped when they suddenly decloaked beside her.

“Gosh, you startled me.” She turned and pointed. “They went inside the Museum of Natural History. I already checked the Smithsonian website and brought up a map of the interior.” She handed Kam her phone and pointed to the screen. “There’s a special exhibit, including some obsidian statuary on the second floor.”

“Excellent work. Stay here and keep watch. Call me if they leave.” Kam and the two men studied the map a few seconds, then took off across the wide lawn. The museum had closed for the night, but Seth was a master at manipulating locks, and the absence of blaring sirens proved the renegade band had already found a way to silence the alarms. In any case, Kam didn’t have time to contact local authorities or worry about unauthorized access. They reached the front entrance and a moment later were inside next to the huge, simulated stone platform and African elephant that dominated the rotunda.

“I’m going up.” Kam pointed to the upper balconies, flexed her knees, and vaulted to the second floor using the ancient magic in her silver wristband. Seth teleported beside her via the Lormarc ring, leaving Trystan to find his own way. With his natural elven speed, he wouldn’t be far behind them.

They turned toward the southeast corner, which held the geology exhibits. Seth took the left side, she took the right. She passed the exhibit for the Hope diamond and stopped to peek inside. The priceless gem sat safely in the middle of its enclosure. Obviously the fugitives weren’t looking for monetary value. She moved on, skimming the glass showcases with her eyes, until she heard Seth call.

“Over here. They’ve already gotten what they came for.”

Trystan arrived almost as soon as she did, and they stared at two circular six-inch holes cut in the glass of a large, round display case. The special obsidian exhibit stood next to the permanent collection of volcanic rock. Many of the exhibit’s items were missing, leaving nothing except bare spots and small plaques. The pieces chosen appeared haphazard, as if the thieves had been in a hurry and grabbed whatever they could.

Kam’s phone buzzed.

“They just came out of the building,” Karel said.

“Where?”

“Front entrance.”

Kam had already vaulted over the balcony and was outside by the time Karel finished talking. She spotted the shadowy images ahead and started after them.

Seth fell in step beside her, his voice low. “No guns, unless necessary. I’d like to avoid the DC police, and our bows are much quieter.”

Something alerted the shadowy figures to their pursuit—or they were already spooked by seeing Kam and her companions inside the museum—and the fugitives suddenly bolted, fleeing past the Washington Monument and alongside the Reflecting Pool toward the Lincoln Memorial.

The humans on the mall grounds remained unaware of the intense, invisible chase going on around them, not even raising their heads as fugitives and pursuers sped past.

Kam glanced behind. Trystan had been delayed by the museum’s stairs, but he was a strong runner and not far behind. If she and Seth cornered the renegades, he’d be there to back up the capture.

But the rogue gang had other ideas. Two of them split off and cut behind the Vietnam Memorial Wall, the other three continued straight ahead and dashed up the fifty-eight steps of the massive temple sheltering Lincoln’s marble statue. Seth broke to the right and followed the two behind the Wall.

Kam bounded up the steps, skidded on the slippery marble at the top, and slowed to a walk just outside the entrance of the Lincoln Memorial. Lights were on inside and out; a sign noted it was open for viewing twenty-four hours a day. A National Park Ranger sat off to her left, and an older couple stood reading one of the inscriptions on the walls.

No elves. At least none visible. There didn’t seem to be many places to hide, except two open side rooms and what appeared to be a small gift shop. She peeked around the corner into the back of the side rooms first. Each had a maintenance door she assumed was locked to avoid unauthorized entry by the curious; an elevator door was on the left side. She turned and almost bumped into Trystan coming through the front entrance.

“Anything?” he asked so quietly she barely heard him.

“Not yet.”

A family of three came out of the gift shop, and Kam walked in that direction. It was the only concealed area on this level.

A loud oof came from behind her. She whirled to see Trystan’s shadowy figure hit the floor. She bent to help him, and an arrow whizzed over her head and thudded against the wall. The mother in the tourist family let out a screech. Kam heard someone mutter, “Idiot,” then the scurrying of feet moving quickly away as the Park Ranger shouted.

“Who did that? Everybody move outside, but watch your step.” The family rushed to the exit.

Trystan sprang to his feet, apparently unharmed. He dodged the exiting tourists and followed three shadowy figures moving away from the statue toward the elevator. Kam hesitated, tempted to grab the arrow and leave the Ranger with no tangible evidence of the incident, but Seth shouted her name from somewhere outside. She looked between the pillars. The fugitives who’d split off had circled around the Vietnam Memorial and were headed back toward her, Seth’s shadowy figure still in pursuit.

Oh, great, the tourists were right in the way.

Kam ran to the top of the main steps, leaving Trystan to deal with those going down the elevator. Seth had gained on the two figures he chased, but one broke toward the lower level handicapped entrance, and the other charged up the steps. Seth concentrated on the lower level; Kam braced to intercept the cloaked elf charging the stairs.

She glanced at the elderly couple making their way down the icy steps. An umbrella kept their heads dry, but they picked their way, carefully choosing each step. They were off to the side and should be clear of the conflict.

But instead of confronting Kam, the elf swerved and deliberately slammed into the old couple, knocking the woman off the end of the steps toward the lower level and sending the man and his umbrella tumbling forward.

Frightened screams ripped through the air, and Kam’s blood pounded in her ears. She sprang into the air, grabbed the old man around the shoulders, and broke his fall inches before his head would have struck the marble steps. Seth slid to a halt and caught the shrieking woman in his arms. The elf who’d nearly killed them jumped off the steps, landing less than five feet from Seth, and disappeared after his friend into the handicapped entrance.

By the time Kam and Seth set the elderly man and woman on their feet, the couple was nearly hysterical with fright. The woman flailed her arms at the invisible hands that had saved her. The Park Ranger rushed down the steps in answer to her screams, a squawking police radio in his hands. The lights of a mall police car already raced toward them.

Damn. This had gone bad so quickly.

Kam and Seth ducked into the lower entrance and swiftly searched the small rooms. No one—but the elevator appeared to be in use. Kam punched the buttons in frustration.

“Where’s Trystan? I’ll go around and head them off—”

The elevator swooshed open, and Trystan stepped out.

“Where’d they go?” Seth demanded.

“Transported. Through a temporary portal.” Trystan stepped back into the elevator, crouched, and patted the floor. “Feel this. They’ve erased the cross key symbols you use, but you can feel the residual magic. They must have set it up for a fast escape before they attempted the theft.” He looked up. “Exceptional planning.”

“Yeah, sounds like Uncle Jermon,” Seth said in disgust. He leaned over and touched the floor surface. “Not much trace left, but the portal itself proves he was here.”

Kam suppressed an urge to kick the wall. Sure it did. The Cyrilians didn’t use cross keys or temporary portals. “Nothing we can do now except get out of here. This area is going to be crawling with police, and the Ranger has an arrow to prove it wasn’t someone’s imagination.”

She looked out the door. In the last couple of minutes, the icy rain had turned to snow. The elderly couple sat on the steps, huddled under their broken umbrella. The Ranger spoke to them in a quiet voice, attempting to calm them. The woman continued to sob loudly, but approaching lights indicated the EMTs were on the way. Kam stepped out far enough to see the upper floor. Two officers were searching for intruders and would soon check the lower level.

“I think this is our chance,” she said over her shoulder.

They ran across the open lawn, the brown grass squishy underfoot from snow and slush. They kept up a swift pace until they’d reached the city sidewalks that led into the downtown district and the Ryndel sales office. As soon as possible, they slipped into a darkened alley and decloaked.

Kam sighed in relief at the sight of her companions. “I really hate to use the invisibility magic for long periods of time. You can’t see other cloaked individuals very well, and you can’t talk for fear of scaring people. We’ve already done enough of that tonight.” She shook her head. “That poor couple.”

“At least they’re safe and uninjured with quite a story to tell.” Seth shook the snow off his hair. “I’m more concerned about leaving the arrow behind. If we’re lucky, they’ll eventually conclude it was some kid prank.”

“There’s only one government guy who could tell them different,” she said. “He’s a couple thousand miles away.” Agent Noah Crain, her CIA sometimes-handler in New Orleans, had seen a Cyrilian arrow before. To Kam’s knowledge, he was the only human who knew the elves existed. She turned to look at Trystan. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“I’m trying to understand what happened back there. And absorb the fact my brother is alive. It was Tad who tackled me.” Trystan wrinkled his forehead. “I think he intended to save me from being shot by the arrow.”

Kam looked at Seth and shrugged.

“You think it’s wishful thinking?” Trystan asked, catching the exchange. “Maybe so, but he knocked me down without trying to harm me. What other reason would he have?”

“Getting away. But at least you know he’s alive. The news should cheer King Radnor.”

Trystan sighed. “Yes. My father’s health has been up more than down since King Seliwyn’s visit. He has hope for Cyrilia again, but his days are numbered. This will ease his mind.” The prince gave them a rueful look. “I was so angry with Tad. He betrayed me, plotted against me. But I have to admit his survival pleases me.”

“It’s natural. He’s still your brother.” Kam loved her sister and would forgive her for anything. Of course, Esty wouldn’t test the limits by conspiring to kill her.

When Seth said nothing, Kam glanced at his grim face. His great-uncle had survived too. But no joy there. There’d never been any love lost between Jermon Lormarc and the rest of their clan. He’d always had a nasty disposition and a cruel kink in his behavior. Mass murder nearly a year ago had firmly placed him beyond the loyalty of family ties.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Esty paced the family sitting room of her parents’ home. She’d just returned from The Bookstore, and Ellyn had failed to appear again. It had been two days since she’d promised to meet. Was she in some kind of trouble? Esty hadn’t heard any alarming gossip, but what could have kept her friend away? Was Ellyn’s absence connected to the rebels? She bit her lower lip. Had she made a mistake not telling Captain Brunic about the meeting at the farmhouse?

She peered out the front window, scanning the swinging walkways of wood and hemp that connected the tree house homes. Except for three children tossing pieces of bread over the side to wildlife on the forest floor below, the suspended paths were deserted.

Where was Rhyden? He said he’d be back by now so they could talk with Brunic together. Too restless to wait any longer, she went to the kitchen where her mother was baking breads and pies for the solstice party and grabbed a woven basket.

Meotta Ryndel looked up. “Going to the market? I have a few items I need.”

Relieved to have a specific errand, Esty waited for the list and set out, despite the chilling wind that might have discouraged her another day.

The vendors weren’t very busy at midweek, and it didn’t take her long to collect her mother’s purchases or to find the silver locket she wanted for Kam. She’d seen the necklace a few weeks ago and thought it would make a perfect promise gift. Kam could have Seth’s photo taken in New Orleans and keep it inside. She smiled at the heart-shaped, finely etched trinket. Her sister would love it.

As Esty shopped, she watched for Ellyn or even her friend’s mother. Neither woman was present. Nor did she see the stranger from the woods, although she hadn’t expected to since the women usually did the shopping. Even village rumors were at a disgustingly low ebb. What a bust this trip had been.

Discouraged, she left the market and fought the blustery wind as she trudged down the path toward the raised walkway home. As she passed a grove of trees, someone touched her shoulder, and she jumped, ready to flee.

“Esty, it’s me.”

If she hadn’t spoken, Esty might not have recognized her heavily bundled friend. She clutched Ellyn’s arm. “Where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Sorry. My father heard I’d met with some of the rebels. He’s afraid for me—for our family—and forbade me to leave the house. He’s gone today, and mother is more sympathetic, especially when I told her I had to see you. But I don’t have much time.” She glanced around furtively as if she expected her father to be lurking somewhere.

“Surely you don’t think he followed you.”

“No, but his friends would tell him if they saw me.” Ellyn shrugged, then grinned. “Well, what can he do? Chain me to the bed? Even father isn’t that archaic. OK, here’s what I came to tell you. I saw…um, our leader right after we last met. He wasn’t happy you’ve involved yourself in duchaen business, but since you have, he wants to meet with you and Rhyden before you go to Brunic. You haven’t talked to the captain yet, have you?”

“Only because I haven’t seen Rhyden. I don’t know when he’s coming.”

“Can you get a message to him and ask him to come tonight?”

“I suppose I could,” Esty said reluctantly, “but why? What’s your mysterious leader want?”

“More time.”

Esty blew out a cold breath. “I don’t think Rhyden would agree. Besides, how do we know it’s safe to meet him?”

“You think this is a trap?” Ellyn’s face pinched with distress. “Esty, I would never do that to you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, but I don’t trust him. I don’t even know who he is.”

Ellyn sighed. “He said you’d say that, but he wants to introduce himself. I think he’s afraid you’ll just turn him in to the Guard and not show up. You met him in the woods. He didn’t try to hurt you, did he?”

“So that was him.” Esty was intrigued, but she hated to admit it. “There were two of us and one of him. He could bring others with him this time.”

“I trust him,” Ellyn said.

Esty studied her friend’s face, the nose and cheeks red from the cold but the dark brown eyes steady. “OK, I’ll try, but no guarantees, and I won’t meet him alone. Since our workers go home at dark, we could talk privately at the stables around seven. If we’re not there by seven fifteen, we’re not coming. Either because I couldn’t get a hold of Rhyden, or he refused to meet.”

“Thank you.” Ellyn clasped both her gloved hands. “I wish I could be there too, but my father will be home long before then. I’d never be able to sneak past him.”

“It’s OK. I’ll have Rhyden with me.”

Ellyn’s lips quirked. “Which is something else we need to talk about one of these days. I thought you two were over and done. Yet he’s been around a lot lately.”

Esty shrugged. She was tired of people hinting, not very subtly, at the same question. Despite her own feelings, they were just friends. How she hated that word, but she said it without cringing. “We’re friends. Nothing else to talk about. At first, he helped me so I wouldn’t get into trouble while nosing around on my own.” Esty grinned. “Now I think he hates to confess to Seth and Kam he’s been helping me.”

Ellyn brushed the hair out of her face and gave her a teasing smile. “If you say so. We should get out of the cold before we freeze. I’ll relay the message. Please be there.”

“I’ll really try.” Esty watched her friend hurry away, then pulled her cloak tight and turned toward home.

* * *

Rhyden leaned one hip against his office desk and stared at the handwritten note. After handling Esty so badly the other night, he was surprised to hear from her…and he definitely wasn’t ready.

He’d been plagued by thoughts of what could have happened if she’d been outside that farmhouse by herself. She was so sweet, so innocent, and didn’t realize how tempting she was. But he’d made of mess of it that night. Acting like an angry older brother, ordering her around. In his weaker moments, that was far from the role he’d imagined.

He’d stayed away from her for two whole days, and now she was luring him back. It wasn’t as if he didn’t intend to return, but he’d wanted a little more time and distance—to quit thinking about her, wondering what she was doing and if she’d noticed he hadn’t been around.

He sighed heavily and dropped the note on the polished walnut desktop. Well, he couldn’t let her go to this meeting alone. He was out of excuses, since Seth had returned from DC late last night. So, what the hell? He could manage an hour with Esty, and then he was done. He’d make it clear he wouldn’t be back this time.

He picked up a fresh note card embossed with a silver L and penned a response.

I’ll be there at 6:30.

Rhyden

To the point, nothing left to interpretation. He placed it in the portal and sent it to Elvenrude before he thought up another excuse to put this off. If he didn’t appear, she might go alone…despite her promise…and he couldn’t bear to think of her in danger without him to protect her.

Rhyden rubbed the back of his neck and walked over to the wide windows displaying the morning cityscape. Actually, this meeting might be a good idea. He’d learn the name of the rebel leader to pass on to Brunic. But there could be an even bigger benefit. He suspected the guy intended to warn them off, and if that convinced Esty to get her nose out of the rebellion’s affairs, Rhyden would end up owing him. Her—and his—involvement could be over tonight. Rhyden’s lips twitched into a grin. And he’d never have to admit his lapse in judgment to Seth or Kam. On that positive note, he turned his attention to the import/export business.

* * *

Promptly at 6:30, Rhyden climbed the swinging walkway and knocked on the door of Esty’s home. Sawyer Ryndel opened it and invited him in.

“We haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” her father said. “Been busy?”

“Guild business. It’s kept me tied to my desk.” But Rhyden shot him a quizzical look. Was he probing for information? Seth was still doing it too. They’d had a very uncomfortable conversation a few hours ago. His current behavior must look odd, and eventually he’d have to give some explanation. By that time, he hoped this was far behind them.

Esty came into the room, dressed in jeans and a lacy blue blouse. It matched her eyes. She looked nice, then she smiled. Damn that dimple. That’s what had gotten him into this mess.

“How charming to see you,” she said. As if she hadn’t written and nearly demanded his presence. “Shall we go for a walk? I’m dying for some fresh air.”

“I thought we might chat a while,” her father said.

Esty grabbed her cloak. “Oh, Father. I’ve been stuck inside all day, and I feel a little overheated. I think a walk might make me feel better.” She urged Rhyden toward the door. “You and I can have a nice talk when I return. I’m sure we won’t be gone long.”

Sawyer lifted a brow, but apparently realizing he’d been out maneuvered, he only said, “Have a good time.”

Rhyden avoided her father’s gaze. Esty wasn’t a very good liar. But she was brazen about it.

“You could have said something,” she hissed the moment they were outside.

“Like what?” Rhyden spread his hands helplessly. “Do you know how bad this all looks? As if I’m trifling with you. Seth came close to warning me off this afternoon.” He frowned at her. “You and this secrecy about our activities are giving me a terrible reputation.”

“Phooey. Men thrive on bad reputations.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Oh, come on. Let’s get this over with.” He broke convention by walking off, leaving her to follow.

“Rhyden Lormarc.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You can at least act like a gentleman. Come back here and give me your arm. I’m not going to chase after you.”

He turned on his heels and came back to her side. “Maybe if you’d act like a lady I wouldn’t forget,” he muttered.

She didn’t respond to this grumbling, and they walked to the stables in silence.

It was cold and damp. No wonder her father had been skeptical about their evening walk. A brisk wind swirled around them, and Rhyden kept his arm firmly locked with hers to keep her slender figure steady. It brought their bodies into close contact, making him more aware of her than he wanted to be.

He stole a glimpse at her face. What was she thinking? At twenty-three, Esty was barely more than a sheltered child, not the typical mature woman he spent his nights with. He should never have gotten involved…and certainly wouldn’t do it again. The sooner he was away from temptation the better.

At the door of the stables, she picked up a lantern and lit it, the glow revealing several horses loosely tied to rails along the sides. Her mare lifted her head from a pile of hay and nickered. Esty stopped and rubbed her horse’s nose.

“Not tonight, girl.” She turned toward Rhyden. “Do you think he’ll come?”

“I certainly hope so after you’ve dragged me here from New Orleans.” His edgy tone hid his real concern the rebel leader wouldn’t come alone. Rhyden fingered the pistol in his jacket pocket. It was illegal to bring it into Elvenrude—and he’d had to manipulate the portal to do it—but he couldn’t risk Esty being harmed by a band of ruffians.

A sound from the other end of the stable brought him spinning around. A tall figure strolled toward them. Rhyden angled his body so a solid wall was at his back and he could see both ends of the horse shelter.

The lantern light illuminated the dark blond hair and hazel eyes of the stranger they’d seen outside the farmhouse. He spoke to Esty first. “Thank you for meeting with me. Ellyn speaks well of you as her friend.” His gaze moved to Rhyden, and he held out his hand. “My name is Merik Trevain. Sorry for being so mysterious, but I wanted a chance to talk with you before you brought in the Guard to arrest me.”

Rhyden eyed him a moment. “I’ll defer the handshake until we know each other better. Are you alone?”

Trevain let his hand drop. “Very much so. I hope to win you over, not kill you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Rhyden said dryly. He raised a brow. “So, why are we here? I’ve heard you’re recruiting others to your cause, but surely you don’t expect us to join you.”

A smile flickered across Trevain’s lips. “That indeed would be a major coup, but no, all I ask is additional time, a chance to clear our own ranks before you bring in the Guard. This splinter group—originally formed by your great-uncle, by the way—is hurting our legitimate cause. We want them caught and punished—”

“Then you should welcome Captain Brunic’s help,” Rhyden said.

Trevain shook his head. “Not yet. The hardcore group has surrounded itself with others who are merely angry and confused. These fringe members can be brought back into our movement. I’m sure of it. In fact, I’ve already convinced three of them. There’s no reason to ruin the others’ lives…and their families’ lives.”

“Ellyn has made me understand how badly her people are treated.” Esty placed a slim, gloved hand on Rhyden’s sleeve. “Imagine what would happen if they were labeled traitors.”

Rhyden resisted reminding her they were traitors. He glanced at her hand, the warmth filtering through his jacket. He didn’t need the distraction, but he wasn’t about to move it. When his gaze moved to her face, she reacted as if she sensed something and withdrew her hand.

Trevain pressed on. “That night at the farmhouse is the first time I’ve located one of their meetings. If I can identify more of them, I’ll approach them one by one. But that takes time.”

“Surely you know who they are.” Rhyden’s voice revealed his skepticism. “Didn’t you recognize them at the meeting?”

“It disbanded while I was talking with you. I got back just in time to see the three I mentioned. And talking with them made me hopeful I can pull out everyone except the center seven or eight.”

“Who are the hardcore members? Couldn’t Brunic take them into custody?” Esty asked.

“Kurzi Everins is the only solid name I have. I suspect others but not enough to give up their names. If the Guard arrests them without enough evidence to hold them, they’ll go underground, and we’ll never know what they’re doing or who else they recruit.”

During this last exchange, Rhyden glanced toward the far end of the stables. Was that a sound outside or just the horses? Maybe Trevain’s horse was getting restless.

“So you’re offering nothing in return for our silence,” Rhyden said. “Not a very good deal from my point of view.”

“If I’m successful, I’ll remove most of the group before it turns into a fight.” Trevain narrowed his eyes. “Maybe that isn’t what you want. Would you rather kill us?”

“That’s an absurd thing to say.” Esty sounded angry.

“Killing isn’t my thing.” Rhyden kept his cool, his eyes never leaving the other man’s face. “If you’re asking what I think of your duchaen cause, I support it in theory. No one’s birth should limit his choices in life. But I can’t support the chaos and violence. And I’m not yet convinced the rest of you are ready to work for something better, to do more than complain about it.”

Trevain’s eyes flashed. “Don’t mistake caution for lack of will. You don’t understand their hesitancy, because you’ve never been denied anything. But fair enough. I’ll prove it to you. I just need a few extra days.”

Before Rhyden could respond, Captain Brunic strode in the west door, leading his horse. “What in Hades is going on in here?” His broad face hardened, his eyes full of suspicion. “I saw Trevain leaving the village and followed, thinking he’d take me to the rebel stronghold. I never expected to end up here. What’s the meaning of this, Lormarc?”

Rhyden had reacted to the first jingle of harness by stepping in front of Esty. Then he recognized the captain. He met Trevain’s startled look with a nod of warning and turned to face Brunic. “I don’t understand your question. You’re interrupting a business discussion.”

Brunic snorted. “At night, in a stable. I hardly think so.”

Rhyden lifted a brow and gave a slow, deliberate shrug. “It was convenient, since I was coming to see Esty. The stable may seem strange to you, but we needed absolute secrecy to discuss a potential merger of our guilds. You can imagine the talk if it became public knowledge, and I hope you won’t mention it to anyone until a final decision is made.”

“I don’t care about your business arrangements…if that’s what this is. Why are you here?” Brunic asked, frowning at Esty.

“Representing the Ryndel interest,” Rhyden said smoothly.

“I’ve decided to pay more attention to the business,” Esty said, following his lead. “My father doesn’t think I’m serious, but I hoped to convince him if I could talk knowledgeably about the merger. It’s not a closed deal, and Ryndel might make our own offer.” She smiled sweetly at Rhyden. “Just because my sister intends to wed a Lormarc, the competition between our guilds isn’t over.”

“What do you have to say about this?” Brunic finally looked at Trevain. It wasn’t surprising he’d left the crossbreed until last. Brunic was a fearless leader of the Guard and loyal to a fault to king and country, but tolerance and adapting to change were not among his better traits.

Trevain’s tone was mild but unapologetic. “It’s a possible plan among several for the future of our guild. But frankly, I can’t see how it concerns you.”

Brunic looked at the three of them, clearly suspicious but stymied by their consistent stories. He focused on Rhyden and Esty. “I hope this is as innocent as you say. Rhyden, I expect to see you in my office in the morning.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Rhyden said, thinking rapidly. He wanted time for Brunic’s suspicions to fade and to get his own thinking in order. Brunic’s attitude had annoyed him just enough to grant Trevain the time he wanted. “I have pending business that won’t wait. But I’ll make a point of seeing you within the next few days. Will that be timely enough?”

“I guess so.” Brunic’s face belied the words. He might be the commanding officer of the Guard, where Rhyden held special agent status, but they both knew he wouldn’t alienate a member of the powerful Lormarc Guild without more than unsubstantiated suspicion. “Goodnight, Esty. I’ll let you get back to your, um, negotiations.” He led his horse outside, mounted, and rode away.

“That was very clever of you.” Esty gave Rhyden a bright smile that showed her dimple.

“Thank you.” Only Esty would praise him for his ability to lie. He turned to Trevain. “Here’s the deal. I’ll give you five days—I can avoid Brunic that long—but only on certain conditions.”

“Name them.”

“You’ll keep me advised of your efforts in locating these rebels, and you turn over the names of anyone you’re unsuccessful in converting. And lastly, you keep Esty out of it. I don’t want her placed at risk again.”

“You can’t speak for me,” she protested.

“He can on this subject,” Trevain said. “I don’t want you in the middle of this either.”

“You can’t stop me…either of you.”

Rhyden ignored her. “What about the other conditions?”

“I don’t like them, but I’ll do it. Brunic’s intervention at this point would ruin everything.”

“So we’re agreed.” Rhyden stuck out his hand.

Trevain’s lips twitched, but he clasped Rhyden’s hand and shook it once. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned and walked out. They heard the sound of horse’s hoofs galloping away a few moments later.

“I didn’t agree to any of this,” Esty said immediately.

“We’ll talk about it on the way back. I’m sure your father is already wondering where we are.”

They argued the entire time. Esty became so angry that she shook off his arm and stalked beside him. “I am not a child. Can’t you get that through your thick skull? I want to help these people. Ellyn’s my friend, not yours.”

“What more do you want to do? We’re better leaving the hunt to Trevain.”

“He has a job which prevents him from listening to village gossip. I’m not talking about sneaking around at night. Just keeping my eyes and ears open during my daily activities.”

He gave her a sideways look. “I know you, Esty. You’ll go nosing around, start asking questions. You’ll eventually draw someone’s attention. Brunic, if no one else. You could interfere with the very cause you want to help.”

“Do you have to sound so reasonable?” she demanded sharply. “OK, but you can at least keep me updated on what’s going on.”

He looked away. Not going to happen. These frequent meetings had to stop. All her vehemence and pouting only made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her. He sighed. “I can’t be running over here all the time just to satisfy your curiosity. I don’t expect Trevain to report that often.”

“Then what can I expect?” she asked as they stopped in front of her door.

It opened, saving Rhyden from answering her question, but Sawyer Ryndel filled the doorway and quickly presented an even larger problem. “It’s time the two of you explained yourselves.”

Aw, hell. Tonight appeared to be full of unexpected moments.

Rhyden found his voice first. “I’m not sure I understand, sir. I’m sorry we were gone so long.”

“Oh, father, were you worried?” Esty recovered and threw her arms around her father. “We were talking and lost track of time.”

“Now, Esty, you know that isn’t what I meant—”

“Have you heard about the break-in at the Smithsonian?” Rhyden asked, latching onto the first topic he thought might divert the older man. “Jermon Lormarc appears to be alive.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Sawyer’s face immediately darkened. “What exactly happened? Has the king been told?”

They stepped inside, and Rhyden explained what Seth and Kam had reported. The news appeared to consume the older man’s attention, and a few minutes later Rhyden made his escape without getting into his and Esty’s activities. Sawyer would eventually remember, which gave Rhyden a third reason…behind Esty and Brunic…to avoid Elvenrude for the next few days.

He hurried through bitter cold toward the portal and the warmer weather of New Orleans. Sawyer’s worried face had brought him to his senses, and he regretted every moment of tonight. Even worse, he saw no easy way out. One thing was clear: he had to confide in Seth. His activities now involved the Lormarc name. Seth had a right to know if their reputation could be further tainted by another family member being on the wrong side of the law. Damn. If Esty hadn’t been there when Brunic recruited him for that first raid, none of this would have happened.

And he wouldn’t be thinking about a certain smile and melting blue eyes.

He reached the guild, stepped through the portal, and exited into the human world. Rhyden flexed his shoulders and drew in a deep breath of New Orleans’ mild weather. Talking to Seth would be good. They’d been raised like brothers. Seth would understand, and there wasn’t anything they couldn’t solve together.

* * *

Rhyden arrived at work early the next morning, anxious to unburden himself. Seth might be pissed, but it wouldn’t end their affection for each other. Rhyden paced his office and watched the clock. It was nearly ten. Seth was never this late.

Fifteen minutes later Seth walked in the door of Rhyden’s office with a coffee cup in one hand and a small box in the other. “I heard you were looking for me. I just had to show you what I bought Kam for our promise ceremony.”

Holy hell. Rhyden had forgotten all about tomorrow night. He had to get out and make a purchase or two of his own. Why hadn’t Esty reminded him?

Seth set his coffee cup down and opened the lid of the box, holding it out. Rhyden leaned forward to admire the contents—two silver ear piercings to scroll along the rim of the ear. Each was set with a small blue sapphire, the Ryndel family stone.

“They’re beautiful,” Rhyden said. And he meant it. He couldn’t help imagining how such a pair might also look striking on Esty’s slightly more pixyish face. He lifted his brow at Seth. “Good thing you’re a rich man. These must have set you back a pretty penny.”

Seth grinned. “She’s worth every penny and more.” He set the box down, picked up his coffee again, and dropped into a chair. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t wait to get married. The next year will be a very long one. At least tomorrow night will be the official beginning.” He shook his head with a wistful smile. “You know, we’d be married by now if misunderstandings and the Cyrilians hadn’t delayed our engagement. Nothing and no one is going to stop us this time.”

“If they try, I assume it’s my duty as your witness to challenge them to a duel.”

“You bet.” Seth stood and picked up the earring box. “I have a billion things to do yet. I want tomorrow to go smoothly.”

“What can I do to help?”

Seth looked at him with a roguish grin. “Oh, I have a list for you.”

Rhyden laughed. “Bring it on.”

“I’ll be back with it in a little while.” Seth stopped just short of the door. “I almost forgot. What did you want to see me about?”

“With all this talk of romance, it’s slipped my mind. Nothing important.”

CHAPTER NINE

The morning of the Winter Solstice and Kam’s promise day dawned bright and sunny. She’d spent the night at her parent’s home in Elvenrude, and the first thing she did on waking was check outside. The December weather had cooperated. The brisk wind of the last few days had calmed, adding only a pleasant crispness to the air. She smiled as she stood on the walkway and blew out a moist breath to test the temperature. Only a slight fogginess. It would be a fabulous day.

At six that night their guests—a mixture of Lormarcs and Ryndels, including Captain Brunic, plus Caleb and Bria, and Prince Trystan—assembled around three long tables set up in her parents’ home and decorated with yew branches, holly, bittersweet, and white candles.

Kam looked at Seth across the table from her and smiled. He looked gorgeous tonight in a hunter green jacket over a black T-shirt and black jeans. Just enough of the bad boy peeking through to make her heart flutter. His green eyes gleamed whenever their gaze met.

It wasn’t a formal affair, but the women wore feminine blouses or even dresses, and the men had replaced sweatshirts with sporty jackets. So far the evening had been just as she’d hoped. Both families were congenial and the food and wine perfect.

She caught Seth’s gaze again. Almost time. In a few minutes they’d make the announcement and say the traditional words that began a formal binding. She tingled with anticipation. It had been a long time coming in a year filled with intervening events. It was finally their night.

Seth stood, his eyes finding hers and dancing with promises. He held out his hand over the table. Kam pushed her chair back and went to meet him, their eyes remaining locked as she circled the end of the table—and stopped at a loud knock on the front door.

She gave Seth a laughing shrug. Another short delay. A late comer. But she couldn’t imagine who it might be. She turned toward the door to let their guest in, but her father got there first. Guild Master Barrott burst into the room. His frantic gaze found Kam.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have the makings of a disaster. Thanks be to the gods you’re all here. Prince Trystan’s brother has been taken into custody by Mexican border guards.” He looked at the Cyrilian prince. “I’m afraid he’s also been shot.”

Guests bounded to their feet, and the room erupted into a jumble of voices expressing shock and alarm. Having an elf captured by human authorities was among their worst nightmares. Their blood, DNA, and organ placement were unique.

“Is he alive?” Trystan demanded.

“Yes, sir. He is.”

Kam gave an encouraging nod to Trystan, but like the others, her first thought hadn’t been for his brother’s welfare. Far from it. It was bad enough Prince Tadeous was a traitor to his people, but his present captivity placed all of elvenkind at risk of discovery by humanity.

“He must be retrieved…swiftly,” Brunic said. His words were echoed around the room.

“Where is he exactly?” Kam asked. “And how do we know any of this?”

“Juarez. Just south of El Paso, Texas. Apparently he gave the authorities your name, Kam, and our guild address.”

Smart thinking. But not what she’d expect from him. Turning himself in? Almost as if Tad had put protecting his race before himself. She grimaced. Not likely. He had some kind of angle.

Seth, Trystan, and several guests crowded around Barrott with additional questions, but Kam had heard all she needed for now. She edged out of the crowd and ran to the bedroom, found the Guard bag she carried everywhere, and quickly changed into her duty clothes—an all black, form-fitting outfit, a narrow scarf, and black, hooded jacket. Kam was adding her weapons and magic items when Esty came in.

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yes, it’s my job.” Kam clasped her silver band on her right wrist. It enhanced all her natural abilities of speed, strength, and rapid healing. A dagger went into her boot, the elven crossbow concealed in her hood.

“What about your ceremony? Can’t you finish your promise vows before you go?”

“There’s no time. If we don’t get Tadeous out of human hands, we might not have a future to worry about.” She gave Esty a quick hug. “Don’t fret about the party. Seth and I have each other. The formalities have waited this long. They can wait a little longer. Wish me luck?”

“Always. And be careful.”

When Kam returned to the sitting room, the men had finished arguing over who should go. It seemed obvious to her. She grabbed Seth’s arm and nodded to Trystan. Both men had already shed their nice jackets, and Sawyer had supplied each with a hooded replacement.

Less than fifteen minutes after Barrott's arrival, they said a quick good-bye and raced toward the portal. Seth and Kam picked up their guns from the safe at the Ryndel Guild before leaving New Orleans. They transported into El Paso, Texas, and then used the invisibility rings to cross the long border bridge into Juarez, Mexico.

Even in December, the Juarez night was mild and warm in contrast to Elvenrude. They quickly located the border patrol substation on the outskirts of town where they believed Tad was held. Barrott had asked the authorities to keep him there until someone brought his passport and identification. The officer he’d talked to had also mentioned a fine, which Barrott interpreted as a bribe, and he’d implied it would be generous.

The money would have been no problem, but they hadn’t had time to forge the necessary documents. They needed an alternate plan and stopped in the shadows of a dingy shack, one of dozens in the surrounding shantytown. A skinny dog came out to sniff at them, then slinked away.

“Do we just barge in there?” Trystan asked, gesturing toward the small, one-story border patrol building.

“Pretty much. I say we take him and run,” Seth said. “I don’t care if they’re suspicious. It’s better than giving them time to confirm he’s not human.”

Kam blinked at Seth in surprise. Usually he was the voice of caution, but she definitely agreed the quicker they acted the better. “OK, but let’s get a look inside and then decide who’s doing what.”

Still using the invisibility rings, they approached the sandy-colored structure and peeked in a window. A divided room with desks on the near side, two holding cells on the other. One cell was empty; Tad lay on a cot in the second. Kam couldn’t tell his condition, but he wasn’t moving around. A door next to the cells probably led into a rear supply area or a bathroom. Three Mexican guards lounged at the desks; two were chatting, the other was absorbed in something on his phone screen.

Kam and her companions circled the small structure and found a rear entrance. Seth popped the lock, and they entered a dark supply room. A door standing open on the left revealed a small bathroom. The door to the front area was closed but unlocked. Kam jerked her head toward the back, and they retreated outside.

“If we want to make this look like an ordinary guy rescued by his friends, we have to get the guards out of there. The less they see, the better.”

“I’ll stay outside and create a distraction,” Seth offered. “You and Trystan spring Tad.” He looked at Trystan. “Do you have an extra ring or do you need mine?”

Trystan frowned. “I didn’t even think of that. How do we get everyone back across the border?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Seth handed him the ring. “Just get your brother out of there. These guys won’t catch me, and it’ll be a good thing if they can report seeing someone.”

“Let’s make you look more like a ruffian.” Kam pulled up his hood to cover his hair and tied her black neck scarf over it like a headband. She flashed a brief smirk. “Hmm. You look kind of like a pirate—a sexy pirate—but it’ll do.” She handed him a pair of dark sunglasses from her pocket. “This should make it impossible to identify you.”

Seth put them on, kissed her cheek, and disappeared around the corner. Kam and Trystan slipped back inside and stationed themselves on either side of the interior door…just in case someone came that direction when Seth started his performance.

Kam stilled her breathing and waited. She wrinkled her nose at the faint odor of stale urine coming from the toilet facility. Hurry up, Seth.

Less than a minute later, something hit the side of the building with a loud bang. The Mexican guards reacted immediately, shouting at one another, slamming doors. One of them rushed through the supply room and exited out the back.

Kam and Trystan quickly moved into the front room. One guard had remained behind. He stood at the door, peering outside. Kam tiptoed up behind him, gave him a hard head-tap with the butt of her pistol, and caught his limp body. She lowered him to the floor and searched his pockets for the jail door keys. They weren’t on him, but she found them hanging on a peg behind the desks.

Grabbing the key ring, she hurried to the cell where Trystan talked quietly with his brother.

“He’s pretty weak,” Trystan said softly.

As soon as the lock was open, they helped the unsteady young man toward the back door, and Trystan placed the invisibility ring on Tad’s finger. They exited the substation a brief moment before the guards returned to discover their injured partner and the open cell door. In the shouting and general uproar that resulted, Kam and Trystan half-carried Tad up the hill, picking their way over the rough, sandy ground sprinkled with rocks, cactus, and short, tenacious scrubs. They ducked behind the first row of housing but didn’t stop moving until they found a secluded spot at the rear of a dilapidated building four blocks away.

“How badly is he hurt?” Kam whispered over the head of the slumped man. “Can he travel?”

“I’ll be OK.” Tad’s voice was weak, but he planted his feet and straightened. “I’m a little shaky, but I can do it. I’m sorry for all of this.”

“Save it,” she said tersely. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell your story once we’re back in Elvenrude. Let’s keep quiet until Seth’s seeker charm finds us.”

Seth appeared quickly. “I’ve been thinking how we can do this,” he said. “I’ll follow you to the border and find a safe place to wait. You get Tad across and then Kam can bring a ring and come back for me. Easy and uncomplicated.”

It was a rather anti-climatic end to a tense operation, but that’s how they did it. Everyone walked out. No bullets flying. No running for their lives.

Within an hour, start to finish, they were back in Elvenrude, and Prince Tadeous was in the hands of elven healers. Kam and Seth, Trystan, and Brunic waited in the front room of the temple for the healers to finish their examination. They were eager to hear Tad’s story, especially the activities and location of Jermon and the other renegade elves. But nobody was certain what Tad’s attitude would be. He seemed grateful for the rescue, but would that extend to cooperation?

A healer appeared in the doorway and beckoned.

Seen in the lights of the temple’s healing rooms, Tad’s face was unusually pale. His dirty and bloodstained clothes had been replaced by a white robe that emphasized the deep shadows underscoring his eyes. His injuries—partially healed arrow wounds, a puncture on his back and a hole through his right shoulder that had nicked the bone—had been treated by the healers, and he lay on a cot with his good arm over his forehead. Trystan entered first and sat by the bed; a healer in a blue robe stood on the opposite side.

Prince Tadeous attempted to sit up when Kam, Seth, and Brunic entered the room, but Trystan pushed him back down.

“Just stay where you are.”

Brunic gave the healer a questioning look.

“He should be fine,” the robed figure said. “The wounds were clean, no infection, and will heal rapidly now they’ve been properly treated. He needs rest, so I hope this first visit will not be extended.”

“We have a few questions,” Brunic said, his tone firm. “As soon as they’re answered, we’ll be on our way.”

The healer nodded and stepped out of the room.

“Now, young man…” Brunic drew up a chair and sat down. “Let’s hear it. Start with Jermon Lormarc. Is he alive? If so, where is he?”

“Oh, he’s alive all right. I can’t be sure where he is at present, but when I last saw him, he was in a drug cartel’s compound just outside of Juarez. He and Dreysel took over the gang after killing the Mexican leaders.”

“You don’t say.” Brunic’s expression never changed, but he leaned forward in his chair. “How’d that happen?”

“Slit their throats while they were asleep.”

“Could he start from the beginning?” Seth asked. “I’d like to know how he and Dreysel got connected with Jermon in the first place.”

“And why,” Trystan added.

“Stupidity,” Tad said, responding to his brother first. “But I didn’t know they intended to kill you.”

“So that was Dreysel’s plan.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tad grimaced and averted his gaze. “Dreysel said he knew how to help Cyrilia, and you were just being stubborn by not accepting his solutions. But they were using me to gain power for themselves. I didn’t realize it until we escaped from Elvenrude. The first night I heard Jermon tell Dreysel I was useless baggage. He treated me like dirt, and after a while, so did Dreysel and his friends.”

That explained why Tad was talking so freely.

“You skipped over how Jermon got involved,” Brunic said.

“Andolf talked to him while they were both confined in the security facility last summer. Jermon said he knew people who could provide workers for Cyrilia’s fields, money, and best of all—firearms.”

“Using his contacts from the uranium sales,” Kam said, referring to Jermon’s illegal mining operation to pay for arms for his aborted coup. “And the gang’s human slave traffic would have supplied the workers.”

“Yeah. But Dreysel was really pumped about the guns. Until we got them. Then no one used them much. They’re hard to handle and way too noisy.”

Tad described the early infiltration of the Mexican gang shortly after the fugitives fled over the border, the murder of the gang leaders late one night by using the invisibility magic to enter their bedrooms, and his constant fears he’d be next on the hit list.

“I did everything they wanted,” he admitted. “I was afraid of them, and the Mexicans were too…after the mysterious and gruesome murders.”

Kam eyed him thoughtfully, wondering how much of Tad’s story they could believe. “With access to the cartel’s funding, why were you stealing obsidian?” She deliberately suggested a monetary motive to see if Tad latched onto it or told them the truth.

“It wasn’t for money. They didn’t exactly explain—at least not to me—but Jermon said we’d rule both worlds if we collected enough. I thought about it, and all I can figure is it must be part of a magical ritual of some kind.”

Close enough. Kam, Seth, and Trystan exchanged looks. Jermon and Dreysel were as ambitious as they’d suspected, but how was Elvenrude at risk? She needed to find out what Seliwyn’s court mystics had said.

“They offered the Mexicans…well, all of us…a thousand US dollars for every piece we found,” Tad continued. “It seemed like a fortune. In Mexico, the dollar is a big deal.”

“So talk about DC,” Trystan said. “Why weren’t the Mexicans involved in that operation?”

“They hadn’t worked out so well. They can’t use the rings or portals, and Jermon said we’d never get through the Smithsonian’s security without the magic.” Tad closed his eyes and shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you guys. I never expected to see you again.”

“Why did you tackle me inside the monument?”

Tad’s eyes flew open. “I couldn’t let Dreysel shoot you.”

Yeah, right. After plotting against him for months?

For a moment Trystan didn’t respond, as if debating what to say. “You weren’t very subtle. Didn’t he realize what you’d done?”

“At first he thought it was just a dumb move. Then he talked to Jermon when we got back to the compound.” Tad took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. “I’d gone outside to catch a few minutes out of the stale smoke. The Mexicans smoked constantly. Anyway, I heard Jermon’s voice, sharp, angry. I went around the building where I could hear clearly and peeked into an open window…”

Jermon Lormarc stood in the middle of the room holding one of the stolen artifacts. He set the spear tip down and scowled at Dreysel. The Cyrilian lounged on the sofa, a typical smirk on his face.

“I told you he was an idiot,” Dreysel said. “But it’s no big deal. We got away, and we’ll have another chance at his brother. There’s no hurry.”

Jermon straightened and pinched the end of his salt and pepper goatee. For an elf entering his one hundred fifty-first year, he was extraordinarily sharp and fit. “That’s not the point. I don’t trust him. He’s useless anyway. The time has come for you to get rid of him.”

“Me?” Dreysel sat up. “Why me? Can’t one of these Mexicans do it?” He brushed his pale hair over his shoulder, got up, and walked to a side table. He took a long swig from an open bottle.

“Can’t you use a glass?”

Jermon’s disapproving tone brought another smirk from Dreysel. “I could. Don’t want to. I’m not sure I want to do in Tad either. He’s royalty.”

An instant later, Jermon’s bony fingers encircled Dreysel’s throat, and the bottle crashed to the floor, its dark contents staining the wood.

“Going soft on me?” Jermon’s voice was eerily quiet.

Dreysel pushed him away, but his face was ashen, his eyes cautious, betraying his nervousness. “Quit kidding around. I just meant we might still need him when we take control of Cyrilia.”

“I don’t need him.” Jermon took a black gun from his pocket and aimed it at Dreysel’s head. “Do you?”

“Um, I guess not.”

Jermon’s tone turned indifferent again, dismissive. He put the gun away. “Then see to it. Tonight.”

With a shaky sigh, Tad pulled his thoughts back to the present. “That’s when I ran. But they weren’t about to let me go.”

He’d gotten out of the compound with enough lead to stay just out of reach as he was chased through the fringes of Juarez by Dreysel and the other two Cyrilians, Andolf and Seye. He’d made it to the bank of the Rio Grande when he was hit by two arrows, tumbled into the river, and hid in scrubs along the edge until he passed out. A Mexican family found him the next morning, treated his injuries when he refused to go to a hospital, and he stayed with them two days before he attempted the border crossing.

“Dreysel had taken my ring, but I thought I could just walk across. I had no idea I needed documents. The Mexican guards seemed pretty suspicious of my injuries and searched me for drugs.” Tad shifted his shoulder and winced from the movement. “You know the rest.”

“Where exactly is this compound?” Brunic asked.

“I’ll give you directions, but it’s guarded by Mexicans with rifles. And I doubt if the elves are there. Jermon didn’t like being surrounded by humans he didn’t trust, so we didn’t stay there often.”

“So where were you the rest of the time?”

“Wherever the next potential find of obsidian was. There was no lack of money. They raided the cartel’s funds and spent it freely. Finding the obsidian was all they cared about.”

The infirmary door opened, and the robed healer returned to the room, interrupting the interview. “If he’s to make a full recovery, we must give the healing a chance to work.”

Chairs scuffed the floor, and Kam stood. She looked down at Tad. “Do you know where they’re going next?”

“Several places were discussed.”

“Write down any you remember. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“No problem. I’m willing to help.” Tad looked at his brother, his eyes bleak. “But I don’t expect anyone to forgive what I’ve done.”

Trystan stood silent, offering no reassurance, but Kam thought it cost him not to. The elder prince looked troubled as they exited the temple.

Seth turned to Trystan the moment the four of them stepped outside the building. “Do you believe him?”

“Which part?” Trystan asked. “I hope he’s sincere in regretting his past actions, but I’m not certain. His injuries are genuine enough, and his tale rings true. I don’t doubt Jermon and Dreysel considered him expendable.” He made a dubious face. “Tad’s always been a bad liar and fairly easy to read, but I certainly miscalculated the depth of his resentment of me.”

“We should check and double check everything we can,” Kam said. “While I don’t think Tad has it in him to be a successful spy, I wouldn’t put it past Jermon to try to put someone on the inside.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that.” Brunic blew a derisive snort. “You’re right about Jermon. The man’s as slippery as a snake.”

It was after midnight by the time Trystan left for Cyrilia to talk with his father. Word had been sent to the party guests and the king confirming Tad’s safe recovery, but Kam and Seth stopped at the house long enough to prove they’d returned without injury.

The party guests had departed as soon as the success of the Mexican trip was reported. Kam’s mother wrapped her in a hug, clearly thankful to have her daughter safely home, and she was resigned over the ruined evening. Kam was too drained to think about it. Declining pleas for them to stay the night, Kam and Seth returned to New Orleans via the Ryndel portal.

At the Cityside guild, Barrott and Rhyden waited to hear the details. Even condensing events in Mexico and Tad’s story as much as they could, it was another forty-five minutes before Seth and Kam admitted their exhaustion and got away.

Kam let out a long breath as they stepped out of the portal into their condo.

“Our romantic plans were foiled again,” Seth said, folding her in his arms. “I’d hoped we’d return tonight as an engaged couple.”

“Yeah, me too. But I have the important part. You.”

He kissed her then. When he lifted his head, his gaze held the vows they hadn’t yet spoken. “I’m tempted to carry you off and create a scandal by marrying without the traditional time for reconsideration. If one of us intended to back out, surely it would have happened by now.”

“Nearly did.” She grinned at him and ran her hand along the curve of his throat. “You make an interesting point. Why don’t we discuss it in bed? I have a few other ideas too.”

“Do you?” He took her hand and turned toward the bedroom. “I sincerely hope they fit in with mine.…and that neither of us falls asleep too soon.”

CHAPTER TEN

Carrying his second bottle of beer since he’d been home, Rhyden paced the living room of his New Orleans’ apartment. The two-story condo looked like any other bachelor pad of a successful young businessman: high-end wireless sound system, large screen TV, leather furniture in an espresso brown accented with ivory throw pillows. The hardwood floors gleamed from the efforts of his weekly cleaning service. A place to relax and unwind in style.

Ha, relax. That was a joke. Not tonight.

While Kam and Seth were off rescuing the Cyrilian, Esty had pestered him all evening about resuming the search for the rebels. He’d managed to avoid an answer and finally escaped to the Lormarc Guild by claiming urgent trade business. But after talking with Kam and Seth…well, Jermon’s grandiose plans to rule Elvenrude made it harder to tell her no.

He shook his head and continued to pace. Damn the man. For a successful coup, Jermon would need the help of his supporters on the inside, mainly the violent faction of the duchaen rebels.

It followed that someone needed to find and neutralize them. Kam and Seth were chasing Jermon. Merik Trevain and Captain Brunic refused to talk with one another. So who did that leave? He didn’t have much choice. Rhyden took a swig of beer, then glowered at the human beverage which had no more kick than soda. What he needed was hearty, elven ale.

He set the bottle down on the counter with a thump. No. What he needed was sleep. In the morning he’d find Merik and discuss the situation. He’d make a decision how best to proceed. Then…he’d talk with Esty. May the gods help him.

He walked into the bathroom and splashed water on his face and hair, using a towel to wipe some of the weariness away. He peered at himself in the mirror and checked to be sure there were no gray hairs. Esty had successfully driven him to drink. Could the gray hairs be far behind?

He tossed the towel over the rack and went to bed.

* * *

Esty didn’t waste sleep venting her frustrations. But she woke determined to protect her friend Ellyn from Brunic’s sweeping condemnation of the duchaen—and to do her part to end Elvenrude’s problems. If Kam could put off her promise ceremony to pursue the king’s cause, Esty could gather a few names to expose Kurzi Everins’s band of rebels.

Rhyden had no right to keep her out of this. All she was going to do was ask a couple of questions. Two of the older women at the market knew everyone…and everything that happened in Brierwood. Surely they’d know where Kurzi lived. She could watch where he went, give the information to Merik, and maybe stop this craziness.

She dressed in jeans, boots, a heavy sweater, and her warmest cloak. No telling how long she’d be out in the cold. She wasn’t quite sure how you followed someone without being seen, but she’d figure it out. She wasn’t coming home until she had something to report.

During the winter the Brierwood outdoor market was closed, but an extension to the town hall held the off-season version, a dozen or more colorful stands of winter produce, apple delicacies, including fresh cider—hot or cold—and a wide variety of baked goods, crafts, and handmade accessories. Although frequented by all social classes, the usual patrons who lingered were members of the Elite aristocracy. Esty wandered the four rows of stalls. She was tempted by a beautiful peach scarf but doggedly kept to her task and found the two women in animated conversation with a group near the cider booth. Esty purchased a mug of the hot version of the beverage and joined them.

“Imagine wearing yellow at this time of year,” said the older, more matronly of the two unofficial town criers. She sniffed in disapproval and held a handkerchief to her nose. “Of course, family livelihood often dictates the wardrobe. Our common workers receive meager allotments by our standards.”

“Being poor isn’t easy.” Esty kept her voice casual. “Imagine living without things we take for granted…like buying whatever catches our interest at the market…or stopping for cinnamon cider. It’s really not a surprise the duchaen rebellion has surfaced.” She avoided direct eye contact. She didn’t want to challenge anyone, just present an invitation to open a sensitive subject that might yield results. She waited to see what would happen.

After a moment, the younger and chubbier of the two women spoke. “You’re quite right, Estelle. I have great sympathy for their plight. In spite of their poor start in life, many of the women are well-mannered.”

The others nodded in agreement. Whether sincere or not, their reaction was a welcome change to the disapproving silence her words would have brought a year ago. She ventured a little further. “Of course, I can’t condone the awful behavior of a few, an unruly gang that roams the streets and forests after dark.”

Concerned looks and frowns this time. One woman launched into a story of her female cousin being taunted on the village street by four crossbreed ruffians. “If one of your male cousins hadn’t come to her rescue, who knows what would have happened.”

Esty nodded. “I’m glad he was there. She must have been terrified.” She lowered her voice, and the women automatically leaned in to hear better. “I’m sure these men are quite savage. Have any of you actually seen them?”

“Oh, my goodness, no,” the oldest woman said. “I’m sure I’d faint.”

Her companion was slower to respond. “I have a second cousin who thinks her stable man went to a meeting. He looks pretty ordinary.”

“Really?” Esty lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can you imagine what they’re doing at these secret meetings? Plotting? Forbidden rituals?”

Once she had them on the subject, it wasn’t difficult to keep them talking. Most of what they offered was wild speculation, stretching from the mundane to the ridiculous. She eventually brought up Kurzi Everins’s name, and a woman in a brown dress admitted he was the crossbreed son of her neighbor. Although the woman seemed sorry she’d said anything, Esty prodded her with wide-eyed interest until she had the information she wanted. Kurzi worked on a local farm—which Esty already knew—and lived by himself in the village. To her surprise, his stone and sod hut stood not far from Ellyn’s home.

As soon as she could without being too obvious, Esty declared she had other errands to run and left the market. She ducked her head and hid a smile of satisfaction in her black, furry muff. So far, so good. His house should be easy to find.

* * *

Rhyden decided a head-on approach was best. He walked into the Trevain Guild and asked for Merik Trevain by name, claiming an interest in exporting additional silk goods.

The man he spoke to gave him an odd look but scurried away. Well, it had been a lame attempt to explain his presence. Any inventory purchases by the Lormarc Guild would normally be handled by agents not the owners.

Undaunted by the speculative stares, Rhyden studied the busy warehouse while he waited. When he spotted the owner’s son walking toward him, he returned Merik’s frown with a smile. “Nice operation.”

“Thank you.”

“I like the setup with loads and unloads at the same end but far enough apart they don’t interfere with one another. Very efficient.”

“It’s possible to do with our small inventory,” Merik said. “But I doubt if you came to discuss our efficiency or to buy silks. Why are you here?”

Rhyden kept his smile. “A little privacy, if you please.”

Merik’s frown deepened, but he pointed across the hall. “I’m sure the guild master will loan us his office.”

Before they reached the office door, they were intercepted by Merik’s acknowledged father, Alen Trevain, the dark-haired Elite owner of the guild house. “May I help you?”

“I have this.” Merik’s voice warmed for the first time. “Nothing to worry about, just a personal matter.”

His father lifted his brow, but he must have read something in Merik’s expression that reassured him. “Then I’ll leave you to it. If you change your mind, I’ll be checking the new arrivals.”

Rhyden noted Alen Trevain’s genuine concern and affection. Unusual. Honorable.

Merik waved Rhyden into their headquarters. The guild master rose from his desk immediately, and as soon as Merik explained, he pulled the door closed on his way out.

The duchaen leader turned with an air of quiet confidence. “This must be of some importance for you to come here. I assume it concerns the rebellion.”

“We’ve confirmed Jermon Lormarc is still alive. His goals still include ruling Elvenrude, and he’ll need his past conspirators to make the attempt. Which means this splinter group is more dangerous than we thought.”

Merik dropped his aloof posture and let out a long sigh. “Have you already told Captain Brunic of our discussions?”

“I should have. But I wanted to talk with you first.” Rhyden tipped his head toward a chair. “May I?”

“Of course, I apologize for my manners.” Merik followed his lead and dropped into the chair behind the desk. “What can be done?”

“Kurzi’s gang shouldn’t be that hard to find…if we had enough people looking. Your followers must know some of them. Why haven’t they shared the information with you?”

“They’re afraid.” Merik came to his feet again and crossed to the door to look out on the guild floor. “Half of the workers in this guild are crossbreeds, because nobody else will hire them. It’s been much easier for me, because my father chose to include me in his family. But they’ve spent their lives trying to blend in and not offend someone by their very presence. It’s terrifying for them to take a stand that will bring them to the attention and possible censure of people…like you. Or even me. They’re struggling to protect what little they have.” He stopped, returned to the desk, and sank into his chair. “I’ve felt some of it, but you can’t even imagine what it’s like.”

“No, I can’t,” Rhyden said. “But my family and the Ryndels are interested in doing something about it. Actually, the reappearance of the Cyrilians helped by forcing us to evaluate our past choices and beliefs. Many of us realized there had been huge mistakes. We often saw what we wanted to see.” Rhyden gave a one-shoulder shrug and leaned back. “We can’t undo the past, but we can do better in the future. Let’s talk with your people together, get them to help us.” He paused, momentarily surprised by his offer, but he was on the right track. “We’ll find this gang and separate out those willing to renounce Jermon and his dreams of power. They’ll get the extra chance you want for them. The rest…belong to Brunic.”

Merik pursed his lips and smiled. “Working together. That’s it? That’s your offer?”

Rhyden wasn’t positive, but Merik seemed pleased. “It’s the best deal you’re going to get today.”

“Then I guess I better take it.” Merik stood and shook Rhyden’s hand. “I’ll call a meeting of the duchaen for tonight.”

* * *

As dusk settled over Elvenrude, Rhyden walked down the narrow cobblestone streets of Brierwood. He kept his collar and hood pulled up, not only against the wind but to conceal his face from open view. He’d rather not have anyone report this activity to Seth—or gods forbid—to his grandfather Harad. Nor did he want his presence to spook Merik’s people away before they knew he wasn’t a threat to them. He kept to the shadows whenever possible.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him. Instead of turning to look, he hurried around the next corner and stepped behind a bush. Only seconds later, a brawny, male figure walked briskly past. A dark, knitted hat covered his head. He glanced cautiously around, crossed over the street, and cut between two houses. Someone else who didn’t want to be seen.

Rhyden parted the branches to step out but froze at the sound of more steps. Lighter, quicker. He waited. This time a slight figure in a full, hooded cloak and hand muff drew even with him. A woman. No, damn it. It was Esty.

He reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. She squeaked, but stifled a scream.

“Don’t you ever learn?” he asked in an irritated whisper, as he hauled her behind the bushes with him. “What are you doing now?”

She struggled to shake him off. “Let me go, you idiot. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Lose who?” He tightened his grip as the truth hit him. “That…big man who just went past?” Shock nearly made him speechless. “He clearly didn’t want to be seen. What do you think he’d do if he caught you spying on him?”

“He didn’t know I was there. Now he’s gotten away.” She tapped a dainty foot on the hard ground. “I worked all day to get this far. You’ve ruined everything.”

“Probably true,” he said dryly. “If your goal was to get yourself hurt.” Rhyden’s racing heartbeat slowly returned to normal. “Who was he? Why were you following him?”

“What are you doing skulking about town?” She arched a brow. “I thought you had urgent business in New Orleans. Isn’t that what you said? You lied to me.”

“If I did, it was for your own good. And didn’t you promise me you’d back off? Damn it, Esty. You have no business creeping around at night and chasing ruffians. Now, tell me who that man is.”

“Kurzi Everins. He would have led me to the others. I’m sure there’s a meeting tonight. Why else would he be out?”

Rhyden’s head came up. Why, indeed. And on the street near Merik’s gathering. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Was he there to cause trouble?

Rhyden glanced at Esty’s pert nose and stubborn mouth. She should go home, but he didn’t have time to take her or waste in a useless argument. Still, he had to try. “Let me handle this. Go home, and I’ll stop by later to explain.”

“Handle what? Are you here to spy on the rebels?”

“It isn’t what you think. Merik’s called a meeting of the duchaen. I’m not sure why Everins is here, but I’m certain it’s not good.” He blew out an exasperated breath. She wasn’t leaving, and he definitely didn’t want her following him, possibly blowing his cover or stumbling into danger. He ushered her toward the street. “I assume you’re ignoring my advice, so come on. We have to warn Merik.”

She continued to ask questions but allowed him to direct her across the street. “How did you find out about this? Have you talked with Merik again?”

“I’m trying to help him…just like you wanted.”

“But without me,” she said.

He didn’t bother to answer her, because it was true. He’d done his best to keep her away from further risks, but obviously it hadn’t worked.

They reached the edge of town, and Rhyden spotted the barn with the stone foundation Merik had described. “We’re looking for the cellar,” he said, keeping his voice low.

They found the wooden door in back. The signal was to knock twice, wait, knock twice more. Rhyden looked around, then used the agreed code. It seemed a little melodramatic, and he gritted his teeth when Esty giggled.

“It wasn’t my idea. Now keep your head down and be quiet.”

The door opened, and they quickly descended into the large root cellar. It had been enlarged at some point—for what original purpose he couldn’t guess—but it easily held nearly four dozen people talking quietly. Merik walked over to meet them and frowned at Esty.

“Don’t ask,” Rhyden said. “We have a bigger problem. Kurzi Everins is here or watching from outside.”

Merik started and shook his head. “Not inside. I’ve watched every time the door opened.” His gaze flicked over the room again. “None of his friends are here either.”

“I thought you didn’t know his friends.” Rhyden eyed the other man, but Merik avoided his gaze.

“I’m not sure if any are actual conspirators…although I have suspicions,” he conceded.

“Then you damn well better be sharing them.” The harsh tone of Rhyden’s whispered remark caused Esty to squeeze his arm.

“Shouldn’t we concentrate on Kurzi Everins?” she asked. “You guys can fight later.”

Rhyden silently fumed. Now she sounded like her sister. She was right, this wasn’t the time, but his new alliance with the duchaen leader wasn’t off to a good start.

“Do you want me look for him? See if I can scare him off?” Rhyden asked.

“I wouldn’t bother.” Merik finally looked at him. “What’s he gain by spying on us? Somebody talked too much about the meeting, but his need to sneak around is encouraging. He apparently doesn’t have anyone inside my group to tell him what we’re doing.”

“If that’s all he wants.”

“What else? We’ve nothing to steal, no secrets to hide. What would be the point?”

“Get serious.” Rhyden could think of several reasons. The primary one would make Merik a target. Eliminate the opposition. It wouldn’t be the first time Jermon’s associates had planned an assassination.

“You mean he’s after me?” Merik laughed. “Let him try. I can take Everins any day. It’s time to get this meeting started.”

To say the duchaen rebels were surprised when Rhyden and Esty pulled back their hoods would be a gross understatement. Bows and knives appeared. Distrust for the aristocracy ran deep. But once the initial alarm passed, they had enough faith in Merik to listen. Ellyn helped by coming to Esty’s side and acknowledging their friendship. As the two men explained events of the last few days and the meeting’s purpose, the worst of the hostility faded, but there were still skeptics.

“Aren’t you a member of the Guard?” one man asked Rhyden. “Why would you help us?”

“I’m special service,” he admitted. “But I don’t answer to Captain Brunic except on assignment. I’ve offered to help because Miss Ryndel and Merik convinced me I should.”

“Why should we trust you?”

Rhyden shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

Merik stepped forward. “I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t trust him. He’s offering us a chance to save some of our brethren. Most of them don’t want Jermon Lormarc or the Cyrilians in control of Elvenrude.”

“That’s true,” a voice from the crowd said. “Only a handful truly follow him.”

“So help us. Give me a chance to talk with those who aren’t Jermon Lormarc’s people, or talk to them yourself. Make them understand. If we can’t do it, they’ll likely end up dead or in the Security Sanitarium for treason.”

“What if the Guard finds them first?” an older woman asked.

“We will have failed. Time could run out any hour now.”

Uneasiness swept through the room. Several talked among themselves. It was a hard decision to expose their friends. Rhyden didn’t expect any of them to talk to him, but if they’d just talk to Merik…

He studied the crowd. Most appeared to support the plan, a few seemed even eager. He’d done the right thing in coming here, but he wished Esty was safely at home. It was bad enough his own name might reach the wrong ears, but if she faced censure from friends or Brunic—even the king—he didn’t know how he could protect her. He glanced at her laughing with Ellyn. Clearly she wasn’t worried…didn’t even realize she should be. He knew better, but the damage was already done.

“OK.” Merik raised his voice to halt the private conversations. “Anyone ready to give me a name? If so, meet me on the side.” He pointed to his left. “If you don’t know someone, start asking questions when you leave here tonight. Don’t worry—”

Excited voices from the back interrupted him. “Do you smell something?”

“Hey, that’s smoke!”

“Fire! The barn’s on fire.”

The crowd stampeded for the cellar door, pushing and shoving. Smoke billowed around them, and the disorderly exodus turned into a frantic rush for survival as they pawed and climbed over each other to get up the narrow steps and into fresh air.

Rhyden wrapped his arm around Esty and moved steadily toward the exit. When he stumbled over an elderly man on the floor, he released her to help the fallen victim back to his feet. “Stay close to me, Esty.”

“I have a hold of your jacket,” she said. But a moment later, she crouched to pick up a small boy who’d been separated from his mother.

What the hell was a child doing here?

Merik jumped on top of a barrel. His voice carried over the chaos. “Stay calm. Don’t trample each other. We’ll get out. Protect the women and children.”

As heavy smoke continued to fill the room, the two dozen still inside gasped for breath, coughing and covering their faces with their arms or clothing. Rhyden shifted the crying child onto his shoulder and put his other arm around Esty again. They’d almost made it to the steps when part of the barn floor behind them gave way. People began screaming.

Rhyden glanced behind him, tempted to go back, but he had to get Esty and the child out first. He reached the bottom of the steps and handed the child off to someone above. Then he pushed Esty forward. She was coughing and tears from the stinging smoke streamed down her face.

She clung to his hand. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Right behind you.”

Before they could say more, helping hands from above lifted her out. Rhyden turned to make his way to those trapped behind him, but all he saw was a wall of flames. Heavy, dark smoke stung his eyes and throat.

Merik appeared out of the smoke, bringing two survivors with him. His face was smudged with black, his hair singed. “There’s nothing we can do for anyone still back there. It’s an inferno, and the rest of the floor will go any second.”

Rhyden grabbed an arm to assist, and between them they dragged and shoved the two victims up the stone stairs. The barn floor collapsed, and flames shot toward the sky. Someone swatted at Rhyden’s back, putting out a shower of sparks on his jacket. He stumbled away from the building and fell to his knees, coughing, fighting to catch a breath of clean air.

Esty knelt beside him. “Are you OK?” When he couldn’t get any words out past the acrid smoke in his throat, she pounded on his back. “Please, Rhyden, tell me you’re OK.”

He put his arm around her to stop the assault and dragged in several deep gulps. He’d never realized how awesome fresh air could be. “I’m OK,” he finally got out.

“Thank the gods.” She put a hand on his soot-covered cheek and a swift kiss on his lips. Then she burst into tears.

Aw, hell. Rhyden got to his feet, pulled her up and into his arms. People were arriving from the village, but he and Esty hadn’t yet been noticed. He pulled her hood up and what was left of his own. “We need to go. There’s nothing more we can do, and I don’t want you around when the authorities arrive. Or gods forbid, your father.”

Most of the duchaen had scattered, disappearing into the village. Merik and a handful of others stood their ground, helplessly watching the barn burn to the ground and stomping out sparks that threatened to spread.

Rhyden stopped beside Merik. “I have to get Esty out of here. Then I’ll return to help.”

“No, don’t come back. We can handle the little that can be done. Neither of you should be seen here. But it’s time I declared myself. Besides, there are casualties inside. My people. I can’t abandon them.” Merik shoved them toward the woods. “Hurry. I’ll be in touch. This changes nothing.”

Rhyden glanced over his shoulder and saw a brigade of men running toward them from the village. He grabbed Esty’s hand and took off. No one yelled or seemed to notice them, and he slowed to a walk inside the forest, carefully picking his way through the brush until he found a path. Esty remained quiet, but she kept her head turned away, and he suspected she was still crying. He couldn’t think of anything that would erase the horror of what had happened but kept her hand firmly tucked in his.

He stopped just short of the swinging walkway to Esty’s home. “We’re covered with soot and the smell of smoke. How do we explain this to your parents?”

“We don’t. I do. You go on home. They don’t even know you’re in Elvenrude. Mother will cry, and Father will be mad at me, but they’ll get over it.” Trails of tears streaked the smoke residue on her face, but she lifted her chin with a hint of a smile. “After all, Kam’s gotten into scrapes her whole life. It’s my turn.”

“I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

“It’ll be easier on both of us if you do.”

Rhyden frowned. “You must have a very odd opinion of me. I’m surprised you thought I’d agree.”

“Well, I didn’t, but it would be the sensible thing to do.”

Rhyden shook his head and flashed her a reluctant grin. “Let’s get this over with.” He squared his shoulders and wondered what he was going to say to her father.

Meotta Sawyer met them at the door. She took one look and gasped, her hand briefly fluttered to cover her mouth.

“Sweet Mother Earth, look at your clothes. What happened to you? Have you been near that fire your father has gone to put out? Here, take that filthy thing off. Oh, how can you stand the smell?” She grabbed Esty’s cloak and threw it outside on the walkway, then drew her daughter toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and you can tell me what happened.”

“I’d love to hear it too.” Sawyer Ryndel stood in the doorway, Esty’s cloak dangled from his hand, a deep scowl marred his normally pleasant features. He pierced Rhyden with an accusing look. “I never expected to see my youngest daughter and you sneaking away from a burning barn…and a secret meeting of the duchaen rebellion. Did you know people died in the fire? My daughter could have been one of them.”

Sawyer Ryndel’s volume rose with each word describing the fire scene, his shock at seeing his daughter there—a recurring theme, Rhyden’s irresponsible behavior, his growing outrage as he’d followed them through the woods. The veins stood out in his neck; his face turning red. Esty’s father was on the verge of losing it, and Rhyden wasn’t sure which of his accusations he should address first.

Rhyden swallowed hard at the reminder of those trapped inside. He attempted to respond twice, but his words were drowned out.

Sawyer paused to catch his breath and abruptly pointed toward the door. “On second thought, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Not tonight. Get out.”

“Father, that’s not fair.” Esty glared at him. “It was my fault.”

“Go to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” His angry gaze returned to Rhyden. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go, before I say something I might regret.”

Rhyden thought he’d already done that, but he looked at Esty. “Will you be all right?”

“What? You think I’d hurt my own daughter?” Sawyer took a step toward him.

Rhyden lifted his hands, palms out in self-defense. “No, sir. That isn’t what I meant.”

“Just go,” Esty said wearily. “He’s not going to listen.” She turned away. “I’m taking a bath.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The morning after the interrupted promise party, Seth reached the office tired and irritable. He hated it when plans went awry, but that was only half the problem. The bigger issue was his great-uncle. Would the man never stop his lunatic schemes? Seth was on his second cup of coffee when Kam called, suggesting they visit the drug cartel’s compound in Mexico. He readily agreed, relieved to get out of the office and clear his head. They transported to El Paso, crossed the border, and hiked to the edge of Juarez.

The compound was exactly where Tad had reported, but it appeared almost deserted. Two thugs in combat fatigues with handguns and assault rifles lounged at the front entrance, smoking cigarettes. Another man dozed in a sniper tower. Using the invisibility magic, they checked the interior. The rooms were empty. As Tad had indicated, none of the elves were staying there. In fact, it looked like the cartel hadn’t been there for a few days. Jermon and Dreysel must have diverted everyone to the search for obsidian. Or they’d shifted their forces elsewhere after Tad’s escape. Either way, it was a dead end.

With nothing to keep them in Mexico, they returned to New Orleans and arranged to meet Trystan and Tad at the Healers’ Temple late that afternoon. Unless the spotters or Trystan’s scouts came up with something more urgent, the only thing they had to go on would be Tad’s list of potential targets and Kam’s research.

By 4:10, Kam, Seth, and Trystan leaned over the table in Tad’s infirmary room, reading the list. It was lengthy at twenty-two sites, including archeological digs, historic ruins, museums—large and small—and lava fields, primarily in the Middle East and Mexico.

She looked at Seth and Trystan, then back at Tad sitting on the edge of his cot. He would be released tomorrow, and no one had discussed where he’d go, but at the moment she was more concerned with locating the fugitives. “Where do we start?”

“There are some big museums on this list,” Seth said. “The Louvre, the British Museum. I’d normally eliminate those due to security, except they already hit the Smithsonian. By using magic, they can go damn near anywhere.”

“Start with the largest collections or the biggest pieces,” Trystan suggested.

Kam pulled open a briefcase at her feet and drew out a stack of printed pages. “I spent the last two hours doing exactly that kind of Internet search. We can cross off the ones that aren’t on Tad’s list or at least put them in a second pile.” She shuffled through it and sorted them. “A few likely spots aren’t that far away. For instance, the St. Louis Science Center has a collection of obsidian blades, some thirty inches long, and the largest outcropping in the world of raw obsidian is in Oregon’s Squaw Bluffs. On the other hand, the extensive collection of small tools that came from a Minoan burial cave in Crete is likely to be older, as are the tools still being found in the caves and lava tubes of volcanic islands like Easter Island. But no one else knows it makes a difference.”

“What difference?” Tad asked. “Do you know why they’re looking for obsidian?”

“Does it matter?” Kam covered her blunder quickly. “We’re looking for your former buddies, and they seem to be looking for it. You’d have to ask them why.”

Tad frowned, clearly not satisfied with her answer.

Kam stood. “I’m going to e-mail this list to my spotters and ask them to watch these particular spots. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see some activity again.” She cocked her head at Tad. “If we need to talk to you, where will you be?”

“In Cyrilia,” Trystan answered for him. “Confined to the palace for now. I’ve already spoken with King Seliwyn. He’s releasing Tad to my custody.” He looked at his brother grimly. “We have a lot of talking to do, and I’m not yet sure what his future holds.”

“See that he stays there,” Seth said. “And keeps his mouth shut. I’d hate for our conversations to get back to Jermon and Dreysel.”

Tad grimaced. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Both men ignored him.

“He’ll have a personal guard to ensure it,” Trystan said. “I anticipate he will spend most of his time with our ailing parent.”

Kam cast Tad a chilly look, but the effort was wasted. Following his protest, he’d dropped his gaze to the floor. He was getting off way too easy. Would he appreciate it? On a cold day in Hades.

“I’ll give the list to my scouts too,” Trystan continued. “We’ll stay alert for the fugitives, but catching them isn’t necessarily my top priority. Cyrilia is.”

She nodded, understanding he meant the search for obsidian. But she was relieved he’d exercised caution around Tad and not revealed the power of volcanic glass or its potential to restore Cyrilia. She turned to Seth. “I think we should check some of these spots ourselves.”

“I’m game. It could help us decide which are high on Jermon’s list.”

She looked at Trystan. “We’ll let you two talk, and check in later.” She took Seth’s hand, and they walked toward the door. “A little globe-trotting might be fun. Which way first? North, south, east, or west?”

* * *

Four hours later, Kam looked doubtfully at the dark blue waters along the shore of the Pacific island. “You really want to do this?”

In order to reach the remote obsidian cavern where ghostly sightings had been reported, they’d have to swim fifty yards through an underwater lava tunnel. Kam could easily swim the distance and the narrow quarters weren’t an issue, but the outdoor stand on the beach where they’d purchased their swimsuits—a cute little blue and white bikini for her and black trunks for him—had only had one diving light. She regretted not looking further. The dark tunnel would test their elven eyesight. What if they got turned around or off course? What if there was no breathable airspace at the other end?

“Is something wrong?” Seth asked.

“No. I guess not. I’ll go first, if I can have the light.”

“Afraid of the dark?” He grinned and handed her the waterproof flashlight. “Don’t drop it.”

She shot him a look. “Aren’t you even a little uneasy about this?”

“No, but I can tell you are. Want me to go alone? I can check it out and report back.”

“Nope. I’m good.” She tested the water with her toe before wading out farther. Cool, but not bad. Refreshing, in fact. “OK, here goes nothing.”

The water was clearer and friendlier than it looked. Finding the entrance to the tunnel took no time at all. There was an hour of daylight left; the sun filtered through the ten-foot depth of water, and she could see Seth swimming on her left.

The inside of the lava tube was approximately four feet tall by five wide, bigger than she’d expected but darker and the sides rough enough to cut if you weren’t careful. She steered clear of the jagged surface and shone the light along the side. It curved and curled in some mysterious pattern determined by an outside landscape she couldn’t see. There were no side tunnels, no chance to go the wrong way. She finally relaxed and simply took in this interesting phenomenon of nature as she swam steadily forward. Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, Kam lifted her head into fresh air and pulled herself onto smoother stone.

Seth bobbed to the surface beside her and climbed out. “You OK?”

“Sure. It was kind of fun.” She shone the light around the cave. “It seems to go back a ways, or maybe there’s more than one cave. Do you see anything that might be obsidian?”

The rock walls around them were various shades of gray, light to dark. One corner had small clumps of black.

“That’s the only dark rock.”

“Not much. Maybe if we look deeper.” She walked toward the back of the cave, found an opening about three feet off the ground and climbed up. It widened into another open space, narrowed, and then widened again. Each new area appeared to have a larger deposit of the dark substance, and they spotted chip marks, as if someone had broken off small pieces. Not necessarily elves. Could have been one of the many tourists who visited every year. It wasn’t a well-known site, but anyone who did their research or asked the locals would hear about it.

Kam turned to go back when she noticed a shaded area at the bottom of the wall. Upon closer examination, it wasn’t dark rock this time but another small opening. She knelt and crawled through, then stood in what appeared to be a large crack in the lava flow. “Oh, wow, Seth. Come see this. It might help Trystan.” She stepped out of his way and placed her hands flat against the wall of jet-black material. Her palms tingled. Not as powerful as her silver wristband, but it held magic. She turned to make a face at Seth. “It’s not very strong. Maybe if they used a lot of it…”

“Better than none.” He ran his fingers over the surface. “So this is what all the fuss is about. I suppose it’s more impressive when it’s cut and polished.”

“We’re not looking for beauty.” She turned the flashlight to illumine the cave behind them, took a step in that direction, then frowned and peered ahead. “Let’s follow the fissure a little further. I sense something much stronger— What’s that slapping noise?”

She turned the light toward the entrance.

“Just water against the rocks. The tide must be coming in.”

“Why’s it suddenly so loud? They said it was safe to come in here, but I don’t remember hearing that sound before.”

“It wasn’t this noisy,” Seth admitted, looking at the dark behind them. “Could be rough water. An evening storm may have increased the waves. Maybe we should start back.”

Living in New Orleans, they knew ocean storms could turn deadly, but neither had grown up there or had much experience with ocean tides. After seeing the devastation left behind by Katrina, any storm made them uneasy.

They retraced their steps. As they approached the entrance to the first cave, the ocean sounds grew louder, more ominous. The water beat against the rock with a resounding smack, and Kam slid down into knee-high water at least twenty feet from its previous edge.

“Hey, this isn’t fun anymore. How high will this go? It’s come up two or three feet already.”

Seth studied the swirling water ahead. “Must be a big storm. The water’s rising, and I’m not sure we should try to swim through it. The other caves are a bit higher. We could go back and wait it out.”

Kam looked behind, then ahead of her. “I don’t like either choice. The top of this cave is barely over your head. What if it fills? If we go farther back, we’re trapped for sure.”

“Do you have a suggestion?”

The water was now waist-high. She wasn’t waiting around to drown. “I say we go.”

“Then we better hurry.” He leaned over, one hand on her back, and kissed her lips, pressing her body close for a hard hug. “Good luck, my love.”

“You too.” She gripped his shoulder and returned the kiss. Her pulse skipped a beat, but she refused to admit this could be anything worse than an uncomfortable swim in choppy waves. She released him and slid under the water.

The current was stronger than it looked, with undercurrents that dragged her in directions she didn’t want to go. Within the first ten yards she was thrown against the walls of the tube, its rough projections scraping her skin.

She fought the engulfing waters; the elven strength in her arms and legs kept her going. But the constant barrage quickly took a toll. The curves and corners were the worst. The rushing waves swept around the curves tumbling her over repeatedly, then crashed against the confining wall on corners, turning something as fragile as a mortal body into a missile. On the third curve, she hit so hard she felt a rib crack.

Kam caught brief glimpses of Seth. He was being tossed almost as much as she was. Too bad his family ring couldn’t teleport them through obstacles like rock and water.

The next crash knocked the breath from her. They’d been in the water so long her lungs were protesting. She had no reserve left. Forcing herself not to gulp in water, she turned her head, frantically searching for Seth, needing to see him. A wall of water swept him past, and he smashed headfirst against the rocks. His body sagged. She lunged forward to grasp his hand…missed…tried again. This time she successfully closed her fingers around his wrist, but they were both caught by the next wave and bashed against the lava wall.

I love you, she thought as consciousness faded.

* * *

Kam woke on an island beach bathed in moonlight. Everything hurt. She rolled her head. Seth lay beside her. Frightened, but not remembering why, she placed a hand on his chest and felt its gentle rise. He was breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut trying to force the memories, and after a moment of bewildering blankness, it came rushing back. The lava tunnel, the storm. She pushed herself up on her arms; her head swam. How did they get here?

Was that another figure on the beach? She rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other supporting her. A slender child with long silvery hair walked barefoot in the sand toward the water.

“Wait,” Kam called. Or thought she did, but she didn’t hear a sound. The child-like figure kept moving toward the waves that were calm now. “Who are you? Did you save us?” This time she heard her words carried on the hushed air, but the young girl vanished into the ocean mist.

Kam fell back on the sand. Was this a dream? An illusion? A result of trauma or near drowning? Or had she really seen a water sprite? She’d never met a fairy before. Never even seen one except the tiny variety that visited her mother’s butterfly garden.

She wasn’t sure she’d seen one now.

She rolled over, rested her head on Seth’s warm chest, and fell asleep.

Kam woke when Seth stirred. She sat up and looked around. They were alone on the beach this time. It was a starry, cloudless night; the mild ocean breeze cooled her skin, but the sand was still warm from the day’s sun. Her bikini was dry.

Seth sat up beside her. “Are you OK?”

“A little worse for wear,” she said, showing him the cuts and scrapes on her arms and legs. “My ribs hurt. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same.” He rubbed the top of his head. “Someone hit me with a sledge hammer. How’d we get out of the tunnel? What happened to the storm?”

“It’s over, I guess. The rest I don’t know. I thought we were both going to drown…and then I woke up here…and saw her. We might have been saved by a water fairy.” She met his gaze and told him what she remembered.

When she shivered, Seth drew her against his shoulder. “Perhaps she’s the guardian of this island or of the lava caves. Whoever she is, we owe her for deciding to spare us.”

She looked up at him. “Then you think she also caused the storm?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess we were trespassing.” Kam sighed. “We’d better thank her. Let’s find our clothes and arrange an offering. The local village should have something.”

They dressed and cleaned up at the public beach house. Fortunately, most of their injuries and bruises were covered by their jeans and lightweight jackets. When they set out to collect an offering, it took a while to find a shop still open. The gift boutique at a tourist hotel finally produced a handful of selections: a large, flat-bottomed basket, a white candle, a bag of pink and green soaps shaped like fish, and several colored ribbons. Seth purchased two bottles of champagne and a couple of glasses from the bar.

“Having a private party?” The bartender winked at him.

“Celebrating our escape from the storm,” Seth said.

“What storm? It hasn’t rained around here for more than a week.”

Kam and Seth looked at one another.

Seth recovered. “Just our little joke.”

The barkeep blinked in confusion, clearly puzzled but not curious enough to pursue it. He was probably used to tourists saying all kinds of bizarre things, especially after an evening of drinking.

When they returned to the beach, Seth carried the basket decorated with bows made from the ribbons. Inside, Kam’s purchases and a bottle of the champagne sat on a bed of dry seaweed, surrounded by shells and pretty stones they’d collected along the beach.

They kicked off their shoes, waded into the edge of the water, and popped open the second bottle of champagne. Raising their glasses in a toast, they thanked the water spirit for sparing them, then placed the basket on the water, shoved it out to sea, and returned to the beach.

“Do you think she heard us?” Kam leaned her head against Seth’s shoulder.

“I do, if she’s what we think she is.” He turned Kam into his arms. “I hope she understands how grateful I am to have more time with you.” He hummed the beginning of an elven song, and Kam softly added the words. They swayed in time to the music, dancing barefoot on the beach, and watched the basket drift outward until it blended with the horizon.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Despite their exhaustion, Kam and Seth stopped on their way home to pick up egg biscuits to reheat for breakfast, and it was after midnight when they climbed the stairs and opened the hallway door close to their New Orleans’ condo. Seth suddenly put out his hand to stop her. “Someone’s at our door.”

But Kam shoved the bag of biscuits into his hands and ran toward the hunched figure. “Esty. What’s wrong? What are you doing in New Orleans?”

Her sister sat on the floor, her back propped against the door. “Oh, you’re home.” Esty got stiffly to her feet. “I’ve come to spend the night.”

Kam stared at her. “OK.” She drew out the word. “What’s this about?”

Seth unlocked the door and urged them toward it. “Shall we talk inside?”

As soon as the apartment lights came on, Esty’s puffy eyes and tear-streaked face increased Kam’s alarm. She put her arm around Esty, ignoring the pain of her cracked rib, caught a whiff of her sister’s hair and wrinkled her nose. “Honey, what happened? You smell like smoke. Are mother and father OK?” Esty nodded, but the question produced a new round of tears, and Kam steered her toward the living room sofa. “Seth, would you make us some tea?”

“You bet.” He stepped into the kitchen.

Kam sat beside Esty and held her hand, running all kinds of scenarios through her head. “Now tell me what’s going on. Where was the fire? Not our house?”

“N-o-o. A barn.”

“Who’s barn? What were you doing at a barn?” And following a sudden suspicion, she added, “Does this have something to do with Rhyden?”

“No. Yes.” Her sister finally shook her head. “Not really. Father and I had a big fight.”

“Esty! You and he never fight. Not once that I remember.”

“Well, we have now. All I wanted to do was take a bath and go to bed. But he yelled at me.” Esty’s voice trembled.

“This was all about a fire?” Kam struggled to understand. “And you just left home?”

Esty’s head bobbed up and down. “I told Mother I was going to stay with you.”

Kam blinked, a little shocked her younger sister would do this, and definitely confused. “You better start at the beginning.”

“Maybe this will help.” Seth handed each of them a cup of tea. “Would you like me to make myself scarce?”

“No, Rhyden’s in trouble too…and it’s all my fault. You might as well hear it from me.”

Kam could tell Seth didn’t want to stay, although Rhyden’s name had sparked his interest. They’d already had a hell of a night, and feminine tears were enough to make most men uncomfortable. Seth was no exception. But he took a seat and waited for Esty to pour her heart out.

And she did—from begging Rhyden for help, to meeting Merik, following Everins, the horrific barn fire, and father demanding Rhyden leave their home. Sometimes Kam had to read between the lines of her story to know part of the problem was Rhyden’s failure to pursue a romantic relationship. Esty wasn’t clear whether she was most angry at her father for ordering Rhyden to leave or at Rhyden for leaving.

“He should have stood his ground,” Esty fumed.

“And done what?” Kam asked dryly. “Punch father in the nose?” She was torn between sympathizing with her sister’s struggles to grow up—a battle for independence Kam had recently fought—and wanting to strangle her sister for getting involved in something as risky as the duchaen rebellion. She had similar conflicted emotions about Rhyden. What were these two thinking? And the barn fire was the last straw.

Seth sighed. “Perhaps I should go over to Rhyden’s and talk to him.”

“No. You can’t do that.” Esty threw out her hand as if she would physically restrain him.

“Why not?” Seth asked reasonably. “I’m sure he’s as upset as you are.”

Her sister’s distraught face made the problem obvious. Esty feared she’d revealed her raw feelings for Rhyden and that Seth would tell him.

Kam caught Seth’s gaze, hoping he’d take the hint. “Why don’t you call, make sure he’s OK, and leave any explanations for tomorrow? I think we’re all tired.”

“It is awfully late,” Esty said wearily. “Where were you for so long?” For the first time she really looked at Kam and sat up straight. “Are those bruises on your face and arms?”

“Hazards of the job, and too long a story for tonight. I’m fine, but I would like to get to bed. Let’s set you up with the daybed.”

While Esty showered and washed her hair to get rid of the smoke smell, Kam stayed nearby and let her talk until she was finally tucked into bed. Then Kam took her own shower, blow-dried her hair, and joined Seth in the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, a scowl on his face.

“Can you believe this?” She slipped into the oversize T-shirt and shorts she often wore to bed.

“I called Rhyden and kept it casual. He didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t mention Esty was here. Tomorrow’s soon enough.” Seth gave a disgusted sigh. “Rhyden should have known better.”

She picked up a brush and stood before a wall mirror, detangling her hair. She watched Seth’s reflection. “I’m sure he did, and on his own, he might have come to us before getting involved in such a scheme. But Esty can be very persuasive.”

“Headstrong.” Seth smiled. “A talent of the Ryndel women.”

“I prefer the word ‘determined,’” she said, arching a brow. “I think we have enough charm to handle our father…but I’m positive it won’t work on Brunic. Not if he gets wind Esty and Rhyden were at the fire.”

“I’m more worried they’ve become targets of a killer.”

She spun around. “Killer? What killer?”

“You’ve been too caught up in Esty’s feelings to think it through. They followed Everins to the area, then a fire breaks out, trapping what could have been dozens of victims. And at least a few didn’t get out. It seems likely Everins set it.”

Kam sank on the bed beside him, the brush still in her hand. “Sweet Mother Earth.”

* * *

The following morning, Rhyden stood stiffly at the windows in Seth’s office, staring out at the city…or probably nothing. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “What a screwed up situation.”

Seth leaned back in his desk chair. When he arrived an hour ago, he’d found Rhyden waiting, swamped by guilt. Seth had let him talk it through—essentially the same story Esty had told, ending with the fire—but the part Rhyden kept returning to was Esty’s fight with her father and leaving home.

“Why would he do that?”

“Do what? Order you to leave? By the gods, Rhyden, what did you expect? I’d probably hold you responsible too.”

“I know that,” Rhyden muttered bitterly. “But why take it out on Esty? And why would he let her go? This is all my fault.”

“Not entirely.” After an hour, it was time for a little perspective. “Esty’s a grown woman if a bit impulsive. How she handled her father is her own decision. Just like she followed Everins on her own.”

Rhyden swung around. “Because I’d encouraged her in this rebel thing. I should have said no the first day. If Everins set that fire, he’s a cold-blooded murderer. What if he’d caught her spying on him?”

Now they were at the crux of the matter. “But he didn’t.” Seth picked up his coffee mug, crossed to the pot on a side credenza, and poured a refill. “Too much is wrong already to play what if games. We’ll straighten this out with Sawyer. Maybe not today, but he’ll eventually realize you did what you could to protect her.”

Rhyden frowned. “I don’t care what Sawyer Ryndel thinks of me.”

“Don’t you?”

Rhyden ignored the question. “Esty shouldn’t be estranged from her family. She’s not ready to be on her own.”

“She’s with Kam, and she’s fine. If you want to do something for her, face up to what’s happening between you two.”

Rhyden narrowed his eyes. “Nothing’s happening. I haven’t touched her. Not really.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Seth sighed, decided not to pursue what “not really” meant, and returned to his seat. They had bigger problems to deal with, and Rhyden’s private life should be…well, private. “OK, I give up. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Suits me.” Rhyden flexed his shoulders and dropped into a chair across from Seth. “I’m going to see Merik Trevain today. People were killed in the fire. I can’t withhold my suspicions of Everins from Brunic.”

“The captain will play the heavy that it took you this long to come to him—and he’s probably entitled—but I wouldn’t give up your efforts with Merik no matter what Brunic says. I see the value in bleeding off Jermon’s supporters one by one. And someone has to identify and stop the leak. They’re using our portals to stay in touch with him.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t intend to quit, but I don’t think I’ll mention it to the captain.”

Seth threw him a wry smile. “Wise plan.”

“Any new leads to Jermon?”

After filling him in on the rest of the search, Seth ended with the strange events on the island. “For a while, I thought the lava caves might provide an answer for Trystan,” Seth said. “But the raw magic we found isn’t worth defying the mysterious forces guarding it. We could easily have died there, and I want no further dealings with the fairy people.”

Rhyden finally stood and stretched. “So for now, we continue on. Am I square with you and Kam?”

Seth placed a hand on Rhyden’s shoulder as he walked him toward the door. “With me, of course. I can’t speak for Kam, but she knows her sister pretty well. Get straight with Esty. You may be surprised how other things will magically fall into place.”

“That’s your best advice?”

Seth clapped him on the back. “The hard-won voice of experience, cuz.”

* * *

Brunic wasn’t as forgiving. He rested his beefy arms on his office desk, leaned forward, and glared at Rhyden. “We might have saved the fire victims if you’d come to me.”

“Now just a minute.” Rhyden had arrived feeling guilty for hiding his own activities, but he wasn’t taking responsibility for everything Everins did. “You knew his name—even before I did. Besides, he has no history of violence. There was no warning he’d do something like this.”

“Jermon’s conspirators brought guns into Elvenrude for a forceful takeover last winter. What more evidence do you need?”

“If you can prove Everins was involved, why haven’t you arrested him?”

“You know I can’t prove it.” Brunic stood abruptly. “The rebels have kept their activities and membership well hidden.” He swung around and beetled his brows. “Are you sure this Trevain fellow can be trusted? Isn’t he one of them?”

“He’s part of the duchaen rebellion, but I’m convinced he wants this violent faction stopped as badly as we do.”

“Oh, yeah?” The captain snorted in disbelief. “Then why isn’t he in here giving me names?”

“It may come to that.” Rhyden knew he had to give Brunic something more. “If he can’t disband them on his own, he’s promised to turn them in.”

“In a month? A year?” Brunic waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve been hoodwinked, and I’ve half a mind to lock him up until he talks.”

“And blow it all?” Rhyden narrowed his eyes. “You have absolutely no grounds to hold Merik. Let this play out, Captain.”

Brunic glared at him, his frustration evident. “If he’s such a good citizen, what’s he waiting for? More people to die?”

* * *

Kam’s day started with a message from Elvenrude. She’d sent a note to her mother last night verifying Esty’s arrival and asking about the situation at home. She found a reply that had come in overnight. It was addressed to both of them.

My dearest daughters,

Your father was badly frightened by last night’s events. As I was. I know he regrets many things that were said, and I believe he will regain perspective.

Estelle, I’ve accepted that my children must make their own way in life, but come home when you’re ready. Be assured of your welcome. I take comfort knowing you are with Kameo.

Your friend Ellyn stopped this morning to let you know she is fine. Her father is sending her to relatives until the unrest is over. Someone named Merik will know how to reach her if necessary.

I love you both. Fairy dreams and hugs, Mother

Kam set the note on the granite kitchen counter and looked at her sister. “Want a cup of tea or coffee?”

Esty nodded and turned to pick up the kettle. “I’ll fix the tea. I guess he’s still angry.”

“That’s how I read it. It won’t last. Father might be over it by now but not ready to admit it.”

“I hope you’re right, but I’m not going home yet. I shouldn’t have to sneak around and hide my friends or activities.”

“Are you referring to chasing desperate ruffians in the dark or nearly being burned to death?” Kam softened the sarcasm to avoid making things worse. “Come on, Esty. You’re not trained for that kind of risk. And our parents have never objected to our friends. Give them a break.”

Esty concentrated on pouring tea and didn’t say anything.

Kam studied her sister’s serious, almost mulish face. It must be hard for her parents to adjust to Esty’s maturing thoughts and feelings. Kam had struggled to hide the depths of her alarm when Esty spilled out the story of her friendship with Ellyn and the secretive trips at night in her efforts to unmask the rebel splinter group.

She stifled a twinge of remorse for the anguish her own lifestyle must cause their parents. And she didn’t tell them everything. Not even close. She’d never mentioned the depth of her despair when she’d been imprisoned for days in a dungeon, or that she’d been shot deep in the mines and would surely have died if not for the titanite vest. She definitely wouldn’t be describing her close call in the lava tunnel.

“So what do you plan to do?” Kam asked, breaking the silence.

“Can I stay a couple of nights? I’ll go home after that, but I really need a little space.”

“As long as you like. Seth and I won’t mind, but we could be suddenly called away if someone spots Jermon. Will you be OK here alone?”

Esty rolled her eyes. “Really? How can you ask me that?”

“Years of habit.” Kam laughed. “But if you’re going to be a grownup now, send a message to Mother so she won’t worry. And try to call or leave me a note when you’re away from the condo. I’ll do the same. I guess the first thing we should do is get you a phone. As soon as your note is sent, we’re going shopping.”

Kam and Esty spent several hours in New Orleans’ shops. Esty bought a phone and a few new clothes that didn’t smell of smoke and were more appropriate for the Louisiana weather. Once the serious shopping was done, they’d roamed the small shops and markets along Decatur Street. Dusk had fallen by the time they finally stopped for lattes and beignets at a French Quarter cafe.

“Not that I’ll be hungry after this,” Kam said. “But I bet Seth is thinking about dinner. I’m about shopped out anyway. What about you?”

Before Esty could swallow a mouthful of pastry to answer, Kam’s phone rang. She smiled. “Here he is now. Hi, sweetie.”

“Where are you?”

She straightened at his sharp tone. “The Quarter. Why?”

“Your father’s here with me. He needs to talk with both of you.”

“Oh, OK. We’ll be there as soon as we finish—”

“No, you don’t understand. Merik Trevain’s been stabbed.”

Kam gasped, repeated his words to Esty, and hit the speaker button so her sister could hear. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet. But there’s more. Rhyden was the last person seen with him… and now he’s disappeared. Brunic wants to question him about a charge of attempted murder.”

* * *

“Where is Rhyden? Why would he try to kill Merik?” Esty demanded the moment she and Kam burst into Seth’s office. Both women were breathing hard from a sprint across town carrying the multiple bags from today’s shopping trip.

Sawyer Ryndel sat on the near side of the round, polished-wood conference table; Seth leaned against the corner of his desk. Sawyer half-rose, then dropped back in his chair when Esty went to Seth first. Kam gave her father a nod of greeting.

“I don’t know where he is, Esty.” Seth straightened and took her hands in his. “I’m leaving in a few minutes to find him. Brunic’s overreacting. A touch of guilt, maybe. Apparently, he told Rhyden that Merik was playing him false. Now, he’s got it in his head Rhyden confronted Merik with the accusation and stabbed him during a fight.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t either. He’d be more likely to bloody Merik’s nose.”

Sawyer Ryndel stood and approached his younger daughter. “If it matters, I doubt it too. I may have thrown him out of my house, but it doesn’t mean I consider him capable of murder.”

Esty’s chin came up. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Probably not,” her father agreed. “I was angry.”

She stared at him, nonplused. “You’re not angry anymore?”

“Not like I was. I still have strong feelings about my daughter’s impetuous behavior.” His eyes strayed to Kam. “But it appears to run in the family.”

“Hey, I had no part of this,” Kam said, putting a hand on her hip. “Maybe you should at least hear her side of the story.”

“It would have been more timely before the fact.” Her father’s gaze was back on Esty. “But I’d welcome the opportunity. Thanks to your mother and Seth, I’ve heard parts of it. For the moment, the more immediate concern is Rhyden’s whereabouts and keeping him out of jail.” He gave Seth an unreadable look. “Since my daughters became entangled with the Lormarc men, I haven’t been quite sure which side of the law I’m on.”

His lips twitched, and Kam cut off an automatic protest. Only a few months ago he’d helped her and Seth escape Brunic’s efforts to detain them on bogus charges of treason. Perhaps he had a point.

“I assure you it’s the unusual circumstances, sir. Not the bloodline.” Seth kept a straight face, as if he realized Sawyer’s hint of humor and the reprimand were inseparable.

Kam’s father gave a brief shake of his head. “So, where do we start looking for Rhyden? Did he tell you what he was doing today?”

“Only that he was seeing Merik and Captain Brunic…which he apparently did. I thought he’d be back hours ago,” Seth said. “When and where was Trevain attacked?”

“At his home about an hour after Rhyden met with Brunic. A friend found him unconscious. The healers were still working on him when I came to New Orleans.”

“Someone should tell Ellyn,” Esty said. “I know she cares for him. I should go back to Elvenrude and find her. Then we can all look for Rhyden.”

“No.” The word echoed three times from her father, Kam, and Seth.

Esty put a hand on her hip in unconscious imitation of her sister. “Rhyden wouldn’t be in trouble if not for me.”

“We don’t know he’s in trouble, except from possible arrest,” Seth said.

Kam intervened before Esty got her back up. “Why don’t you send a note to Ellyn’s mother? She can get a message to your friend about Merik.”

“That’s a good idea.” Esty took a paper and pen from Seth’s desk and started writing. “But it won’t keep me from looking for Rhyden.”

Sawyer Ryndel and Seth both looked at Kam. She simply shrugged. How could she tell Esty not to do what Kam herself would do?

“Before we jump to conclusions, let me look for him first,” Seth said. “He could be visiting family or supervising some aspect of the business on the Elvenrude end. I’ll be back in an hour with or without him.” He looked at the older man. “Make yourself at home. This might be a good chance to, um, talk.”

Kam followed Seth to the portal. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Not yet. I won’t be long. I think the Ryndels need a little family time.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not sure I can help with the talk they need to have. I see both sides. But I suppose one of us should be here if anyone locates Jermon.” Her expression tightened, worry turning her eyes a deeper shade of blue. “Watch your back, my love. We don’t know what’s happened to Rhyden. It may be nothing…but there’s been a deadly arson and an attempted murder in Elvenrude in the last twenty-four hours.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rhyden rearranged his wool scarf to cut out the chill draft and leaned nonchalantly against the post of the recently lit lantern outside Keiley’s Pub. He tried to appear as if he was waiting for someone, but it wouldn’t be believable for much longer in the dropping temperature. He’d have to change positions.

Esty’s plan to tail Kurzi Everins to the rest of the rogue gang had merit, and with her in New Orleans, safely out of trouble, this was the perfect time to follow up on his own. But he’d searched the entire village—the man had disappeared. Everins must have anticipated the Guard would be looking for him after last night’s fire.

Running out of better ideas, Rhyden had returned to watch the tavern where Kam had seen the crossbreed rebel once before. An hour ago, a heavily bundled man entered the pub. He’d glanced over his shoulder before closing the door, and Rhyden was nearly positive the face he’d glimpsed was Everins’s. Rather than tip his hand by following him inside, Rhyden continued to wait. If the man was lying low, he wouldn’t risk exposing himself for an afternoon of drinking. It had to be business, a meeting maybe, and he should be out soon.

Rhyden rubbed his hands together. It was cold and damp—the kind of weather that worked its way into the bones—and overcast, deepening the gathering dusk. He heard the door open and stepped away from the lamppost as if he was leaving. He kept his head down and glanced sideways as he passed. A man came out of the pub. Not Everins. But the next man was. The two men exchanged a few quiet words, then turned in opposite directions. Everins headed east. Rhyden waited until the first man was out of sight and Everins was far down the street. Then he turned around and followed.

The rogue leader seemed in a hurry, increasing to a brisk pace. Everins walked with this head down and his focus straight ahead. They turned two corners and curved down a winding lane that was sparsely settled, with more than three or four carriage-lengths between houses. Everins made a sharp left between two stately oaks and disappeared.

Rhyden paused next to the oaks and studied the dark, narrow path. Everins was already out of sight. Rhyden listened for a second, heard nothing, and hurried to follow before he lost him entirely.

A twig snapped a second before a burlap bag dropped over his head. Instant darkness and a primal fear response created a moment of sheer panic. Rough hands grabbed and threw him to the ground, securing him while he was kicked and beaten by fists and hard-toed boots, subduing his struggles until his hands and feet were bound with heavy rope. He tried to shout, but the sounds were muffled by the suffocating bag, and the ties pulled so tightly around his throat his total focus became the act of breathing. He was lifted, slung over someone’s broad back, and carried away.

Rhyden retained no sense of direction. Trussed like a killed deer, he could only bounce helplessly and try to catch a breath…and then another. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably less, his captors dumped him on the hard ground.

Ouch, dammit. His momentary panic had long since fled, and he was angry, hoping they’d remove this abominable hood and give him a chance to get in a swing or two. Somebody was going to pay for this.

He finally realized the sounds of activity around him had ceased. He was alone. Straining to hear any small sound, Rhyden waited another minute or two for someone to return, and then set about the business of freeing himself, twisting and pulling his hands. The ropes cut into his wrists, but he made steady progress. Encouraged, he increased his efforts, ignoring the growing pain. Twist, pull. Twist, pull.

Sometime later, one hand slipped out, and the ropes fell free. He loosened the strings at his throat as fast as his partially numb fingers could work. Finally he jerked off the suffocating hood and lay back gulping in the crisp air.

It was dark all around him. Night had fallen with even colder temperatures, and he was in danger of exposure from the cold if he didn’t move soon. Or his assailants might yet return. He bolted upright. He wasn’t waiting around for that. He pulled the ropes off his ankles and stood, peering around.

He was on foot in the middle of a forest. But which forest? He rubbed his arms and jumped up and down to get his circulation moving. Then he studied the rising moon and sky through the branches of the trees. Brierwood should be that way. He started walking.

* * *

Seth’s allotted hour in Elvenrude was almost up. The village buzzed with the attack on Merik Trevain, and he’d ascertained the man was still alive. But he hadn’t found Rhyden or even a hot trail. He’d visited relatives and scoured the village. He knew a lot of places Rhyden wasn’t, but not one clue to where he was. He hated to leave, even to gather reinforcements. His skin crawled with an eerie feeling his cousin needed help.

He stopped under a street lantern. What was he missing? Where had Rhyden gone from Brunic’s office?

Seth rubbed his chin and thought about it. What would he be doing if he were in Rhyden’s shoes? If someone had set a fatal fire and nearly burned Kam to death, he’d be looking for the killer. Seth nodded grimly. Rhyden was after Kurzi Everins.

So where would that lead him?

Backtracking to open shops and pubs, even strangers on the street, he asked if anyone had seen Everins that day. Not one positive response. But he learned others had sought the same information—the King’s Guard…and a man in a dark cloak last seen outside Keiley’s pub.

His mouth curled in a grim smile. Rhyden.

Seth entered the dimly lit tavern, ignored the unfriendly looks, and scanned the room. He hadn’t expected to find him, but he felt a twinge of disappointment anyway. He left without speaking to the barkeep. No one in that area of the village would give the correct time of day to an Elite elf.

Assuming Everins showed and Rhyden followed him—big assumptions, but what else did he have?—where would they go from there? The rogue leader had ridden away on horseback the night Kam located him. Is that what happened this evening? If so, they could be anywhere in the surrounding farms, forests, or even the foothills and mountains.

Seth clenched his jaw in frustration. Too big a search to do alone. He was already overdue in New Orleans. The others would help…and maybe he’d recruit Captain Brunic. If Rhyden had been injured or captured, temporary incarceration on false charges would be better than what a rogue band of killers might do.

He walked briskly toward the guild’s portal and skirted the edge of town to pick up a shortcut. That’s when he saw the drunk stumble out of the woods.

He watched the man’s unsteady progress. There was something vaguely familiar… By the gods. He took off running, quickly closing the distance. “Rhyden?”

The man lifted his head and limped toward him. “Hey, cuz, about time you found me. I’ve been walking forever.”

“What happened?” Seth grabbed his cousin’s shoulders. “How badly are you hurt? Who did this?”

“I don’t know. Just get me out of Elvenrude before they find us.”

* * *

When Seth and Rhyden arrived at the Lormarc Guild on the New Orleans side, Seth immediately spotted Kam and Esty running toward them. He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Another fifteen minutes, and we were coming after you.” Kam looked at Rhyden and pushed them back into the portal. “Let’s go to our apartment.”

In the light of Kam and Seth’s kitchen, Esty finally noticed Rhyden’s injuries. “Oh, your hands. They’re raw and bleeding. Who did this?” Her forehead wrinkled in distress. “They must hurt awfully.”

“Not as much as my ribs,” he said, moving gingerly toward the kitchen table with Seth supporting him. “Can I just sit a minute?”

Kam disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a first aid kit. “Esty, you might as well help me. If you’re going to hang around with Lormarc men, you better get used to patching up their injuries.”

Esty proved to be an excellent healer. Gentle, sure-handed, and no-nonsense. “You are not all right,” she declared when Rhyden balked at removing his shirt in front of her, and she didn’t blush when she finally tugged it off, revealing his bare chest.

While Rhyden’s bruises and cuts were cleaned and treated with elven salve, Seth prepared honey tea and shoved two herbal painkillers into Rhyden’s free hand. “Once you’ve taken these, the ribs should be tolerable, then you can tell us what happened.”

Esty bent over her patient. “The pills will make you feel better, but your ribs will heal faster if they also get a dose of this.” She held out the can of salve. “Hold out your arms, so I can reach them.”

“What? No. I can put it on myself.” He dipped his fingers in and smeared ointment over his rib cage. “I can do this just fine.”

“You can’t reach your back.” She scooped a glob into her hands and slathered it on his back, rubbing it deep into the skin.

Rhyden closed his eyes at her touch, and Seth turned away to hide a smile. He caught Kam’s equally amused look, and they retreated to the far counter to fix coffee. She opened the cabinet and retrieved the bag of beignets they’d brought back from their shopping trip.

Once the coffee was ready, and Rhyden’s pain pills had kicked in, Kam and Seth returned to the kitchen table while Rhyden related his misadventure in Elvenrude.

“It was Kurzi Everins and his gang,” Esty declared when he’d finished.

“Yeah, I suppose so. He must have spotted me. But how did he arrange the ambush? They were waiting, just seconds after he disappeared down that path.”

“He told someone back at the pub.” Seth narrowed his eyes. “It could be more than a casual meeting place. Maybe we need someone to get a job on the inside. If Merik recovers—” He suddenly remembered Sawyer Ryndel had brought them the news of the stabbing. “Where’d your father go?”

“Her father was here?” Rhyden straightened, then winced and rubbed his side. “If Merik recovers from what?”

Uh-huh. Seth noted he’d asked about Esty’s father first. Rhyden was fighting a losing battle with himself.

“Our father went home,” Kam said. “He was afraid Mother would be worrying. I promised to stop by the house or send him a note if we found Rhyden, which I’ll do right now.” She pushed away from the table.

While she was gone, Seth explained what they knew about the attack on Merik, Sawyer’s arrival in New Orleans, and Captain Brunic’s suspicions.

“Holy hell. I was only gone a couple hours.”

“More than a couple. You’d already been missing at least that long when I went to Elvenrude two hours ago.”

“I wasn’t really missing most of the time. I was looking for Everins. But I might have been in the woods longer than I thought.”

“You were out of contact long enough to make your absence look suspicious and send Brunic looking for the wrong man.”

“Is that why his attackers left him alive?” Kam asked, returning to the table after sending the message to Elvenrude. “Because they needed someone to place the blame on?”

“Kam, that’s an awful thing to say.” Esty tightened her lips at her sister’s bluntness.

“Well, I wondered about it too,” Rhyden said. “I thought it was a warning, and they didn’t want the hue and cry from another murder. But maybe it was more than that. A scapegoat for murder?”

“Not a very good one.” Kam eyed his obvious rope burns.

“Unless he’d healed by the time Brunic caught up with him,” Esty added. “Then it would only be his word.”

Rhyden shrugged and licked powdered sugar from his lips. “I even considered they were under the mistaken impression Uncle Jermon would object to them killing a Lormarc.”

“Not if they knew him well,” Seth said.

“Very true. Whatever their reason, I applaud it.” Rhyden took a sip of hot tea and grinned. “This would taste better with a little bourbon.” He set it down, and his humor faded. “Have you had an update on Merik’s condition?”

Kam spoke up. “When I sent the note to Father, Barrott said Merik’s condition hasn’t changed. We should know more by morning, but I think it’s a good sign he’s made it this long.”

“He’s strong,” Rhyden said. “I admit he’s grown on me, and I think we need him to help put an end to the rebel violence.”

“I’d say Jermon agrees with you and ordered Merik’s death.” Seth set his coffee down. “We’d never heard of Everins until recently. I don’t believe he’s bold enough to initiate the recent attacks without Jermon’s guiding hand. If we could cut off the contact, Everins would be on his own.”

“And might make a mistake,” Esty finished. She looked at Kam. “Can’t you find out who’s gone through the portal or sent messages?”

“Sure. They’re all recorded. We’ve already checked all of the visitors, but going through messages would be a huge job. There are thousands in one week, most of them related to private guild business.”

“Isn’t that something I could do?” Esty asked. “Surely even Father would approve of a desk job.”

Seth immediately championed the idea before Rhyden or Kam issued a veto. “I don’t see why not. As long as you’re OK with tying up your time that way.” It sounded like the perfect solution. Esty would be out of trouble and where Kam could keep an eye on her. And Rhyden—whose pretended indifference wasn’t fooling anyone except maybe Esty—could stop obsessing over the next risk she’d take.

“Someone should do it, and no one else in Elvenrude is privy to our business terms and practices. They wouldn’t recognize what’s normal and what’s not. If I can’t figure it out, I can ask questions at the guilds without trade secrets going outside our families. The rest of you will be too busy chasing Jermon and Everins.” Her enthusiasm faded. “I’d rather be doing that too.”

“You will be,” Kam said. “Just in a different way.”

“Yeah, out of the action.” Esty lifted her chin. “But I’ll do it. I’ll surprise you all and find the leak.”

Rhyden shifted his shoulders in obvious discomfort, and Seth suggested they end the evening. When his cousin nodded and rose, Seth accompanied him to the portal. Rhyden seemed unusually subdued. “You OK or you need me to tuck you in?”

Rhyden flashed him a grin. “And a bedtime story? No, I can manage. All I need is a goodnight’s sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have to talk with Brunic…again. And hold back nothing this time.”

“I’ll go with you, but I’m not sure you should confess all. Let’s have coffee in the morning and go over exactly what to tell him. There are still parts—about Esty in particular—he never needs to know.”

“On that, we’re in perfect agreement.”

Seth glanced sideways at Rhyden’s face. “Someone should marry that girl. If you’re not interested, I may have to fix her up.”

Rhyden slowly turned his head and looked at him. “Shut up, Seth.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Seth and Rhyden left Brunic’s office with their ears ringing. Rhyden’s temporary commission as a special King’s Guard had been rescinded, but he wasn’t under arrest or even a murder suspect. Instead, a formal King’s Summons had been issued for Kurzi Everins to answer to charges of criminal activities against the kingdom. It was a big step in the right direction, if anyone could find him.

Brunic’s final words to Rhyden followed them into the hallway. “From now on, stay out of my case…and my office.”

“Well, that was pretty definite,” Seth said wryly.

“Fortunately, he no longer has any authority over me.” Rhyden grinned. “I feel like a free man. I don’t think I was cut out for law enforcement ranks.”

Seth laughed. “You could be right. Our family seems to have an unruly side.”

“And proud of it.” Rhyden chuckled, then his face clouded. “But no one else is anything like Jermon. That’s one blot on our family name I wish we could erase.”

“I consider it a family duty to hunt him down. With any luck, he won’t set foot in Elvenrude again. Alive or dead.”

“The earth is a huge world. Do you really think you can track him down?” Rhyden glanced at Seth as they stepped into the Lormarc Guild portal.

Seth picked up the conversation on the New Orleans’ side. “A lot of people are looking. So far, we’ve been one step behind, but we know what he’s looking for, and now we have Tad’s list.” He glanced at Rhyden. “There’s still an unknown piece of his scheme. Jermon’s angle. He wouldn’t go to this much effort for Dreysel or Cyrilia.”

Rhyden gave a derisive snort. “It boggles the imagination.”

“I keep worrying there’s an unknown risk linked to Jermon’s search for obsidian. He wants Elvenrude, so how’s he going to get it? Storm the portals with an army? Risky, bloody, and uncertain of long-term victory. He’d want better odds. I don’t see how the obsidian gives him that. The court mystics deny there’s anything dangerous about the volcanic glass, but they’re going to say whatever Seliwyn wants to hear.” Seth cut his eyes toward Rhyden. “When you’re in Elvenrude, why don’t you discuss the possibilities with Murielle? Take Esty with you. Murielle’s close to the Ryndel family.”

“The wise woman out by Hidden Falls?” When Seth nodded, Rhyden frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—taking Esty.”

“Why?”

“There’s her father.”

“Yes, and…?”

Rhyden pulled at his collar. “She’d slow me down, and I don’t have the extra time.”

“Make time. Murielle will be more comfortable talking with someone she knows.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rhyden said with a sigh.

Seth grinned. “Watching you squirm? And make up excuses? Yes. Ready to talk about it?”

“No.”

Seth chuckled. “Coward.”

Rhyden gave him a pained look.

They parted at the guild entrance. Seth headed for Kam’s office for the latest information from their spotters. Rhyden turned the opposite direction. Seth glanced back, shaking his head and wondering how long it would take Rhyden to call Esty.

* * *

Although smaller than similar facilities at the Lormarc Building, the new Ryndel showroom and purchase offices were tasteful and eye-appealing, enhancing the Quarter’s French styling with shining wood floors and ivory walls. Scattered among the glass-topped display tables, plush chairs and soft-leather couches in sea-foam green offered buyers an option to relax and inspect merchandise at their leisure. Kam had set up just the right atmosphere.

Skirting the showroom, Seth found her down the hall, seated at her office desk. To his surprise, Esty was at the conference table surrounded by stacks of printouts.

“Portal logs,” Kam said by way of explanation. “She was eager to start sorting the messages. How’d it go in Elvenrude?”

“Not bad. Rhyden’s no longer a special guard and was warned off any further investigation, but otherwise it’s straightened out.”

Esty raised her head at the mention of Rhyden’s name. “The captain took away his guard status?” Her face paled. “It’s my fault for getting him involved. Is he bummed?”

“He says not. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He turned his attention back to Kam. “Anything new on Jermon?”

“No sightings. But I’ve worked on the list. Prioritizing. Biggest collections, least security. Some of the collections aren’t well documented—at least not online. So I’m not positive what’s there.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “I also charted where we know they’ve already been, but I can’t see a pattern. Do you?”

He studied the data sheet. “Only the obvious. The majority are in the US and Mexico.” He pursed his lips. “That’s probably just ease of access. With the right documents, the elves or the cartel could walk or drive over the US border or use the drug tunnels.”

“The Mexicans can’t use the portal, but why wouldn’t the elves?”

“Maybe they are…within the US. But their transport power is limited without a large portal to draw from. They’ve got to be using our leakage. Not at that much. It makes distance hopping a problem, and they’d have to take a plane overseas.” Seth grinned at the thought. “Imagine Jermon’s annoyance with such travel. Slow, expensive, and painful for our sensitive eardrums.”

“Serves him right. So they aren’t likely to cross the ocean unless it’s a big score. That actually works to our advantage, since many of the older, more powerful finds of obsidian are in Africa and the Middle East…and therefore less accessible.”

“A good point.”

“Excuse me,” Esty suddenly said. “I hate to interrupt, but I have a question about these messages.”

“I have to be going anyway,” Seth said. “She’s all yours.”

“Actually, it was you I needed. Who from your guild would be sending business messages to associates outside the US?”

“Primarily Guild Master Henre, but Olseon on the Elvenrude side might send a few. Rhyden and I, of course, or one of our secretaries sending them on our behalf. Why? Have you found something wrong?”

“Not yet. I’m trying to determine what’s routine. Then I can isolate what doesn’t fit.” She looked up with a half grin. “There are a lot of messages.”

“Told you there were,” Kam said.

Esty made a funny face at her. Seth chuckled, kissed Kam good-bye, and left them to continue the sisterly sparring.

* * *

A few minutes later, Kam was interrupted by the phone. This time it was Rhyden.

“Seth mentioned Jermon might know a way to use obsidian to harm us or Elvenrude. He suggested asking Murielle how it could be done.”

“That’s a great idea. I should have thought of her. I don’t trust the king’s mystics. They’re too political. But Rhyden…” She grinned at the phone. “I thought Brunic told you to back off.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t very happy with me. So I’m staying out of his way. Murielle’s cottage should be far enough.”

The spirit woman who’d been the closest friend of Kam’s gifted godmother lived by herself on the edge of the foothills, surrounded by her gardens and a myriad of birds, butterflies, and garden fairies during the summer. At this time of year she might welcome some company.

“I’d love to see her, and I’d go with you, but I can’t leave New Orleans. If Jermon is spotted—”

“Seth suggested I take Esty.”

“Oh, well, OK. Ask her yourself.” Kam got up and handed the phone to her sister. “It’s Rhyden.”

An indefinable expression flashed across Esty’s face, but she put the phone to her ear with a casual “hello.” She mostly listened. When she hung up less than a minute later, she straightened the piles on the table and stood. “I guess I’m needed in Elvenrude.”

“Give Murielle a hug for me. I haven’t seen her since she used the root magic to make the anti-invisibility dust last summer.”

“That’s just it.” Esty’s brow puckered. “I thought she was all about plants. How much can she tell us about volcanic rock?”

“She uses earth magic. It’s more than plants. Obsidian may fall within her specialty. Anyway, she’s the closest thing we have to the ancient magicians.”

“Is there something in particular I should ask her or tell her?”

Kam thought about it. She was still bound by King Seliwyn’s oath, although Rhyden and Esty knew by now that obsidian was somehow at the heart of things. Still, she’d sworn not to reveal the rest. “Tell her Jermon is actively collecting obsidian, and ask if that could in any way endanger Elvenrude. Either it’ll make sense to her or it won’t.”

“I’ll grab my cloak from the apartment.” Esty headed for the door. “I should be home before supper. Maybe we can order pizza.”

“Only if I get to pick this time. Ham and pineapple.”

Esty flashed a grin over her shoulder before she closed the door. “Sure. You’re buying.”

* * *

Rhyden shifted his feet and adjusted his collar as he waited for Esty at the Ryndel Guild. This was the first time they’d been alone since the night of the fire…when she’d kissed him and he’d held her for a moment as if there was no tomorrow. Reality intervened before it went farther, but he wasn’t sure what she was thinking these days.

He heard the side door open and turned to see her hurrying toward him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. I had to get my winter cloak. It still seems strange the weather can be so different on opposite ends of the portal. Shall we go?”

“In a minute. Let’s talk first.” He gave her a serious look. “Why are you still in New Orleans? Is it this fight with your father?”

She blinked at him, then looked away. “I’m doing it for me. It’s time. Besides, I really want to help, to feel I’m doing something in this crisis. When it’s over, I’ll go home.”

He lifted a brow. “Do your parents know that?”

“You think I should tell them now.”

“Do you?”

“I was considering it.” She wound a finger around a dark curl. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not really angry anymore.”

So it was the first thing they did. Esty spoke privately with her father at the guild. He walked back with her when she met Rhyden near the front door and acted as if the disagreement of the other night had never happened. Not trusting the good mood to last, Rhyden reminded Esty they were short on time. Her mother was even more welcoming, and they had trouble breaking away to complete their errand.

“I feel better now. Thanks for pushing me. This time.” Esty threw him a smile as they approached the Ryndel Stables. Her father had suggested Rhyden borrow one of their horses to save time.

“I’ve always been surprised how good doing the right thing feels,” he said.

They talked on the ride, mostly about the Elvenrude situation and the hunt for Jermon. The awkwardness between them had dissolved in the first few minutes. Rhyden found he enjoyed brainstorming with her.

“If you need help with the data, I can find some time. Identifying the go-between would be a big step forward. I hate to say this, but look closely at our Guild and family. If Jermon trusted anyone, it would be another Lormarc or extended family. I’d suspect Olseon, our guild master on the Elvenrude side, except he buckles under stress. Maybe it’s one of the shift supervisors.”

“Your knowledge of these people would be helpful in sorting through suspects.”

“Then it’s settled.”

She shot him another smile, revealing that adorable dimple, and Rhyden looked away. Now what had he let himself in for? Even volunteered. Somehow all his good intentions vanished the moment Esty smiled at him. He nudged his horse forward to discourage further talk, but she said something he didn’t catch, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Rhyden stiffened. There was movement in the trees about a hundred yards behind them. A deer maybe, but it looked more like a horse and rider. He angled himself so he could continue talking yet keep one eye on that part of the woods. Even if it was a rider, it might be someone passing by on their own business.

But after five minutes, he was positive they’d picked up a tail. The other rider was taking an erratic course that kept him hidden in the woods but parallel with their own. Since the figure hadn’t moved closer, Rhyden just kept watch. Esty continued to chat, apparently unaware of the mysterious shadow.

Why the sudden interest in his or, gods forbid, her movements? Was it last night’s attackers again?

When they reached Murielle’s cottage and dismounted, Rhyden patted his horse’s neck and casually scanned the area. The rider had disappeared.

Esty tapped lightly on the door. Murielle answered immediately, her normal smile widening in recognition. She never seemed surprised to see anyone. Perhaps she had a touch of insight or it was merely her accepting nature. She led the way into the kitchen and the cozy hearth fire. “Please have a seat. I’m sure you could use a spot of hot honey tea.”

“Sounds lovely. How can I help?” Esty asked.

“You can get the mugs, if you like.” Murielle pointed to a corner cabinet of rustic alder wood covered with interesting knots and burls.

Esty crossed the room and stopped to glance out the window at the garden that had looked so inviting last summer. It was bare and dormant. “I miss the butterflies and flowers in winter. What happens to all your garden fairies when it gets so cold?”

“Oh, you know the wee people. They’re around,” Murielle answered vaguely. “I’m ready to pour.”

Esty hurried back with the glass mugs and set them on a finely stitched tablecloth of red and white. Once they were seated and had taken a few sips of the warming beverage, Murielle finally asked, “What brings you out on such a cold ride?”

Esty explained their mission as Kam had suggested. “Jermon Lormarc must have some reason he’s collecting obsidian. We’re concerned he could use it to harm Elvenrude. But we don’t know how.”

“It’s long been carved into weapons,” Murielle said. “But I doubt if that’s what he has in mind.” She gave Rhyden a piercing look. “He’s a relative of yours, isn’t he?”

“A great-uncle, I’m sorry to say.”

She squinted her eyes. “You don’t like him. I have never met Jermon but have heard much. I am encouraged to be blunt. Do you believe he is capable of evil?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Ah, you did not hesitate…even though you share a bloodline. That tells me much, and opens the door to unthinkable possibilities.” She gazed at nothing for a moment. “The king guards Elvenrude’s secrets—as he should—but my family has its own knowledge passed through time. I will share with you what the king will wish I hadn’t, but it is necessary. Elvenrude’s magic comes from obsidian born in the depths of the earth and cooled by its air and water. It sustains our entire life. The king guards this precious substance in a secret vault.”

Esty’s mouth dropped open, and she turned to stare at Rhyden. “I wonder if Kam knows.”

Mastering his own surprise, he remembered the small hints, the secret looks, since Seth and Kam had been summoned to accompany the king to Cyrilia. “I think she and Seth both know. It explains a lot.” He leaned forward, his face darkening with concern. “You think Jermon will attempt to steal it?”

“No, I don’t think that’s possible. Seliwyn will have it sealed away, and it’s protected by its own powerful magic.” The old woman hesitated. “But he might try to destroy it.”

“How? You just said it’s protected.”

“There is only one way. Anti-magic.”

Rhyden frowned. “Assuming he has it, what would it do? Leave us in the same plight as Cyrilia, gradually declining because the obsidian could no longer replenish our magic?”

She shook her head and fluttered both hands. “No. Much worse. The obsidian magic and its anti-magic are two sides of the same energy. For the two to meet would be catastrophic.”

“Define catastrophic,” Rhyden said.

Murielle sighed slowly. “It would shatter our world into nothing.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Rhyden stared at the mystic. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. Shatter. Like into pieces?

“Where would he get it—the anti-magic?” Esty’s voice was faint. She’d set her mug down, her face paler than usual.

“The magic that sustains us came from ancient obsidian, the purest, blackest form, and was harnessed for our use by a powerful ritual. Theoretically, the same or similar energy can be reversed by another ritual into anti-magic. If the two forms meet, they cancel one another…violently.”

“Even Jermon wouldn’t do that.” Esty’s eyes were wide, frightened now. “Doesn’t he want to rule Elvenrude? Why would he destroy it?”

“Trust me…he’s capable of anything.” Rhyden’s gaze moved back to Murielle. “How big an explosion would it be? Could we send our people through the portal to Cyrilia or back to earth?”

“I don’t have a definite answer, but the force might break the dimensional barriers and take the other worlds with it.”

Shocked at the enormity of what he’d heard, Rhyden leaned heavily back in his chair and swore under his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had no illusion Jermon would hesitate to take the ultimate revenge if things didn’t go his way. But surely his great-uncle would attempt blackmail first—give me your world or I’ll blow it up. If that happened, they’d have to give in to his demands. What else could they do?

“How difficult is the ritual?” he finally asked. “Is it safe? Could an explosion be set off accidentally by someone attempting the spell?”

Murielle lifted her shoulders, grabbing her shawl as it slipped off. “We’re speaking theory only. To my knowledge, it’s never been attempted.” She reached for the teapot, but her hands shook, and Rhyden refilled her cup. “It would require research and testing to discover the right ritual. And of course, a powerful mage. A million and one things could go wrong.”

Rhyden sucked in a breath. “But it could be done.”

Murielle hesitated. “Yes, I believe it could be done.”

They didn’t linger long. Rhyden was anxious to share Murielle’s terrifying insight with the others. Why hadn’t the king’s mystics warned them?

As soon as they were mounted, Rhyden reined his horse around to look at Murielle standing in the doorway. “Take care. Jermon may not yet have a mage to do his dirty work. Few people know the extent of your powers, but I’m not sure you’re safe out here by yourself. You should come with us to the village.”

“My dear boy, I’m not alone, but I will be careful. Things happen as they are intended.” She lifted her hand in a wave, smiled, and closed the door.

Rhyden urged his horse into a ground-eating canter. Murielle’s information had heightened his awareness of the dangers in Elvenrude, and he hadn’t forgotten the rider who’d followed them earlier. Esty should be returned to the safety of her home or New Orleans as soon as possible.

“Are you going to see the king?” Esty asked, keeping pace alongside.

“Eventually, but I want to talk with Seth and Kam first.” Rhyden’s gaze caught a flicker of movement to the left. The rider was back, staying just behind the first row of trees. He reined his stallion away from the tree line, then straightened his course when he spotted a second rider on the right.

Rhyden clenched his jaw and kept his voice down. “Don’t look either way, but we’re being followed. One on the left, another on the right.” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a Smith & Wesson, his preferred handgun.

“Rhyden.” Esty’s breathless voice sounded shocked. “You brought a gun into Elvenrude? How?”

“Never mind how. You don’t need to know.”

“I bet you used the portal safe. Other things have been smuggled in that way.”

“By the gods, Esty. How do you know that? Never mind.” He gave her an impatient look. “In this case I felt it was necessary. I’d rather be under arrest than dead. These guys are proven killers. I’m not going to give them a chance at us, but I won’t use the gun unless I have to. Now, stay with me. We’ll try to outrun them.”

“Wait. I know these woods. Remember how I got away the night of the forest meeting? I jumped the waterfall. There’s a clear landing on the other side, if you know where it is. Just follow me.”

He glanced at the riders who were gradually closing in from each side. “OK, but try not to break my neck. Go.”

They kicked their horses into greater speed and stretched into a flat run. Esty took the lead as they cut a sharp left several yards ahead of their nearest pursuer and plunged into the forest. She took them on a twisting path. Despite their efforts, the sounds of pursuit stayed close behind. As they neared the stream, Esty took her mare straight at the cascading water, leaped, and disappeared.

Not giving himself time to think about it, Rhyden sailed into the waterfall’s mist, and his sure-footed stallion slid to a halt on the far side. After exchanging a grin, Esty and Rhyden raced toward town.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dark had fallen by the time Kam and Seth met Rhyden and Esty at the Wharf pub that evening. Kam’s earlier plans for Hawaiian pizza had been discarded in favor of her favorite pub and its soft background of jazz music. She sipped her wine and waited for Rhyden or Esty to begin.

“You sounded uptight on the phone.” Seth eyed his cousin with speculation. “What’s the bad news?”

“If Murielle’s right, Jermon’s crazier than we thought. And by the way, Murielle told us the secret about black obsidian. We kind of needed to know for the rest of this to make sense.” After that surprise beginning, Rhyden, with Esty adding a few details, repeated what they’d heard from the wise woman. “Our great-uncle is messing with world-ending stuff.”

“Anti-magic.” The word sent a chill over Kam’s arms.

Jermon wasn’t crazy, but she knew exactly what he was. The night she’d exposed his plot against the king, Jermon’s face had twisted with unbridled hatred. If she hadn’t been so angry herself, so appalled by the cold-blooded murder she’d witnessed, she might have recoiled from the pure evil in his eyes.

“There’s still time to stop him,” Seth said. “He’s gathering obsidian randomly, so he hasn’t yet realized only the ancient forms carry the magic. He’s smart enough to notice it soon, but he can’t do the ritual himself. He needs a skilled mage from Elvenrude or Cyrilia. Either way, he’ll have to breach a heavily guarded portal.”

“That’s why he wanted the guns,” Kam said quietly. “The cartel mercenaries and their high-powered weapons.”

Rhyden stared at her, stunned again by this new twist. “She’s right. A machine gun or a couple of assault rifles could cut down everyone in the guild within seconds, and Jermon’s cross key would activate the portal. They’d be in Elvenrude within minutes.” Rhyden swore softly and downed a gulp of beer.

“Well, it’s not going to happen. There must be ways to stop them.” Kam pursed her lips in thought. “Bulletproof doors and windows on the guilds would be a good start.”

“And sprinkling the exterior with citerin dust to keep the elves from using invisibility to sneak through the doors,” Seth added. “If Jermon or the Cyrilians got inside, they’d let the Mexicans in. The dust will stop that.”

“Shouldn’t the king hide the mystics?” Esty asked.

“Sure. Those at the palace,” Seth said. “But others like Murielle are scattered throughout the countryside in both Elvenrude and Cyrilia—mystics who are little known but have the latent ability to wield such power if given the right spell and ingredients.”

“That’s a sobering thought,” Rhyden said darkly. “I tried to get Murielle to come to town, but she wouldn’t. I just hope we didn’t lead Jermon’s people to her door. We were followed.”

“By whom?” Seth demanded sharply.

“Two riders. I didn’t get a good look at their faces, did you?” Rhyden looked at Esty, and she shook her head no. “I saw one on the way out, two coming back. On the trip home, they tried to cut us off, but Esty took us over this harrowing waterfall leap, and we lost them.”

Kam couldn’t help smiling. That jump was damned scary the first time you took it. Seeing Rhyden’s face would have been worth a lot.

“Do you really think Murielle’s in danger?” Esty asked her sister. “They were chasing us, not her. Can she even do their spell? She’s the plant healer.”

“I’m not sure,” Kam said. “I suspect Murielle’s skills go beyond anything we’ve seen. Maybe she’s not at risk, but I’m going to ask father to have someone check on her.”

Rhyden shoved away the bottle of beer. “This whole situation sucks. I may go to Elvenrude to do some serious ale drinking.”

Seth barked a grim half-laugh. “I’d go with you if I thought it would help.”

“Well, it won’t.” Kam set down her wine as their food arrived. As soon as the waiter left, she pushed her untouched plate away. The conversation had ruined her appetite. “We have to warn King Seliwyn and Prince Trystan about this new risk, but our best chance at saving Elvenrude is to stop Jermon before he has the power.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do?” Rhyden grumbled.

“Of course, but the stakes have changed,” she said dryly. “We need to drop everything else. World apocalypse is rather motivating.”

His eyes suddenly widened. “We’ve seen increased rebel activity in Elvenrude. What if that means the rebels think they’re getting close?”

Kam lifted a brow. “As I said…motivating.”

* * *

Kam strolled through the Quarter shortly before nine the next morning, ignoring the foot traffic around her. While the men were spreading Murielle’s warning—Seth in Elvenrude, Rhyden in Cyrilia—she and Esty had worked at the office for two hours already. In truth, Kam had toyed with an idea most of the time. Fighting fire with fire. But could she pull it off? CIA agent Noah Crain might help her to locate the right people, but how could she station armed paramilitary units inside the guilds yet keep the portals and Elvenrude a secret? She wanted to run the possibility past her guild master before saying anything to Seth or several other people who would have to approve such a drastic measure. It would be a last ditch effort, to be used only if they didn’t find Jermon soon, but she wanted to be ready.

The Ryndel Guild was busy as usual with workers shifting goods back and forth between the portal and the shipping docks on the first floor. She climbed the stairs to Barrott’s balcony office. Ten minutes later, his mouth dropped open and he popped out of his chair when Kam mentioned the possibility of a surprise attack from armed human mercenaries. “Surely you’re exaggerating the danger.”

“I wish I was. Jermon and Dreysel have taken over a cartel of Mexican desperadoes. They’re armed with enough machine guns and semi-automatic weapons to wipe out our entire guild.”

He dropped back into his desk chair. “What can we do?”

“With enough warning, we could pull everyone back to Elvenrude and close the portals, although it’d be only a temporary solution. I’m more concerned they’ll catch us unprepared, before we realize they’ve gotten that far in their plans. There are steps we can take to prevent that. I made a list of them—building modifications, citerin dust, increased monitoring of the outside cameras.” She handed him the paper. “But if it comes down to a fight, I have another idea. It’s pretty extreme.” She explained, and Barrott’s face grew pale.

“Several months ago the king refused to arm our guards,” she reminded him. “And it’s too late now. They’d be amateurs going against pros. We need someone used to handling this type of weapon. But I don’t want to create another problem by exposing our existence and the portal to human scrutiny.” She studied his face. “What do you think? Is there a way to make this work?”

“Let me think about it.” He spoke slowly as if still taking in what she’d said. “It won’t be easy. That’s for sure.”

She left him to mull it over and dispatched the request for her father to check on Murielle. When she returned to her office, Esty and Rhyden had their heads together over the piles of messages.

“How’d it go in Cyrilia?” she asked.

Rhyden looked up and frowned. “Tad was with Trystan. How he can trust that little weasel…but I guess that’s his business. Tryst was shocked about the anti-magic. His brother wasn’t, thought it was something Jermon would try. But I kept wondering if Tad already knew. Anyway, Tryst is warning their mystics, and he’s closing the swamp portal. The only way in or out of Cyrilia will be through the two portals in our New Orleans’ guilds.”

“He’s doing it now? So soon?” Kam blinked in surprise.

“He thought Cyrilia was too vulnerable to wait, and he wanted to spend his time hunting for obsidian rather than guarding Cyrilia. So, yes, immediately. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already happened. He sent a message to King Seliwyn before I left, even though he plans to be in Elvenrude tonight.” Rhyden’s expression lightened. “I think Princess Theanne is visiting her father again.”

Kam gave a knowing smile and shook her head. Love flourished even in hard times. Trystan’s attraction to King Seliwyn’s only daughter was the worst-kept secret in the kingdom. Partly because Theanne had refused to play hard to get. Young and impetuous at times, despite her essentially steady nature, she’d talked about the handsome Cyrilian prince since the first day they’d met. Her normal residence was with her mother, the king’s estranged wife, at the royal summer home, but Theanne’s visits to the palace had been frequent the past six months…whenever Trystan was in town.

Kam settled at her desk, noticed the blinking lights on the landline, and checked on her missed messages. All routine business. She picked up a pen to jot down some responses. Then she set it down again, thinking about Rhyden’s visit to Cyrilia.

Surely Trystan wasn’t being fooled by Tad again. The younger prince had betrayed him—betrayed them all—by secretly joining Dreysel’s band of dissidents. Whether by his own designs or those of his friends, he’d become part of a New Orleans’ gang war, at least two murders, and an invasion of Elvenrude to break Jermon out of jail. How could Tryst ever trust him again? Should she say something? Would Tryst heed her warning?

Kam glanced at Esty. If it were her sister who’d committed such a betrayal, would she want someone to remind her? No way. Tryst should know his brother by now.

* * *

“Gods preserve us.” Brunic stared at Seth. His complexion turned gray, the veins at his temples bulging, and he shot to his feet. “If Murielle’s right, I must interrupt the king’s breakfast and warn him.” He rushed from the room, cutting the meeting short before Seth even mentioned Rhyden and Esty.

That was a relief. He rose and made his escape before Brunic returned with more questions. At the palace gate, he turned toward the Healers’ Temple. When he’d come through the portal, he’d learned Merik Trevain was conscious. Most of his physical wounds had already healed, and he would soon be released. Seth thought it was time they talked.

When he walked into the infirmary room, the duchaen leader was out of bed seated in apparent comfort in a wooden chair and talking with a young woman. From Esty’s description, Seth assumed the visitor was Ellyn, judging by her chestnut curls and lively brown eyes.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. If so, I can come back. I’m Seth—”

“I know who you are.” Trevain stood and faced him. “Have you come to chastise me for endangering your cousin and Estelle Ryndel?”

Although taken aback by Trevain’s defensive posture, Seth didn’t react to it. “To the contrary, I’ve come to ask for your help.”

“My help?” Trevain repeated.

“Why so surprised? If my cousin and Esty trust you, I don’t see why I shouldn’t. They’re convinced you have the best interests of Elvenrude at heart. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable if we sat down to talk?”

“Yes, of course.” Trevain hesitated and looked at Ellyn. “Do you mind?”

“I was leaving anyway,” she stood immediately.

“No need on my account.” Seth smiled at her. “Am I correct in thinking you’re Esty’s friend Ellyn?”

“I am. Is she well?”

“Yes, very much so. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

“Thank you. I’d love to stay, but I’ve used up my thirty minutes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Merik.”

“Come early, or I’ll be at home.”

Ellyn smiled. “I’ll find you.”

“I didn’t realize the temple limited visits to half an hour,” Seth said as they seated themselves after her departure.

Merik flashed a grin. “They don’t. But her father does. It was the only way he’d let her stay in Brierwood.”

“Um, yes, I’ve noticed fathers have a habit of over-reacting. You suppose we’ll be that way someday?”

“Undoubtedly. So how can I help you?”

“By putting Elvenrude first and your cause second. By accepting what I’m about to tell you without asking questions. I can’t answer them. And by keeping secret the parts I am about to tell you.” He paused, giving Trevain a change to react.

Merik raised a brow. “You have me intrigued. Go on.”

“I need to know who and how the Everins group is contacting Jermon Lormarc and cut off that access. On his orders our Cityside portals may soon be attacked by humans armed with high-powered rifles. If they fall, Jermon will invade Elvenrude, abduct a mystic or a group of mystics, and complete a ritual that can topple our government or destroy the physical fabric of Elvenrude.”

Merik Trevain apparently had nerves of steel. Other than a deepening frown, he showed little reaction. “How certain are you?”

“I’m very certain of Jermon’s ambitions. The rest is based on knowledge—facts—of his current actions.”

“I see. It’s an ugly picture you’ve drawn.” Merik heaved a sigh, shook his head, and met Seth’s gaze. “What do you expect of me?”

“Turn in all of Jermon’s rebel contacts. Tell us what you know and what you suspect. We can’t wait to do this the nice way.”

Merik flexed his shoulders. “I knew this was coming. I promised Rhyden I’d cooperate when the time came, but I thought there’d be another day or two. But if you say we’re out of time, I’ll deal with it. I can’t stop you, and I’m not even sure I should. So, I’ll give you everything I have. In return, I want to be included in bringing them in.”

“Are you able?” Seth gestured to his bandages.

“You bet.” Merik grinned. “If I can’t keep up, I’ll take myself home. But don’t count on that being necessary.”

“Then you’re in.”

When Seth left a few minutes later, he had a paper with four names tucked in his pocket and an address where Merik could always be reached. A grim smile flickered across his lips. Rhyden and Esty had found a good ally.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Have you seen today’s paper?” Seth asked a half-hour later.

Kam made a face at her phone. She didn’t read the paper unless she had to. He knew that. It was always depressing news. “Not yet. Should I?” She filled her coffee mug from the pot across the hall and returned to her desk at the Ryndel corporate headquarters.

Paper rustled on the other end of the line. The financial page was normally the first thing he read upon reaching his office, but he’d been delayed this morning by carrying Murielle’s warning to Elvenrude. Since he was calling her, however, she suspected it wasn’t the economy that had caught his eye.

“Louvre Break-In Baffles Police,” he read. “Jermon may have been in Paris.”

She tapped a few keys and pulled up the online version of the newspaper on her computer.

“Got it. What was taken? More obsidian?” She answered her own question before he could respond. “Minor artifacts. Hmm, that could be anything. I don’t suppose they’d tell me if I called…but they might tell the CIA. I’d thought about talking with Agent Crain anyway, but I’d like your opinion first.”

“On what?”

She heard the change in his voice. Whenever she talked about Crain, he got a little tense. She’d put herself at risk a few too many times for Seth to be entirely comfortable with her CIA work.

“How to protect the portals.” She explained her idea before he jumped to the conclusion she’d be in the line of fire…once again. “I mentioned it to Barrott. He’s thinking over how to make it work, but I admit he wasn’t enthusiastic.”

“I bet not. Guns and human mercenaries, huh? If you can keep them outside so there’s limited risk of them seeing things they shouldn’t, you’ve got my vote. But don’t expect the king or Brunic to approve.”

“Yeah, probably not…if we ask. But this isn’t Elvenrude.” She let the suggestion hang.

“Risky to walk that fine line,” he said. “But my guild master would agree with you. Henre wanted to arm our guards with guns six months ago. Under normal circumstances I’d defer to the king’s scruples, but we can’t risk our people being murdered. Talk with Crain. But don’t promise him something we’ll both regret.”

Kam smothered a half laugh. “I’ve been better about that, haven’t I? He hasn’t played the favor-for-favor game in a while.”

“Try not to get it started again.”

They talked several minutes, discussing the best time to bring in paramilitary reinforcements. The longer the humans were there, the more likely they’d discover the elves’ true identity.

“So we wait until the last minute,” she said. “Even more reason to step up our efforts to identify the obsidian thefts, the rebels’ activities in Elvenrude, and any other signs of Jermon’s progress. I’ll get in touch with Crain this morning. Have you talked with Rhyden yet? He’s back and left here a while ago.”

“Haven’t seen him, but I expect we’ll meet with Merik before noon. I don’t know how long it will take, but you know how to reach me if something comes up here.”

Kam shot a furtive glance toward the conference table as she disconnected. At least her sister was immersed in reading reports and not asking questions. Esty hadn’t been told the Elvenrude search for the rebels was proceeding without her, or that Rhyden would be working with Seth and Merik rather than helping her. She wouldn’t be happy, and Kam and Seth thought it would be easier to present the situation as a done deal. She’d wait another hour before breaking the news.

She punched in the number for Agent Crain. As expected, his message service answered. Since the local terrorist gangs had been busted last summer, his regular CIA duties pulled him away from New Orleans most of the time. Just what those duties were she wasn’t sure. And she didn’t ask. Occasionally she and Seth took on a mission for him, when it took their special skills to complete something vital to US or world security. Usually that meant photographing secret documents or carrying information quietly to places accessible only by being invisible or by using some form of teleportation.

While she waited for his callback, she searched the French websites that might carry the Louvre story in depth. While the articles she found detailed background information on prior thefts at the museum, French authorities weren’t saying much about the incident, except they’d been alerted by a silent alarm. An unnamed source speculated the thieves had been scared off before more valuable items were taken.

Unless priceless paintings and gems weren’t what they came for.

She’d barely finished scanning the third article when Crain returned her call.

“It’s been a while,” a familiar gruff voice said. “How are things in New Orleans?”

“Good at the moment, but I’m not sure it will last.”

His voice became crisp, business-like. “It must be bad for you to call me.”

“Yeah, well, I need to hire a discreet paramilitary group. And for you to provide a cover story to minimize the questions.”

“The hell you say. What’s going on, Kam? I’m not far away. Should I come to New Orleans?”

“Nothing’s critical…yet.” She started with the part that he would relate to. “The rogues we were after last summer survived the explosion at Gormley’s building.”

“So your suspicions were founded. Are they fighting with the local gangs again?”

“No, they’re raiding museums and stealing artifacts around the world.”

“Museums? That doesn’t sound like something that requires the CIA or a paramilitary unit.”

“They’ve also taken control of a Mexican cartel. When they’ve stolen the items they need, we believe the cartel will make an armed assault on our New Orleans’ guilds. Jermon Lormarc intends a takeover of my homeland. As you can imagine, he won’t be a friendly neighbor for humanity.” They’d never actually told him about Elvenrude, but he understood enough. She took a determined breath. This next part might come under the label of too much information, but Crain had to understand the magnitude of the risks involved. “There’s more. What he’s planning could create an inter-dimensional backlash. An explosion—”

“Geez, Kam. Stop right there. This is going to take some explaining. I’ll be on the next flight I can get.”

By the time Kam disconnected, Esty stood in front of her desk. Her eyes were big. “Are you bringing the CIA into Elvenrude?”

“No, of course not.” Kam stood and waved toward the conference table. “Let’s sit down. I have a couple of things we should discuss.”

Esty immediately grabbed her arm. “Has something else bad happened? Is that why Rhyden left? Is he doing something dangerous?”

“Rhyden’s fine. Nobody’s been hurt, but he won’t be back to work with you.”

Esty’s look of alarm turned to suspicion, but she sat quietly and listened without comment while Kam told her about Seth’s meeting with Merik Trevain. She took Rhyden’s change of focus in stride. “I didn’t figure he’d be back. He’s too uncomfortable around me. But I hate being left out. Especially now they have several names.”

“It wasn’t Rhyden’s idea,” Kam said. “Seth asked for his help.”

But Esty was right about Rhyden’s discomfort. From what she’d observed, he was uneasy because he wanted to be with Esty. Unfortunately, he seemed obsessed with her age. At least that was his current excuse. Twenty-three—or nearly twenty-four, as Esty liked to say—was a long way from thirty in elven maturity, and her parents might think twice about the age difference. But there was still a lot of little boy charm in Rhyden. Kam stifled a smile. She thought they were rather well-matched. And the chemistry was unmistakable. Still, she didn’t want to encourage her sister to believe in emotions he was resisting.

“Now, about Agent Crain…”

* * *

Two hours later, Esty stared at the closed office door. Her sister had just left to meet with the CIA agent for a late lunch at the Wharf pub. He’d certainly made good time getting to town from wherever he’d been. Esty had been tempted to ask if she could go. It would be exciting to meet a real spy. But she knew what the answer would be. She was just the little sister.

With a deep sigh, she returned to her notes. She’d spent most of the morning looking over the annual reports on the Lormarc Guild’s past operation. Until recently the New Orleans end of the business and the Elvenrude operation were in the hands of different family members. While Rhyden and Seth handled the Cityside guild and the foreign exports, Jermon Lormarc had controlled the hiring, firing, and processing in Elvenrude until the day he was arrested.

She frowned and picked up one of the annual reports. According to this, the Elvenrude guild master, Dorth Olseon, had originally worked for Jermon, then transferred to New Orleans, where he was dismissed by Seth and Rhyden for poor performance, and later rehired in Elvenrude by Jermon. So there was a long time connection.

She set the report down, propped her elbow on the table, and rested her chin on her hand. Olseon must have been pretty grateful to his old friend for rehiring him. Did his gratitude extend to funneling current information to the fugitives?

She wrinkled her nose in thought. What was Olseon really like? He’d been described as rather a mouse of a man, but surface perceptions could be wrong. She added him to a list of four other names from the Lormarc guild. So far, these were her main suspects. Employees who’d been associates of Jermon. She intended to interview each of them.

But she needed to understand more about the guild business first, and with that in mind, she arranged to spend the rest of the day with Ryndel Guild Master Barrott. She’d known him since childhood, and he was the one man in the guilds she could be positive wasn’t involved with Jermon Lormarc. When she finished her time with him, she’d know enough to ask intelligent questions when she arrived at the Lormarc Guild with her fictitious survey into employee/management relations within the guilds.

Esty grinned. She’d have to remember to tell her family and the Lormarcs about the cover story she was using.

She glanced at the clock. Time to go. When she overheard Kam’s phone conversation with the CIA agent, she understood how fast things were moving forward. They expected something to happen soon, and she wanted her part done before it—whatever the next awful thing turned out to be—crashed down on their heads.

She waved at the receptionist as she sailed out the door…delighted to finally embark on her own mission.

* * *

Kam paused in the doorway of the Wharf pub and scanned the room for her lunch date. The middle-aged CIA operative sat in a back booth. He bit into an olive from his martini and lifted a hand when he saw her. She placed her sandwich order with the bartender before joining him.

“I’m surprised to see you indulge so early in the day,” she said taking the far side of the booth.

“The martini lunch? After what you said on the phone, I figured I needed to fortify myself.” Crain’s typical demeanor was serious, but today his gray eyes were more guarded. “I’ve envisioned all kinds of nightmare scenarios…that I can’t do anything about.”

“I guess that about sums it up.”

His salt-and-pepper brows lowered. “Why didn’t you call me before now?”

“We thought it was a problem just for us, not you. New information suggests that isn’t true.”

He leaned forward, hunching his shoulders. “I already know I’m not going to like this, but let’s hear it. Tell me everything you think you can. Then add at least half of what you think you can’t. I already know enough about you to ruin us both. If the current situation is as bad as you’ve implied, my government needs to make preparations, take steps to head off a disaster.”

She studied him, almost sorry she’d called. The secret knowledge he had of her race was a burden to him. He understood enough to realize his best defensive measures, most modern weapons, were relatively ineffective against magic. It didn’t stop him from trying.

“OK. Here’s the nutshell version. The fugitives from last summer are collecting obsidian from around the world to make…a bomb. A very unstable bomb. We aren’t sure how they intend to use it—whether to hold our world hostage or simply take revenge and blow it up. Before they can do either, they’ll attempt to take over our guilds by using Mexican desperados with high-powered weapons.”

“My God, you were serious. Five of your kind have actually taken control of an entire cartel in less than five months?”

“I thought you had intel on everything happening in the world,” she said dryly.

“We’d heard there was new leadership. No one suggested it was someone like you.”

“Well, duh. How could they? No one else knows about us.” She cut off her irritation. “Sorry, that was rude. But you’re wrong anyway. They aren’t like me. They’re vicious rogues with a criminal agenda.”

“Point taken.” A simple acknowledgement, no wasted discussion. “Now what about this dimensional stuff you mentioned on the phone?”

“That’s the worst case scenario. My homeland is kind of linked to yours. If it blows up, it might take the earth too.”

He stared at her as if he couldn’t comprehend what she’d just said. “My God, Kam. I don’t believe we’re having this conversation. Are you suggesting the earth could be totally destroyed by this madman?” He ran his hand through his hair, making parts of it stand on end. “We’ll simply hunt him down and kill him.”

“Except he isn’t really a man, not a human man,” she reminded him. “You can’t even see him if he doesn’t want you to.”

They argued for the next ten minutes about contacting Homeland Security, DHS, and the Pentagon, not to mention the FBI and his superiors at the CIA. She and Crain both knew none of that would work, but she understood his desperate need to do something.

“What I need is the help I asked for,” she said, when he finally cooled down. “In the end, Seth and I…and our friends…will have to deal with the fugitives.”

He made a guttural sound of disgust and leaned back. “Tell me what you want. The mercenaries are to protect the guilds?”

Kam nodded but waited while her lunch order was delivered before continuing. “If we can stop them at the guilds, we’ll prevent the rest or delay it until we can track down Jermon Lormarc.”

“Wait a minute. Won’t they just set this bomb off here in New Orleans?”

“No. They can’t.”

“Why not?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re asking too many questions. Just trust me. It can’t happen. Part of what would make it ignite, isn’t here.” He frowned at her, but Kam couldn’t begin to explain the Heart of Iska or the anti-magic. Instead, she went on. “As I was about to say, I’m not sure how to find the skilled fighters I need, and before I make contact, I want a cover story to avoid a lot of awkward questions.”

“If you hire the right people, you won’t need a cover story. They won’t ask questions. Let me find them. I’ll put a half dozen on each guild.”

She paused with a sweet potato fry halfway to her mouth. “Is that enough?”

“It will be with these teams. They’re ex-military, Special Forces…and can take down a small army.”

“They might have to.”

His face clouded. “Let’s hope not. We don’t need World War III in the heart of New Orleans. Maybe we can stop the cartel at the border. We’ll give it a shot.” He pushed his drink away, waved at the waitress, and ordered a sandwich and black coffee. “It sounds like there’s work to be done. In that case, I need food and a clear head.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Dammit. That didn’t go well at all,” Seth muttered. He stood outside the palace gate after a failed attempt to join forces with Brunic to bring in the duchaen rebels. He’d finally given the names of the four dissidents to the captain, even though Brunic had made it clear his guards would not be working with “a bunch of deceitful incompetents who’d already managed to get four people killed.”

Harsh words. There was no question Rhyden had gotten on Brunic’s bad side. But how much of that was a remnant of the old Ryndel/Lormarc feud? As for his disrespect toward Merik Trevain, more out-dated thinking. Brunic was an admirable man, especially in his leadership of the Guard, but his biases ran deep. Seth hunched his shoulders against a cold gust of wind and stuck his hands in his pockets. Clearly Brunic’s friendly feelings toward any of the Lormarc family had been tested by recent events. Yet another bad result of Uncle Jermon’s handiwork. He’d lost count of the black marks on his relative’s karma.

While Brunic’s attitude was a setback, it didn’t change their plans. Rhyden and Merik were already searching for Jermon’s supporters. They’d known the captain’s rejection was a possibility, and in fact, they might have better luck working on their own without Brunic’s heavy hand curtailing their efforts.

Seth made up his mind and took the street toward his grandfather’s house. In case their actions caused repercussions from the king, Harad Lormarc, as head of the clan, had a right to know about the brewing political storm. Seth was suddenly curious about his grandfather’s reaction. He couldn’t remember hearing the old man’s views on crossbreeds or their duchaen cause. Was Harad as prejudiced as some of the older ones? Seth arrived at the entrance to his grandfather’s tree house residence anchored by the branches of four large oaks and lifted the knocker. He’d soon know.

Beesom answered. The family retainer was nearly as old as Harad, but he’d looked the same for as long as Seth could remember. Tall, thin, ramrod straight. He rarely smiled, but he had a kindly eye and had viewed Seth’s and Rhyden’s boyish escapades with a detached tolerance. He’d even covered for them a time or two…or three.

“How is he today?” Seth asked. Harad had turned one hundred eighty a few weeks ago. Not a remarkable age yet, but pushing the upper limits.

“Much as usual, sir. He’s in the study.”

Seth knocked on the oak door and pushed it open when a strong voice invited him in. His white-haired grandfather looked up from a chessboard he’d been studying. “Seth, come in, my boy. See what my days have come to? Playing chess with myself.” Harad gave a broad smile, his green eyes twinkling. “Of course, I always win that way.”

Seth glanced at the board. “Black looks to be in trouble.”

Harad’s chuckle was deep. “Yes, I favor the white king. What brings you to Elvenrude?” He pushed the chess table away and settled back in his chair.

Seth took a seat opposite him, but before he said anything, Beesom entered with a tray of tea and scones. The retainer removed the chessboard to a larger table and positioned the tea tray between the two men. “I thought you would enjoy refreshments,” he said.

“Thank you. Did you bring honey?”

“I did, sir. Right here.”

Beesom moved the honey pot to the front of the tray and departed. Seth fixed their tea, handed Harad a cup and a small plate with two scones, then got to the point of his visit.

“Rhyden and I have gotten crossways with Captain Brunic. And I expect it to only get worse,” Seth said bluntly.

“Does it have something to do with this duchaen rebellion? I heard Rhyden was hanging around with Merik Trevain.”

Seth’s lips twitched. He should have known. Harad kept his ears open to village gossip. “You’ll probably hear I’ve met with him also. It’s not so much what we’ve done that may cause you trouble, especially from the king, but what we’re going to do. Or at least Rhyden.”

Harad waved an impatient hand. “Quit talking riddles and just tell me.”

“It’s a complicated story,” Seth warned. “So much has happened in the last week or two. But it all comes back to Jermon.” He set down his tea and filled Harad in on recent events. Some of it his grandfather already knew, but Seth tried to fit the pieces together into a cohesive story. “While Kam and I hunt for Jermon, and Esty Ryndel searches for a paper trail to identify our leak, Rhyden will be active here in Elvenrude. Regardless of Brunic’s or Seliwyn’s disapproval—and he’s been warned off twice by Brunic—Rhyden will be working with Merik Trevain to capture or disband the splinter group. I’ll help them when I can, but catching Jermon is my first priority.”

“Why can’t you leave the locals to Brunic?”

“Seriously, Grandfather? Do you think they’re going to talk or even listen to him? Merik Trevain is the key. Rhyden and I are just backup. But we’re prepared to take steps Brunic can’t. We’ll kidnap Kurzi Everins and stash him somewhere if we have to.”

“Everins?” Harad’s voice sharpened. “I heard Brunic wanted to question him. You think he’s involved in this?”

“I know he is, but we can’t prove it to Brunic’s satisfaction. Everins started the fire that killed four people…and could have killed Rhyden and Esty.”

“A father’s sins,” Harad mumbled, then he changed course. “Rhyden shouldn’t have had the girl there.”

“Of course not, but that isn’t the point, is it?”

“Another Ryndel woman. What’s gotten into you two?”

“We’ve been struck by good taste.” Seth cocked his head and refused to be distracted. “I’m convinced Everins has killed once and tried a second time when he stabbed Trevain. Why are you steering the conversation away from him?”

Harad dropped his gaze and made a production of stirring honey into his tea. “Because I don’t want to talk about Kurzi.” He set the spoon down with a sharp click. “Allow an old man his regrets, Seth.”

“What regrets?” Seth’s eyes widened, as one possible explanation occurred to him. “What are you saying?”

“Not what you think. He isn’t mine.” Harad exhaled heavily. “He’s Jermon’s.”

Silence. Seth gaped at his grandfather. As the words sunk in, he shook his head. “I had no idea.”

“No one did, except me, Jermon, and the commoner—his cousin—I paid to take him in.”

“You paid? Not Jermon?”

“You seem surprised,” Harad said dryly. “When has Jermon ever done the right thing?”

“I know, but a child…”

“He wanted nothing to do with him. The young girl—barely more than a child herself—came to me when he wouldn’t help her. I tried to make him see his duty, but he laughed, and I won’t repeat what he called her or the child. I provided for her, but the poor girl died in childbirth. I don’t think Jermon even knows who Kurzi is. He never asked.”

“Does Kurzi know? Have you met him, talked to him?”

“No. Perhaps I should have taken him in despite Jermon’s objections. It might have changed his path.” Harad’s naturally ruddy features had grown gray, as if he’d aged twenty years in revealing the truth.

“I deplore how he’s been treated, but others have suffered similar abandonment without becoming killers,” Seth said. “There’s such a thing as bad genes.”

“Perhaps. I’ll never be sure.” His grandfather looked up. “What happens now?”

“We still have to stop him.” Seth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter who he is.”

That wasn’t really true. As Seth walked slowly toward the guild and the portal to New Orleans, he thought about Kurzi, the heritage they shared—or should have shared—and the what ifs. The man was a little older—mid-thirties, maybe—but the same decade as he and Rhyden. What if they’d all been raised together? Would it be different now?

Seth was pretty sure it would have changed his own life, at least his perceptions if he’d been forced to consider the fate of crossbreeds from an early age. His family might have taken steps to right the inequities. The rebellion wouldn’t have been necessary; Kurzi might not have killed anyone.

Whoa. Seth pulled his thoughts up short. Don’t go there. As his grandfather said, they’d never know. Without the rebellion, it might have been something else. The barn fire had been a cold, heartless act against other duchaen, not Elite elves he might have a reason to resent. His behavior was more aligned with Jermon than other Lormarcs. But Seth felt a twinge of regret…even doubt. Knowing he shared a bloodline with Kurzi made it harder to think objectively.

He frowned, debating whether to tell Rhyden. Was this a secret best kept hidden? But hadn’t there already been too much secrecy? Rhyden had a right to know. And Kam. Maybe he’d even tell Kurzi someday. After all, didn’t everyone deserve to know their roots—good and bad?

* * *

After voting Seth as the best choice to talk with Brunic, Rhyden and Merik set out to track down the four names on their list. Actually three. They didn’t expect to find Kurzi Everins. Except for the knife attack—and Merik hadn’t gotten a good enough look to positively identify him as his hooded attacker—Everins had laid low since the night of the fire.

Although they doubted the three rebels would tell them much, they hoped to rattle a few cages and let Everins know he hadn’t succeeded in eliminating Merik or stopping their investigation. That Brunic would be questioning the same people was a given, but Brunic was an outsider, and he’d start out hostile, alienating them before he opened his mouth. When they refused to talk, there’d be nothing the captain could legally do except turn them loose. Rhyden and Merik weren’t bound by any rules except their conscience.

The first name on their list was mending a stone fence on a farm just outside of town. He ran when he saw them, but Rhyden chased him down on horseback and leaped off, dragging the man to the ground. Merik dismounted and sat on their captive while Rhyden dusted himself off and grinned. He was pretty proud of his capture.

“Now, Barnebe.” Merik waited for the man to stop struggling. “Why don’t you tell me why you got involved with someone like Kurzi Everins? You know he’s nothing but trouble.”

Since Merik seemed to know what he was doing, Rhyden stood with one hand resting on his horse’s neck and listened.

“Aw, you know how much I hate getting half the allotment of the commoners. Kurzi promised we’d do something about that. Something besides talk.”

“Like what? Murder?”

“Naw, nothin’ like that. Can’t you let me up now?” The twenty-something crossbreed swiveled his head to frown over his shoulder at Merik. His eyes flicked to Rhyden then back.

“Not until I talk some sense into you. What you’re doing has only made things worse for the duchaen. Everins may be charged with murder soon. Anyone hanging around him could get caught up in that.”

“Murder? What did he do?”

“Set that barn on fire. Killed four of our own.”

“That wasn’t Kurzi. It was an accident. A horse kicked over a lantern.”

“The barn wasn’t being used,” Merik said patiently. “No horses. And Kurzi was seen outside just before our meeting started. You’re a smart man, and you know Kurzi. What do you think happened?”

“Hades, Merik, I didn’t know. You sure about that?”

“He ambushed and stabbed me, right in my own home.”

The farmhand swore. “Never knew that either. You saying he’s fooling us? Why?”

“I think he’s working for Jermon Lormarc.”

The man swore again, louder this time. There was an equal mixture of fear and rage in his voice. “I want no part of Lormarc. He’s a mean one.”

Merik finally stood, allowing the crossbreed to get on his feet. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from Everins. And be a good friend to your buddies. Warn them what they’ve gotten into.”

The farmhand’s neck reddened, and he wouldn’t meet Merik’s gaze. “I guess I been a fool. I’ll pass the word,” he said after a moment. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“Will I see you at our next meeting?”

The man finally looked at him. “I’ll be there…with my friends. Uh, I guess I should thank you for finding me before the law does.”

“That’s why the duchaen should stick together. See you soon.”

Merik and Rhyden swung onto their horses and rode away. The farmhand leaned on the fence and watched them go.

“You think he means it?” Rhyden asked doubtfully. “That was a pretty quick change of heart.”

“Oh, he means it. Barnebe’s not a bad guy, but he’s a bit slow and easily led. As long as he doesn’t get around Kurzi again, he’ll be fine. He was the easy one on our list. I don’t think the others will be as friendly.”

He was right.

They found the second man in Keiley’s Pub. The barkeep and several patrons raised an eyebrow at Rhyden, but Merik nodded and said, “He’s with me.”

Rhyden nearly choked at the exchange and turned his snicker into a cough, but he was impressed with Merik Trevain’s standing among the workers of the village.

Their suspect was easy to spot, drinking ale at a table by himself. They sat down on either side of him, and he blinked baleful eyes at them. Clearly he’d had several pints prior to their arrival and was in a belligerent mood.

“This is my table. Take yourselves somewhere else.” He suddenly squinted at Rhyden and recoiled with a wary look. “What’s he doing in here?”

Merik ignored the question. “We’d like to talk with you.”

“Forget it. Got nothing to say. Be sure to take him with you as you leave.” The intoxicated crossbreed was in no shape to listen, even if he’d been willing. He swayed toward Merik. “I know what you want. But me and Kurzi have a deal. We’re buddies.”

“What kind of deal?”

“We’re gonna be rich…” He broke off. “Ha, thought you’d catch me, didn’t you? Get away from me.”

Merik stood. “Tell your buddy I was here, and I’m looking for him. If you change your mind, find me. We’ll talk.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” The man started laughing, a drunken sound, too loud, too artificial.

“He’s an ass,” Merik said, once they were outside. “He’ll stick with Everins, no matter what, but I hope he’s sober enough to deliver my message. I want Kurzi to know I’m coming after him.”

According to his wife, the third suspect left his village home fifteen minutes before Rhyden and Merik arrived, following receipt of an urgent message from a friend. He hadn’t said where he was going or when he’d return.

Rhyden and Merik grinned at one another. Someone was spreading the word. Whether it was Barnebe or the drunk or someone else didn’t matter. The word was out. With Barnebe repeating Merik’s accusations regarding the fire and the ambush, some of the rebels should realize they were in deeper trouble than they wanted to be. The truth might go a long way toward isolating the hardcore group.

Rhyden glanced at Merik’s determined face as they walked back to the hitching post where they’d left the horses. One out of three wasn’t particularly good odds, but it was a beginning that could have a wide-reaching effect. They’d done good work today. Everins’s days of controlling things were limited.

* * *

Seth checked his phone one last time. Nearly midnight. Why hadn’t Rhyden called? He wanted to tell him about their connection to Kurzi Everins—get it over with. He’d left two messages already.

Telling Kam had been easy. She took the revelation without much reaction except increased disgust with Jermon. But then it wasn’t her family involved. Rhyden wasn’t likely to be so nonchalant.

Seth raked his unruly hair off his forehead. He couldn’t quit thinking about the people who died in the fire—murdered by Kurzi. Even if Elvenrude society ignored the connection, Kurzi was kin. By the gods, how Seth hated to admit that.

The phone rang, and he caught it on the first ring.

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” Rhyden said. “I just got back from Elvenrude. Merik and I had a busy day.” He described their attempts to interview the rebels. “There was no sign of Everins. What did Brunic have to say?”

Seth told him briefly how badly that had gone, then paused. “Afterward I stopped to warn Grandfather of our activities. I didn’t want Seliwyn ringing a peal over his head before Harad heard our side of it.”

“Very wise of you, cuz. Always thinking.”

“Yeah, well, I heard something I didn’t expect…about Everins and Jermon.”

“You’re kidding me? Harad already knew they were working together and didn’t tell anyone?”

“No, it’s worse than that. He knew they were father and son.”

After a moment of shocked silence, Rhyden released a string of expletives that included words Seth hadn’t heard in quite a while.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After spending the day with Barrott and getting her father’s and Seth’s agreement to her employee relations’ survey, Esty moved home early the next morning. Her parents welcomed her with hugs, and her absence was treated as a simple vacation in New Orleans. It was good to settle into her old bedroom, although it didn’t feel quite the same. Something had changed. Probably her.

She picked up the doll that had sat on her bed for as long as she could remember. She smoothed its dark hair with her fingers, then stood on a chair and set it on a high shelf. Some day her child or Kam’s would enjoy it again.

Opening her bag of new clothes, she put them away and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a fluffy pink sweater. She’d had a reason for returning on this particular day. She’d learned all she needed from Barrott, and it was logical to finish her alleged survey with information from the other guild and the other end of the portals.

That’s how she explained her presence to Guild Master Dorth Olseon when she arrived at his Elvenrude guild office just before noon. “It will give me a complete picture,” she concluded.

Olseon pursed his lips but offered her a seat. “I’m sorry if I seem surprised, but no one mentioned your study to me. You’ll find I have a good rapport with all our workers.”

“I’m sure you do.” Esty gave him a reassuring smile. The late-thirties manager remained standing, his slender frame somewhat rigid. “But you’re only one part of my report. It includes supervisors, crew chiefs, anyone in a position of authority. I’m also gathering suggestions on how the owners can better support you in your position.”

He seemed to unbend a little. No doubt he’d have a ton of suggestions for or complaints about Rhyden and Seth…since they’d fired him.

“I’ll help in any way I can. Where would you like to begin?”

“With you, if I may.” She pulled out a notepad and pen.

“I have only a few minutes. But if this is what the Lormarcs want, we can get started.” He sat behind his desk, his shoulders squared as if he had a rod in his spine.

She smiled encouragingly. “You’ve had a long career in the trade business. How much of it has been in supervisory positions?”

If Olseon had other pressing business, it seemed to slip his mind. He spent more than an hour answering her questions. Most people enjoyed talking about themselves, and she gave him plenty of opportunity to do so. He spoke knowledgeably about the business, and while he did have a few suggestions for the owners, he refrained from speaking harshly of Rhyden and Seth. He described his transfer back to Elvenrude as a difference in management style.

Esty might have been impressed except for his underlying admiration for Jermon. While he didn’t actually claim his prior employer had been falsely accused, he implied it. Still, she couldn’t fault him for loyalty…unless he’d carried it too far and was part of the current conspiracy.

She probed a little deeper. “Jermon Lormarc ran this guild house for many years and made most of its business decisions. It must be difficult not having him available to answer questions about past procedures. Have you had any contact with him?”

Olseon immediately stiffened. “Certainly not. What are you suggesting?”

“I meant while he was still in Elvenrude.”

“He was not allowed visitors.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. What a pity. A sad story. I wonder if he died in the New Orleans’ fire like they say.” She kept her eyes down, as if she were making meaningless chatter.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said curtly.

Oops. She’d put his back up.

She put her notepad away and stood. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you. I know I’ve kept you from your work too long. May I come back if I have more questions?”

“I’m at your disposal.” He stood, an obligatory smile appearing now the session was over. “Who else would you like to see?”

“I’ll just wander around. Maybe catch someone on break. I don’t want to interrupt the routine.”

His smile slipped a little. “I need to schedule meetings with supervisory staff. Someone will be required to cover their duties while they meet with you.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll give you tomorrow’s list by the end of the day,” she said sweetly. “Thank you again for your time.” Esty escaped the room before his dismayed expression at the idea of tomorrow’s list made her laugh. He’d clearly hoped her visit would be brief.

Olseon wasn’t a particularly likable man, but she hadn’t seen or heard anything that made her suspect him of anything more than a slavish adherence to routine. He was an enforcer of rules. His basic nature actually made him a poor candidate as the conduit to Jermon—which involved breaking a lot of rules.

She spent the afternoon observing the operation and looking over information on the night crews. She’d identified four individuals, three men, one woman, in positions that might result in unobserved portal access. Two of those people were already on her suspect list, and she moved them to the top: Sherlee, the assembly line supervisor, and Niku, the transport chief. Neither had been friendly, but that alone wouldn’t have been significant if not for the other factors of access and background.

By the time she finished adding and crossing off names, she had fourteen left, including her top four suspects, four supervisors she didn’t suspect at all, and six line workers chosen at random to support her cover story. And maybe even give Seth and Rhyden management information to consider.

On her way out, she stopped at Olseon’s office and handed him the list of names. “I’d like to meet with the eight supervisors first—one at a time—and leave the workers for the following day.” She waited for his reaction to her two-day schedule, but he disappointed her.

“What time would you like to begin?” he asked woodenly.

“I’ll be here at nine. I hope you’ll have the tea on. I’ll bring a loaf of my mother’s homemade bread to share.” She gave him a last bright smile and left.

* * *

Rhyden’s schedule was tight with business meetings in New Orleans all day. Consequently, he’d arranged to meet Merik that evening to plan their next step. But he was too edgy to concentrate on trade contracts, and he cancelled the last two appointments. As happened too often recently, Esty was one of the things on his mind.

She’d moved home to Elvenrude, and her plan to interview guild workers under the guise of a survey seemed innocent enough, but he didn’t trust her to stay away from the rebels. Or for them to stay away from her. Ellyn was also back in the village. Who knew what those two would get into? And what about the unidentified men who’d waited outside Murielle’s? Would they bother Esty again now she was back in Elvenrude?

It was impossible to focus on business. Someone needed to keep an eye on her.

By four o’clock he was waiting in the woods outside the Lormarc Guild in Elvenrude when she left for the day. She looked cute in her winter cape and black hand muff.

He snorted in disgust. He shouldn’t be there. But he followed her home anyway until she was safely inside.

* * *

As Esty hurried toward the guild the next morning, she kept a close watch for Rhyden. He’d be wise not to take up surveillance for a living. She’d spotted him yesterday watching from the trees. And she lay awake late into the night, wondering why.

She’d been flattered at first, but further assessment led to the irritating belief he was checking up on her. As if she couldn’t take care of herself.

Esty set her chin, more determined than ever to prove him wrong. She opened the Lormarc guild’s front door and looked up to see one of her suspects, Sherlee, talking with Olseon on the upper balcony. The woman appeared upset. What was important enough that a low-level supervisor would consult directly with the guild manager?

She started toward the stairs. As soon as the pair noticed her, they broke off their conversation, and the woman hurried away. Curious.

“Wasn’t that Sherlee?” she asked when she reached the top of the stairs.

“Yes. She’s worried about the work she’ll be missing this morning.”

Uh-huh. And she brought her concern to the head man rather than her shift supervisor?

“Very conscientious of her. I’ll try not to keep her long.”

Olseon escorted Esty to a supply room on the first floor they’d converted for her use. Boxes and crates had been replaced with two tables and a half-dozen wooden chairs.

“Thank you. This will do nicely.”

“I hope activity outside your door won’t be distracting, but I placed you next to the front entrance to limit workplace disruptions caused by your inquiry.” Olseon’s words relayed a civil but not very subtle disapproval. He left without waiting for her reaction.

Sherlee waited at the round table in the center of the room. A second table held a teapot, cups, and small plates. Esty produced a loaf of gooseberry bread, placed a few slices on a plate, poured two cups of tea, and set them on the interview table. Then she took her time getting settled and arranging her files. All the while she surreptitiously studied the other woman.

The mid-forties supervisor was nervous. She clasped her hands in her lap, and her eyes followed Esty’s movements. Sherlee had made an effort to present a business-like appearance. Instead of yesterday’s long blonde curls, her hair was pulled into a tight bun and the faded jeans replaced with a tailored, blue top and skirt.

Esty introduced herself and cocked her head. “Why did you bypass your regular supervisor this morning?”

“Wha-at?” Sherlee stammered. “I don’t understand.”

“I saw you talking with Guild Master Olseon, and he said it was a work issue. Isn’t that unusual to go to the head manager? I only ask because I’m surveying employer/employee relationships. Is there a problem with your shift supervisor?”

“Um, no. He was busy.”

That was a bit lame. “You must find Olseon very approachable.”

“Yes, he’s very good.” Sherlee had composed her expression but kept her eyes averted. Simple nervousness? Office politics? An affair? Something more sinister?

Esty had a list of ten standard questions; only three were important: Who hired you? Have you or would you work with duchaen employees or supervisors? What suggestions do you have for present management?

The answers weren’t really as important as how people reacted. All of them had been hired by Jermon. She wanted to see their faces when they talked about him. On the other two questions, they’d tell her whatever they thought she wanted to hear. But again, she was hoping for reactions, not necessarily the truth.

Sherlee handled two out of three without blinking an eye but stumbled over the duchaen question. “I haven’t worked with any of…” She seemed to search for the right word. “…them. But whoever was assigned would be OK with me.”

Esty wasn’t sure what to make of it. Them? The woman was one of “them.” The blue tinge in the supervisor’s light brown eyes indicated there was an Elite Ryndel connection somewhere in her background, at least a generation or two ago. Esty stifled a sigh. Someone in her extended bloodline had abandoned a child. Maybe she’d projected her own discomfort onto Sherlee. She added a question mark beside the woman’s name and moved on.

Her other top suspect walked in just before the lunch break. Niku was a tall commoner, with broad shoulders and long blond hair. Women probably admired his handsome features as long as he kept the brief sneer hidden.

“You wanted to see me? What’s this about? I haven’t much time.”

On the offensive, huh?

“Have a seat, please.” She deliberately kept him waiting while she picked up her papers and pretended to read them. After two minutes passed, he shifted in his chair. She counted off another forty-five seconds in her head, then looked up.

“Are we ready?” She introduced herself and went through the list of questions, saving the important three until last.

He stumbled over the first two, giving short, vague answers, and frequently looking at the door.

Esty finally frowned at him. “Am I keeping you from something?”

He leaned back and patted his stomach. “Just thinking about lunch. We only get a short break.”

So close to insolence. And why?

She gave him a direct look. “Then let’s make this the final question. Lormarc has added a few duchaen workers since summer. Has that been a problem?”

“Not for me.”

“Are you implying it has been for others?”

“Hey.” He lifted his hands as if pushing her away. “I didn’t say that. Even if it was true, I wouldn’t be naming names. I got no problem. Let’s leave it at that.”

Esty stood and walked to the door. She held it open and looked back at him. “That’s all for today. If we need to talk again, I’ll let you know.”

Hopefully not. She didn’t care for his slimy grin. On the other hand, he hadn’t said anything to move him up or down on the suspect list. His discomfort was obvious. He didn’t like being questioned…or he didn’t like her…or he resented the aristocracy. None of those meant he was the link to Jermon. But he could be.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Seth set down the phone and chuckled. New Orleans’ Guild Master Henre was entirely too delighted that Esty’s efforts in Elvenrude were annoying Dorth Olseon. Henre had dutifully passed on Olseon’s complaint regarding lost worker time, but Seth heard the amusement in his voice. The two Lormarc managers worked efficiently together, but no one watching their stiff interaction would suggest they were friends.

He stood and crossed to the coffee pot, refilling his mug. At a sharp rap on the door, he turned to see Prince Trystan. The Cyrilian monarch seemed harried.

“Coffee? You look like you could use it.”

Trystan made a face. “No thank you. Too bitter. But I’d welcome tea.”

Seth relayed the request to his secretary and motioned the prince to a seat. “What brings you to New Orleans so early?”

“I’ve studied the report of your world’s creation in the Chruthud Elvenrude, and read early accounts of Cyrilian history. I’ve concluded the formation process was nearly identical, and…I don’t believe our original obsidian was destroyed. It was taken away and lost or hidden.”

“So it might still be out there?” Seth leaned forward. “What makes you think so?”

“A lot of small things, but three main facts in particular…and assumptions about them. I discovered Cyrilia’s first palace was the center of the earthquake that destroyed it, making it possible, even probable, the vault holding the obsidian was broken open. I also learned our founding king did not perish in the quake but was murdered during the chaos and unrest afterward. I think he died defending the vault’s contents, and his murderers stole our version of the Heart of Ishka. And lastly, since the stone’s magic is not sustaining Cyrilia, it must have been carried through the portal to earth. Which means it’s still here…somewhere.”

“Couldn’t it simply have been destroyed in the quake?”

“I don’t think so.” Trystan’s face lit with conviction. “It’s mentioned in the days immediately afterward. Two references to Cyrilia’s core. What else could it be?”

“That complicates things,” Seth said, straightening. “Jermon doesn’t need to gather multiple pieces of obsidian of the right age and weight. He only needs to find the missing stone.” He stood and paced to the window. “Whether Jermon knows this or not, he’ll recognize the stone’s power if he finds it. It must radiate huge levels of magic.”

“Although it’s somehow been shielded,” Trystan cautioned. “If not, we’d all know where it was.”

“True, but no shield is perfect. We’ll feel the hidden power if we touch it.” Seth picked up his phone. “Let’s fill Kam in so she can alert our spotters and scouts to concentrate on larger pieces of obsidian, then we’ll seek an audience with King Seliwyn. He’s the only person who’s seen our source and can describe what we’re looking for.”

In less than an hour Trystan repeated his theory in King Seliwyn’s private audience chambers. Seliwyn listened without comment until the prince finished. “You bring greater hope for Cyrilia’s recovery, and yet the danger increases. Jermon only needs to make one lucky find.” He shook his head. “Your missing artifact may look much like our own. One of the sacred books refers to the Heart of Ishka as ‘two of one.’ Ours is a black statue carved in the shape of a young boy’s head with hair resembling twisted twigs.”

He pinched his chin for a moment, then continued. “Let’s pray we find it first. The mystics finally confirmed what Murielle told you.” He gave a disgusted grumble in his throat. “They claim the possibility of Jermon obtaining the correct obsidian to create anti-magic is so remote they did not want to alarm anyone by mentioning it. But your theory makes the possibility far from remote.”

“As you said, it depends on who finds it first,” Seth said. “The description will help. We’ll get it out to our people as quickly as possible.”

“God speed.” The king appeared older, more discouraged than Seth had seen before. “I’ll start planning for our evacuation. If Jermon gains control of our guild portals, I’ll open the remaining portals so as many people as possible can escape to earth. I know.” He lifted a hand to stave off objections. “The earth may be taken too, but in case it isn’t…”

“Evacuation? Father, Trystan. What is happening?” The king’s twenty-two-year-old daughter Theanne stood in a side doorway. She hurried toward them, fright filling her silver-gray eyes and marring her delicate features with lines of concern. “Please, somebody tell me.”

“Annie, my dearest.” The king folded his only child in his arms and looked over her head at Trystan, shaking his head. “It is only a precaution. You must not upset yourself.”

She twisted her head and appealed to Trystan. “Tell me.”

“Trystan.” The king’s voice held a warning.

The prince frowned and cast Seliwyn an unreadable look. “There’s been a bit of trouble, but nothing we can’t handle.”

Theanne pulled out of her father’s arms and came to stand in front of Trystan. “It’s not like you to lie to me,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a long story, but the rogues elves are looking for a powerful artifact. It could pose a danger to Elvenrude.”

She glanced at her father and returned to Trystan. “It must be very serious if you’re talking evacuation. What exactly is this danger?”

Trystan sighed. “The possibility of a worldwide explosion.”

Her eyes widened, but to her credit, she didn’t cry out. “Then you have to stop them.”

A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “We’re trying. It’s not that easy.”

While Seliwyn and Trystan continued to talk with the princess, Seth slipped quietly from the room and returned to New Orleans.

He found Kam studying the desk computer’s screen with her head cocked to one side. His lips curved. Just seeing her lifted his spirits. He cleared his throat, and she glanced up.

“What did the king say? Did he tell you what it looks like? I’ve found a couple of pieces to consider.”

Seth relayed the conversation about the Heart of Ishka. “Of course, we don’t know that’s what the Cyrilian piece looks like, but ‘two of one’ is suggestive.”

“So another statue.” She turned back to the computer screen. “That eliminates one of these, but there is a possible match or something just as dangerous in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. It’s posted on their social media sites, so Jermon will have picked up on it too by now.”

She brought up the web page. It was a photo of a table of artifacts and an article on the new Grand Egyptian Museum not yet open. “They’re starting to catalogue artifacts from the basement storage for eventual transfer to the new facility in Giza. These items were just found in a crate.” She clicked on the photo. “Look at the statue on the back row. The photo caption identifies it as obsidian.”

Seth scrutinized the object on the screen. “It’s definitely a head of some kind and looks about the right size.” He jerked his head up and stared at her. “By the gods, Kam. This could be the missing piece. Even if it’s not, it’s large enough to attract Jermon and Dreysel. But why have they ignored the Cairo museum this long?”

“They haven’t.” She picked up one of her lists. “Several obsidian tools on display were taken two months ago. But this artifact,” she pointed at the screen, “was still in storage. I’ve heard the basement in the old museum contains so many boxes and stacks of relics no one knows what’s there.”

“When was the photo posted?”

“A few hours ago. I have obsidian set as a web search alert.”

“Unless he’s already in the region, Jermon will have to book a flight to get there. That should give us a few extra hours.” Seth checked the time on the computer screen. Nearly one o’clock. “What time is it in Cairo?”

She clicked on the keyboard. “Seven fifty-four in the evening.” She returned to the museum page. “The exhibits closed to the public an hour ago.”

“We should hurry. Night would be the best time to search.”

“I have a spotter in Cairo. I’ll send him to watch the building until we arrive.” Kam stood. “Maybe this time we can be waiting for Jermon’s renegades instead of one step behind.”

* * *

After eating an apple and some of her mother’s bread for lunch, Esty squirmed in her seat, resigned to a long afternoon of useless interviews in order to maintain her cover. She didn’t anticipate learning much from the other guild supervisors, but maybe they’d surprise her.

When the door abruptly opened, she expected to see the acquisitions supervisor, her next scheduled interviewee.

But Rhyden strode in, his face set in grim lines. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her out of her chair. “We’re leaving. Now.”

She hung back. “What’s the matter with you? Are you angry?”

“No, but don’t argue with me. I’m taking you home, if I have to carry you.” He lowered his voice to a tense whisper. “Someone’s taken Murielle.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. Resisting an urge to ask for details, she grabbed her notebooks. He tugged her toward the door.

“Shouldn’t we tell someone I won’t be doing the interviews today?”

“I already did.”

They didn’t talk again until they were outside. A brisk wind forced her to pay attention to fastening her cloak before demanding the details. “Was she hurt? Who did this?”

“We don’t know exactly what happened. Merik and I rode out to once again urge her to come to town, but we were too late. She wasn’t there, and her cottage had been ransacked. It looked as if many of her magical items and ingredients had been taken from the pantry. I’m sure Kurzi’s rebels have her.”

“But why? She isn’t going to help them by making anti-magic.”

“I’m sure they’ll try to force her.”

Oh, Sweet Mother Earth! Force her how? Threats? Torture? Esty clenched her fist. Besides the horrible danger to Murielle, the peril to Elvenrude was mind-boggling. “What can we do? Who’s looking for her?”

“Merik’s gone to tell Brunic. I’ll join the search as soon as I know you’re safe.”

“Safe where?” She stopped and faced him. “I want to go with you.”

“You’d only slow us down.”

“I wouldn’t. I promise.”

“Yes, you would. Oh, hell, Esty.” He reached out and drew her against his chest. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t take you. I’d be worried about you, instead of stopping the rebels and rescuing Murielle.”

Esty closed her eyes and breathed in the warmth, the masculine scent of him. Put like that, what could she say?

The moment was over quickly. He took her hand and strode toward the swinging walkway. “I’ve sent a message to your father. I suspect he’ll be home by the time we get there.”

Sawyer Ryndel was indeed waiting, and Rhyden was out the door two minutes later. Esty stood with the door open a crack and watched him run along the suspended walkway. When he reached the end and disappeared, she shut the door and leaned against it. She didn’t like being left out or deposited with her father. For a few seconds she’d thought Rhyden might kiss her, that he finally saw her as a woman, not a child. Why did he have to be so confusing?

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. None of that mattered right now. The only important thing was getting Murielle back…and stopping Jermon.

* * *

Rhyden had shocked himself. Oh, not the embrace. He’d had plenty of women in his arms. But the accompanying rush of emotion…and the really poor timing. He’d let his heart get involved again, after spending nearly two months shaking off her spell. When this was over…well, he’d worry about it then.

He’d agreed to meet Merik in half an hour, and time was running short. But he had to warn Seth and Kam of Murielle’s abduction. If Jermon was close to needing a mage’s help, then an assault on the portals was imminent.

He entered the Lormarc guild on the run, sped past startled workers, and leaped into the portal. As soon as he materialized in New Orleans, he called Seth’s cell phone. “Where are you?”

“Kam’s office. We’re getting ready to leave for Cairo.”

“Why Cairo?” Rhyden asked, momentarily diverted.

“There’s a newly revealed statue in their museum. Black obsidian, right size. We think Jermon will go after it.”

“Don’t leave yet. I need to talk with you. I’m on my way.” Rhyden stepped back into the portal and transported to Kam’s office. Seth and Kam were waiting when he materialized.

“Murielle’s been kidnapped,” he said, not wasting precious time.

Seth’s face darkened. “How? When?”

“No, not Murielle,” Kam protested, shaking her head. “We should have made her hide somewhere. The bastards. They better not hurt her.” She looked at Seth. “We’ve got to get her back.”

“But her abduction means Jermon is close to performing the ritual. He plans to have the statue soon—by tonight or tomorrow. Someone has to go to Cairo.”

“You should go. We’ll find Murielle,” Rhyden said. “But why this particular statue? You seem awfully sure.”

Seth and Kam exchanged a look. “Just trust us,” Seth said. “It’s the most likely thing we’ve seen.”

Rhyden frowned. There were pieces of this story he’d missed while he was in Elvenrude involved in the duchaen rebellion. Apparently a few his cousin wouldn’t or couldn’t share. Well, he’d kept his own secrets, hadn’t he?

“I hope you’re right, but there’s also the portals. The attack on them could happen anytime.”

Kam audibly sucked in her breath and nodded. “We’ll take care of it…and warn Trystan. Murielle might not be the only mage in danger.”

Seth caught Rhyden’s arm as he turned to leave. “King Seliwyn will be tempted to close the portals, but make him wait as long as possible. If Jermon knows they’re closed, he’ll go underground and wait weeks or months for another opportunity. The gods only know what the rebels would do to an old woman left in their hands. We need to end this now.”

“I’ll do my best.” Rhyden flashed a grin. “Actually, I’ll put Harad on it.”

Two minutes later, he was back in Elvenrude. The guards on the portal had been doubled in his short absence. They wore titanite chain mail and openly displayed bows, knives, and swords. Merik had clearly instilled Captain Brunic with a sense of urgency.

Rhyden collected his horse from the hitching post outside the guild where he’d left it before retrieving Esty and went in search of Merik. He noted additional guardsmen were already on the streets, knocking on doors, searching houses and even businesses for the missing wise woman. He reined his horse to a halt when a dozen or more riders galloped toward him. Captain Brunic and Merik Trevain were in the lead.

“We couldn’t wait for you any longer,” Brunic said, barely slowing his mount.

Rhyden nudged his horse forward until he was on the captain’s right flank as they rode out of town. “Where are we going?”

“We’ll start with the Everins farm and the hunters’ shelter. But we’ll keep searching until we find her.” Brunic threw Rhyden a dark look that held equal parts of determination and desperation.

“I saw you’d increased the portal guards in case they try to smuggle her out.”

“Jermon has to know we’d reset the portals to deny her transport. The guards are just extra insurance. She’s here somewhere. I’ve dispatched riders in every direction. They have orders to search each house, tree house, farm, or anywhere else she might be concealed. I’ve also sent word to the mines. I don’t care if I offend someone by invading their home or if it causes panic.” After a moment, he added, “It might be time to panic.”

Since Rhyden couldn’t dispute any of that, he nodded and urged his horse to greater speed.

The small farm owned by Kurzi’s cousin was empty, including the horse shed. The house was untidy, drawers and doors carelessly standing open. That seemed to answer the question whether the cousin was involved. It looked like they’d fled, anticipating a visit from the authorities.

The hunters’ shelter in the woods was another dead end. The cold ash in the fire pit and the stale, musty smell indicated it hadn’t been used for days.

“We’re guessing from here.” Brunic’s eyes were bleak. “How much time do you think we have?” he asked Rhyden, keeping his voice low.

“Before they make the anti-magic?” He shrugged. “I just talked with Kam and Seth. They don’t think he has the obsidian yet, but they’ve located a statue at the Egyptian Museum that’s exactly what Jermon wants. They expect he’ll attempt to steal it as early as tonight, and they were transporting to Cairo to intercept him.”

“If they fail or he doesn’t show?”

“Then we’d better find Murielle in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

Brunic gave a curt shake of his head. “Not a lot of time. We’d better split up.” He sketched out a division of territory, marking small sections for pairs of searchers.

Rhyden and Merik were assigned the hilly farmland on the far side of Brierwood. To get there, they had to ride through the village, which fit with Rhyden’s plans. Once they were on their way, Rhyden explained his side errand to Merik, that he needed to enlist his grandfather’s assistance in keeping the portals open.

“The king may not listen to anyone, but Harad Lormarc is exceptionally hard to ignore.”

Merik nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know his reputation.”

Upon arriving in Brierwood, Rhyden swung down and tied his horse outside his grandfather’s home.

“I’ll wait here.” Merik was still seated on his horse.

“You’ll get me in trouble if you do. Harad will want to meet you.” He stopped with one foot on the bottom step. “Come on.”

Merik briefly locked eyes with him before dismounting. “How can I saw no? I wouldn’t want to get you in more trouble than you seem to find on your own.”

Rhyden grinned. He could actually get to like this guy.

When Beesom answered the door, he acted as if Merik’s presence was unremarkable. So did Harad.

“Have a seat,” the old gentleman offered. “I would stand to greet you properly, but these bones don’t move as quickly as they once did. Would you like tea or something stronger?”

“We can’t stay.” Rhyden quickly explained the events of the last few hours and Seth’s concern King Seliwyn might close the portals too soon. “It may come to that, but until we know what happens in Cairo, he hoped you could calm his majesty’s fears. With Brunic busy elsewhere, others may encourage his impetuous side.”

“Very diplomatically said.” Harad gave a deep hoot. “I’ll do what I can. But don’t wait too long before giving us the go-ahead to save as many of our people as we can. I have no desire to have our race snuffed out by a magical Armageddon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kam called Noah Crain as soon as Rhyden left. “I need those special ops teams within the hour.”

A moment’s hesitation. “What’s the situation?”

“The fugitives are on the move, and we’ve seen increased preparations for their arrival here. Their Mexican thugs could show up anytime to take over the guilds.”

“We haven’t picked up recent border activity, but they could have come across earlier this week or by some other route.”

“I’m betting they’re already here. In any case, we have to prepare for the worst. Seth and I are going to Cairo, and we may be able to intercept the fugitives there. But the guilds must be guarded while we’re gone.”

“Ok, kid. This is your call.”

She frowned at his sudden agreement. “How soon?”

“Is thirty minutes soon enough? I sent a signal to the teams the moment you called.”

Then why were they still talking about it?

He went on as if he’d heard her. “I just received their confirmation. We’ll meet you outside the Lormarc Guild. I think it’s the most vulnerable.”

Kam disconnected and turned to Seth. “We just have time to change.”

They transported to their condo. She switched into her black, ninja-style duty clothes; he put on the dark green khakis he favored on missions. Both armed themselves with elven bows, knives, handguns, and their usual magic items. They arrived at the Lormarc Guild seconds before the CIA agent drove up in a black van. He opened the rear door and motioned for Kam and Seth to join him.

“Meet your protection teams. Max and Sarge are the team leaders.”

Kam nodded to the two men and then to the others inside. They looked like combat-fit soldiers in jeans or army fatigues, long-sleeved black shirts barely containing impressive muscles, and steel-toed combat boots. Each carried a large duffle bag of weapons and ammunition.

“Good to have you on the job.” Seth shook hands with the two leaders. “Stay out of sight and take no action unless necessary, but don’t let anyone near that building with a gun or an explosive.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve been briefed,” Max said. “Your building will be secure.” He looked at Crain. “If this continues beyond twenty-four hours, we’ll need a relief team.”

“You’ll get one.”

Max stepped out of the van and motioned for five men to follow him. They faded into the surrounding streets and shadows.

“Want a ride to Ryndel?” Crain offered. “You’ll have to check us in with the guards on the wharf gate.”

Kam rode in the front with Crain; Seth elected to ride in the back. He was probably talking guns with them. “If they’re half as tough as they look, you chose well,” she said. “I still wonder if six men are enough.”

“Two men on each team are snipers who could cover the entire area by themselves.” Crain grinned. “The other four are just backup.”

The guard at the wharf entrance eyed the men in the back of the van, but Kam and Seth’s credentials were in order. A few minutes later, Sarge’s security team dispersed among or on top of container stacks, loading equipment, or roofs of other warehouses, and Crain drove away.

Kam took a last look around. Even her keen eyes had trouble finding them. She nodded with approval, and she and Seth went inside. They spoke briefly with Guild Master Barrott, then stepped into the portal set for Cairo, Egypt.

* * *

Cairo at midnight was still a busy urban setting. The streets of the largest, most densely populated city in Africa teemed with a mixture of honking cars, pickup trucks, bicycles, donkey carts, and pedestrians dashing through traffic that paid no heed to them.

The Lormarc sales office they’d transported to was in one of the city’s skyscrapers, high enough that it provided a spectacular view of the city. Kam stared out the window, struck by the contrast of dark areas and brilliant lights, emphasized by the black swath of the Nile cutting the extended metropolitan area in half. West bank, east bank. It was as much a part of Egyptian directions as left and right. The 1900s Egyptian Museum stood on the east bank to the north of downtown Cairo’s Tahrir Square.

She called their spotter and met him near the front of the museum. Age had not diminished the building’s quiet majesty with its arched windows and statuary guards.

The young man had conducted rounds every few minutes since she’d first called. “Nothing unusual has happened. To give you a quick rundown, there’s an outdated alarm system and two night watchmen on the first floor. I’ve been in the restricted parts of the basement a couple of times in the past two years. Just looking around.” He grinned. “I think I know where the statue might be. Once new items are catalogued and photographed, they’re either placed on display or packed in crates awaiting transfer to the new museum. Since this piece isn’t staying here, it was most likely crated. They’re stored at the opposite end of the basement from the remodeled King Tut exhibit.”

“That’s helpful. Thanks. Call me if you see anything suspicious.”

Seth and Kam circled the building. When they found a dimly lit area that appeared unobserved, they activated the invisibility rings. She leaped to the rooftop, and he teleported to land beside her. They searched for an entrance from the roof and finally crawled through a large vent that allowed heat to escape from a building that was a century behind its time with no air conditioning. When they reached the end of the ductwork, Seth pushed out an interior vent on the balcony level, caught it with one hand before it fell, and pulled it into the airshaft. Kam dropped to the museum floor, and he followed bringing the vent cover. Kam leaped up and popped it back into place.

Even at night, dim lights illuminated many of the museum’s exhibits, and large fans ran constantly, struggling to remove the heat and humidity built up by thousands of daily visitors. They walked quickly past the rows of exhibits and down the lengthy stairs, moving carefully, alert for signs of intruders or the two night watchmen. The first floor held larger statues of pharaohs and Egyptian deities as well as huge glass and wood cases of statuettes, small busts, gold objects, embalming tools—a huge collection of Egyptian life, mostly from the time of the pharaohs and before.

They located the night watchmen first. One sat near the front door drinking hot tea from a glass; the other was reading a newspaper next to the side door in another hallway. Neither seemed particularly concerned about potential intruders.

Seth and Kam returned to the balcony to watch until they’d learned the guards’ routine. Rounds of every floor were made on the hour, and the two men switched positions at that time. The tea drinker was also a smoker. When he was on the side door, he often flipped a simple wall switch to turn off the alarm and stepped outside for a smoke. It would make their exit a whole lot easier.

Confident they could move around freely for at least thirty minutes out of every hour, Seth and Kam set out to explore the rest of the building on the off chance the museum had placed the statue on temporary display. Surrounded by so many artifacts, it was hard for Kam to contain her curiosity. She finally gave in and peered into a glass case. A mummified foot had an object attached to it that looked like a prosthetic big toe made of hardened leather. She nudged Seth and pointed.

He looked and raised a brow. “You’re sight-seeing?” he whispered.

She shrugged and moved on. When they’d made a cursory search of the upper floors, they arrived in the basement and quickly found the locked storage area the spotter had suggested.

Hundreds of wooden crates and packed containers of various sizes and shapes sat near the side and back walls at one end of the huge room. Statues draped with protective cloths stood in rows next to them like ghostly figures frozen in time. This orderly area was in sharp contrast to the far end, where untidy piles of boxes were covered with a layer of dust and uncovered artifacts lay on the floor and shelves. Several boxes stood open. Between these two contrasting sections was a row of tables where the process of cleaning and sorting could be done. With new items brought in every day, it would be a never-ending job.

Kam looked at Seth. “Where do we begin?” She examined one of the containers. “This has numbers on it. If we had access to their computer system, we might locate the obsidian statue that way. Otherwise, it could be a long hunt.” She suddenly frowned. “Why don’t we feel its magic?”

“I don’t think Jermon’s had time to get here before us, and I don’t see signs of a search. We’ve speculated before it might be shielded. Maybe it has the ability to shield itself. Or there’s magical interference by something else.”

“Touching the right container should at least reveal the magic of a shield,” she said. They started on the right, shifting boxes or crates whenever necessary to reach those behind. It would be a long process. And dirty. Kam stopped and bushed the gritty residue off her hands. Sand dust. They’d hardly made a dent. Seth shoved a container with metal corners, and it squealed against the concrete floor. They froze.

But that small sound couldn’t possibly carry all the way upstairs.

“Who’s in there?” a voice from the doorway demanded. A flashlight reached into the dark corners, and the taller of the two museum guards stepped into the room. He was already on his phone. “Get down here. Storage room one.”

Kam’s pulsed jumped, and she backed toward the wall. They’d gotten so involved in looking through the crates they’d lost track of time. The guard was on his regular rounds, and as bad luck would have it, he’d already been in the basement when they’d made that small noise.

She wedged into a tight space between two wooden crates. Seth’s shadowy figure moved toward the far end of the room. They’d kept their invisibility rings active, but they were lucky the man hadn’t heard them talking.

The guard stayed in the doorway and continued to search with his spotlight. One hand hovered over his holstered gun. Within seconds she heard boots clatter down the basement stairs. The second guard ran up to his partner, breathing hard and carrying an automatic rifle raised into firing position. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard something and the door was unlocked, but I don’t see anything now.”

Then Kam’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Not a problem—if it hadn’t rattled against the wood crate.

“Did you hear that?”

She shifted her body immediately, and the sound stopped. But the rifleman swung his gun around and aimed it directly at Kam’s position.

Her heart beat double-time, but she slowly couched to make as small a target as possible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

By the time darkness fell in Elvenrude, Rhyden and Merik had searched seven farms in their designated area without success. At the last home, they’d irritated a family of seven sitting down to supper, and the younger children had responded to their parents’ tone by squalling at the top of their lungs. The incident only added to Rhyden’s growing frustration.

He was cold and hungry. And he wondered if this catchall approach was wasting valuable time. Shouldn’t they be using their heads to figure out where Kurzi might go instead of riding around in circles? He blew his warm breath on his frozen fingers. Gloves weren’t helping much. “I could use a warm mug of hard cider.”

Merik glanced at him. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d prefer something to eat first. I kept thinking how good the farmer’s chickens would look on the end of a roasting stick.” He jerked his head toward a wooded gully to the right of their current path. “Once we check out the lights we saw from that last rise, why don’t we take a break in town to regroup?”

“I’d go for that. Let’s get this done.” Rhyden dug his heels in to urge his stallion down the slope of the ravine. They entered the woods, using the distant light to guide their path. As they drew closer, he narrowed his eyes and slowed his horse. It wasn’t lantern light from a house or hut. It flickered too much.

He put out a cautioning hand as Merik came alongside. “I think it’s a campfire. Who’d be camping out in the middle of winter?”

They swung off their horses and led them cautiously through the trees until they had a clear view. A man crouched over a fire warming his hands. His horse was tied to a nearby tree. Catching the scent of other horses, it suddenly snorted and nickered. The man’s head came up, instantly alert.

“Don’t be alarmed.” Rhyden stepped forward. “We saw your light and—”

Merik grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back as the stranger leaped to his feet, whipped his bow around, and fired. The arrow sank into a tree trunk only inches away.

“Hey, what the hell? Stop shooting,” Rhyden shouted.

When a second arrow nearly cut his ear, Rhyden’s surprise turned to anger. He drew his bow, but Merik had already returned the shot, nicking the stranger’s arm. The man dropped his bow and ran for his horse, struggling to untie it.

“He’s one of them. Probably a sentry.” Merik mounted and spurred his horse forward as the man sprang onto his horse and vanished among the trees.

Rhyden grabbed his stallion’s mane, swung on board, and they’d already joined the chase by the time he gained a secure seat. Branches whipped at horse and rider as they plunged through the brittle underbrush. Finally reaching a moonlit clearing, he saw Merik just ahead.

“Where’d he go?” Rhyden shouted.

“I’m not sure. I think up there.” Merik pointed toward a trail winding up and out of the ravine.

“You follow him, I’m going straight ahead in case he’s drawing us away from his friends.”

“Yo.” Merik lifted a hand in acknowledgement and kicked his horse. It sprang up the rocky path. “Watch your back.”

Rhyden picked his way more carefully now. If the rest of the rebels were ahead, he didn’t want to plunge headlong into an armed camp. The faint path he followed faded into nothing. His stallion had been breaking a new trail for at least ten minutes when he heard someone coming up from behind. He reined his horse around a bramble bush and waited.

A rider finally appeared. As he moved closer, Rhyden relaxed and nudged his horse forward. “Hey, Merik, looking for me?”

The other man started, and his horse reacted by shying sideways. “Geez, don’t do that.” Merik brought his horse under control. “The guy got away. But I recognized him. Name’s Vinc. He lives a mile or two from here. We should check his house, but it’s pretty small for a hideout.” He looked around. “Uh, where were you going? I don’t see a path.”

“Just following the lay of the land,” Rhyden admitted. “I thought I’d find something by now. If the rebels are hiding in here, there must be a farm or a forest hut.”

“The sentry has probably circled and warned them by now,” Merik said disgustedly. “They’ll have fled. In any case, we’re not going to find them in this dense brush. Let’s get out of here and check Vinc’s farm.”

“Ok, then we need to find Brunic. A larger group of searchers might pick up the trail before they get too far.”

“The farm’s on our way.” Merik made a sharp turn to the right. They broke out of the brush five minutes later.

The peat hut belonging to Vinc and his wife sheltered against the side of a hill. It had two living areas but no interior walls separating them. No place to hide anyone. They checked a root cellar that might hold five or six people in a pinch, but it was empty except for stored vegetables and dried meat.

As expected, Vinc wasn’t home. His wife claimed she didn’t know where he was.

“He sometimes plays poker in town.”

“You tell him we were here,” Merik said once they’d remounted and were ready to leave. “Tell him to come talk to me.”

Rhyden was noticing a pattern. Merik didn’t give up on anybody.

The woman remained noncommittal. “I’ll tell him.” She stood in the lighted doorway until they were almost out of sight.

“Now we find Brunic.” Rhyden turned his horse toward town and gave him his head. The stallion broke into a lope.

“And food,” Merik added.

“Yeah, that too.”

* * *

Esty frowned at her parents. She still wasn’t over the ignominy of being dumped at home. “I don’t understand why you think I’m in danger. I’m not a mystic…or anyone else important.”

Her father gave her a reproving look. “You’re important to us.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Instantly contrite for pouting, she hugged him. “But honestly, Father, he didn’t need to call you home from work.”

“To the contrary, Rhyden showed rare good sense. Until we know exactly what’s happening, I want to be sure my family is safe.” He reached out an arm to his wife. “For the first time, I’m glad Kameo isn’t in Elvenrude. These rebels are not to be taken lightly.”

Esty shivered, remembering the horrific barn fire. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of the day at home. It was getting late anyway. But tomorrow she was going back to the guild. She had a traitor to find.

The rest of the afternoon, she watched the door and listened for steps on the walkway. She hoped Rhyden would reappear to report Murielle had been found. But the supper hour came and went with no news.

As night settled over Brierwood, she thought more and more about Murielle’s plight, alone, frightened, in the hands of ruffians. If that happened to Esty, how would she defend herself?

She opened the bedroom closet she’d shared with Kam for twenty-four years and dug around inside. Her sister’s guard bag was gone. The extra weapons must be in New Orleans. Esty had a bow, and she knew how to shoot, but she couldn’t go around town armed with that. She needed something smaller she could conceal…like a knife. She briefly considered taking one from the kitchen, but her mother would notice immediately. It would be so much simpler to borrow one from Kam. If only she was in New Orleans…

Well, why not? Wasn’t the city actually a safer place for her right now? She could be there and back in half an hour…and Rhyden would never know. Besides, she’d go crazy if she had to sit here any longer, imaging all the bad things that might happen to Murielle.

She stuffed boxes and bags back into her closet and considered the possible obstacles to her plan. The biggest was getting a weapon through the portal without declaring it. She nodded to herself and smiled. The portal safe. Just like Rhyden had smuggled his gun. All she needed was an owner’s access code. Her father changed his weekly, but she’d known for years the current code was in a hidden drawer of his study desk. She and Kam had discovered it when Esty was eleven. Kam had used it to smuggle in a music device they’d played non-stop until it lost its charge.

Hoping the nervous beating of her heart didn’t give her away, Esty went to the kitchen for a drink of water and told her parents she was going to bed early with a book. With the lie out of the way, she returned to her room and changed into a dark shirt and jeans. She set her short cape on the bed and a multi-colored handbag to conceal the weapon on her way home.

Were her parents never going to bed? More than an hour passed before the house was finally quiet. She waited another twenty minutes, then tiptoed to the study, jimmied the drawer, and memorized the code. KDX793. Within seconds she was out the front door and hurrying across town to the Lormarc Guild.

Her choice of portals raised a few eyebrows, but this was the only way she could think to do it. The Ryndel staff would have mentioned a late night departure to her father in the morning. She’d have to come back through the Ryndel portal in order to use the safe code, but a late return from visiting her sister was less reason for comment. She hoped.

Kam and Seth’s apartment was dark. She’d expected it. One of the portal guards mentioned they’d left for Cairo chasing a lead on Jermon. She felt a twinge of envy but shook it off. She admired her sister’s confidence and fearless leaps into the thick of things, but Esty knew that wasn’t the life for her. An occasional rush of excitement? Oh, yeah. But not a steady dose. Her dreams held a bunch of children…somewhere in the future.

She searched Kam’s room, found the guard bag under the bed, and unzipped it. Her heart sank. The weapons were gone. All of them. She sank back on her heels. Her trip had been for nothing.

Then she remembered the nightstand.

She pulled the top drawer open and looked inside. Yes. Right where it should be.

* * *

It took Rhyden and Merik the better part of an hour to locate Brunic. He immediately sent riders to call in the other teams, and they returned to his office at the palace to reorganize the search. Based on Rhyden’s report, the captain dispatched fresh teams to the gully area, and he ordered Rhyden and the other initial searchers to take a few hours off. Rhyden, Merik, and several of the guards protested and followed Brunic outside.

The captain swung astride a fresh horse brought from the stable. “If Kurzi Everins’s gang is still in that area, we’ll find them. If not, this search will drag into tomorrow or beyond, and we’ll need fresh teams again.”

“What about you?” Rhyden asked. “You’ve been at this as long as we have.”

“I’m going to give it another couple hours, then follow my own advice. Check in at my office in the morning. If we haven’t found her, there will be a list of search areas that still need to be done.”

Rhyden’s stomach growled. The guards headed for the palace guard quarters where the cafeteria was always open. Since Rhyden no longer had official status there, he joined Merik at a local pub that catered to a mixed class clientele. Their arrival together caused a few surprised looks but nothing out of line, and customers quickly returned to their dinners or drinks. The two men didn’t have much to say—after all they’d been together for hours now—so they ate and drank in relative silence before agreeing to meet again at five.

“Unless we hear good news before then,” Rhyden added.

“Dreamer.” Merik wound a scarf around his neck as they stepped into the cold night.

Rhyden turned toward the Lormarc Guild. A few hours in his own bed would be better than a full night on a cot. He nodded at the portal guards.

“‘Evening, sir. You must have been involved in the search. Any news?”

“Not yet. I hope you’re monitoring departures.”

“Yes, sir. We are. Only one recent transport. Definitely not a rebel.”

“That’s good.”

The guard tilted his head, a hint of a smile showing, clearly wanting to be asked about the other transport. But Rhyden was too tired for idle gossip. If it wasn’t one of Kurzi’s gang, he didn’t care who it was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kam crouched between the crates of Egyptian relics, holding her breath, not daring to twitch. The museum guard swung his rifle barrel slowly around the area, while his partner probed with the flashlight. Seth’s cloaked shadow moved toward the two men from the dark end of the room.

“Nothing here, Ahmed. You’re so jumpy you’ve got me hearing things.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ahmed muttered. “The researchers forget and leave the door unlocked all the time. Sorry, my friend. It’s that first night back from vacation. I’ve forgotten all the creaks and groans of this old building.”

The other guard let the rifle drop to his side. “Probably rats. But you scared me.”

Ahmed noisily blew out his cheeks. “I scared myself.” He ran his light over the floor near the walls. “I should have thought about the rats.”

“Well, no harm.” The rifleman slung his arm over his partner’s shoulders. “I’m wide awake now. How about a pot of your tea?”

Kam waited until she heard their footsteps on the stairs before rising and stepping out from between the crates. She was immediately seized by strong arms and crushed against Seth’s chest. She felt the pounding of his heart, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “I thought he was going to shoot blindly, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

She clung to his arms, her own fears dissolving in the need to reassure him. “But I’m OK. Really.”

Still holding her close, he walked her backward behind the crates. “I want to see for myself.”

He materialized at the same time she did and covered her mouth with his. His fear overflowed into passion. When they were both short on breath, he lifted his head. “I don’t ever want to be that scared again. Even when you were missing last summer, I had hope. For an instant tonight, I didn’t.”

She rested her cheek against him. “I saw his eyes. He was on the edge of pressing the trigger…then mentally stepped back.” She looked up at him. “I wasn’t ready for our time to be over.”

“We’ve hardly begun.” He kissed her again, more softly this time.

When her phone vibrated for the fourth time, they broke the kiss, and she answered it.

“Prince Trystan is out here,” the young spotter said.

She mouthed Trystan’s name to Seth. Although they hadn’t heard from the Cyrilian prince after sending him word of Murielle’s abduction and their Cairo trip, she wasn’t surprised he’d tracked them down. Catching the rogues and finding the obsidian was as vital to Cyrilia as Elvenrude.

“If they’re still drinking tea upstairs, we can get him in the side door,” Seth suggested.

She told the spotter where Trystan should meet them and to come cloaked in invisibility. She and Seth reactivated their rings. As she twisted the band, she noted for the hundredth time how much more convenient it was than her heirloom amulet necklace, which remained safely at home. Seth’s ring had been taken from one of the Cyrilian rogues last summer, but Kam’s had been a recent present from Trystan. Just one of the things that had cemented their friendship.

The upper halls of the museum were empty. Both guards were near the front entrance, sharing jokes or funny stories over glasses of hot tea. Whatever the conversation was, they were both laughing. Kam and Seth moved quickly through the building to the side entrance. She flipped the alarm switch to off, and Seth opened the door.

A shadowy figured appeared, and Seth stepped back to let Trystan inside. When a second shadow came into view, he blocked access. “Who’s with you?” Seth demanded.

“Tadeous. Let me explain.”

Kam swallowed a screech of anger and ducked under Seth’s arm. “He’s not coming in here,” she said in a harsh whisper. “How could you bring him?”

“He wants to help us. We’ve talked, Kam. I believe him.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“I’ll be responsible for him, but we have a right to be in on this.”

“We can’t stand in the doorway arguing,” Seth said. “In or out. The guard could return any minute. And this is the guard carrying the big rifle.”

“Then it’s out,” Kam said shoving Trystan outside and following him.

Seth gave a noticeable sigh and joined her, allowing the door to close behind him. “If we’re going to fight about it, let’s move away from the building so we can decloak and see each other.”

He led the way, and they ran across the street and into an alley. Once there, they all deactivated their rings.

Kam ignored Tad and stepped in front of Trystan with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You had no right. This is pushing the bounds of our friendship.”

“Kam, I—”

“Tryst, let me talk for myself.” Tad wedged himself between them, but Kam turned and walked away. “If you and Seth insist, I’ll wait out here with your spotter, but—”

She spun around. “So you can warn them before they get inside? And what would you do to my spotter? Kill him?”

Seth slipped his arm around her waist. “We won’t get far by interrupting one another. If Trystan thinks his brother should be here, let’s at least hear what they have to say.”

Kam fumed. Seth was being reasonable, and she almost resented it. They’d already skated close enough to death a couple of times in the past week without inviting a traitor into their ranks. “Fine. Talk.” She flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“I know I’ve been a pain…and an idiot.” Tad’s anxious look moved back and forth between Kam and Seth. “I can’t take any of it back, but helping you stop Dreysel and Jermon is important to me.”

“I’m not interested in jeopardizing this mission to make you feel better.” Kam knew how cold she sounded, but what did they expect? Elvenrude wouldn’t be in this fix if Tad hadn’t helped Jermon escape. “We don’t need you. You’re nothing but a liability.”

Tad looked at Seth. “Is that how you feel too?”

“I haven’t heard anything that would change my mind.”

“Then do it for me,” Trystan said. “Cyrilia can’t have its royal house divided. Tad and I have spent days and nights talking. I made mistakes with him, indulging his whims yet excluding his input on things that mattered.”

“Are you justifying his plot to kill you?” Kam demanded incredulously.

Trystan shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. “Just admitting he had little reason to believe in me. It gave Dreysel an opening. Tadeous knows he was wrong, and he’s grown up a lot in the last four months. I’ve set the past behind me…because he’s my brother, and I need his help with whatever Cyrilia’s future turns out to be.”

Seth squeezed her arm, and she looked up at him. “You think we should accept this, don’t you?” she asked.

Seth shrugged. “It’s Tryst’s decision.”

Trystan’s face showed obvious relief. “If he betrays us again, I’ll be the first to put a dagger in his heart.”

“No, I will.” Kam stepped forward and looked Tad in the eye. “That’s a promise.”

He held her gaze without flinching. “I get it.”

Kam and Seth waited by the roof vent for Trystan and Tad to scale the walls of the building, then led the way through the airshaft. They remained in the duct system several extra minutes while the guards completed their hourly rounds. Once the balcony was clear, they jumped to the floor, and Kam put the wall vent back in place.

With Trystan to help—Kam ignored Tad’s presence—they split into two teams and conducted a more thorough search of the two upper floors, checking every display case for the black statue. They saw thousands of interesting artifacts, but not the one they wanted.

The basement was much the same. The exhibit from Tutankhamun’s tomb contained priceless gold jewelry, small funerary statuettes, bowls, jars, even furniture. Some small pieces were fashioned from obsidian or decorated with the volcanic stone—the eyes of King Tut’s mask were black obsidian—but nothing matched the size or magical energy of Elvenrude’s Heart of Ishka.

Although small amounts of magic could be felt in nearly every room, Kam wondered again about the lack of an obvious center of magical power. Humans wouldn’t know enough to store the artifact in iron, a substance that inhibited many elven magics, and self-shielding would still leave a detectable trace.

But more than a picture on the Internet had drawn her here. Some primitive sense. If the statue wasn’t the original Ishka stone, it was something just as dangerous in the wrong hands, an ancient piece whose latent power had yet to be released. Perfect for Jermon’s purposes, but difficult to identify in its present state without holding it in your hands.

By the time it was morning in Cairo, they’d searched and eliminated every exhibit room and were working on the storage areas and the packed crates. The museum opened in an hour, and tourists would flood the aisles. Even invisible elves would find it impossible to avoid bumping into someone.

“Does anyone believe Jermon would make a daylight attempt?” Kam asked, as they gathered in the storage room downstairs.

“Too risky.” Seth waved a hand at the disorganized end of the room. “I assume someone will soon arrive to work in here. People will be everywhere until the museum closes. Only a fool would try to search under those conditions.”

“And Jermon’s no fool.” She looked at Trystan. “Let’s suspend our efforts until tonight.”

He looked resigned and discouraged. After spending the last forty-five minutes running his hands over the crates as Kam and Seth had already done several hours ago, he’d given up. “I don’t like waiting, but we’re not going to find the statue unless we open the crates. We can’t do that during the day.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped in a number. “I’ll bring in another spotter to play tourist and wander around the exhibits, watching for anything suspicious. That way we can all take a break. Jermon and Dreysel are probably coming in by commercial or chartered flight, but they’re sure to be here by evening. We need to be rested and waiting.”

She refocused on the phone and asked Tomas to cover the museum, then disconnected. “All done. He’ll be here before nine.” She cocked her head. “You know, if we work around the museum’s hours of nine to seven, we can follow tourists in and out without having to mess with the airshaft or the alarms. Now, where do we spend the day?”

Seth held up his phone. “I got that covered. Two suites already reserved at the nearest hotel. We’d have to rest sometime.”

Kam glanced at the time on her phone screen—another half hour. Too tired to figure out where to look next, they sat down to wait. Tad moved to the far side of the room and sat on the floor leaning his head against the wall. He’d wisely stayed out of Kam’s way, and she hadn’t seen anything suspicious…yet. But she still didn’t trust him. An unpredictable quantity.

At nine, they made their way out through the lines of tourists and found their hotel. Kam thought about calling home, but it was 2:00 a.m. in New Orleans. She fell across the bed and went to sleep.

When she woke it was midafternoon in Cairo. Seth was out somewhere. Since it was morning in New Orleans, she sat cross-legged on the bed and called Guild Master Barrott for an update on Elvenrude. He reported Captain Brunic had raided a farm overnight where Kurzi’s rebels had held Murielle for several hours, but they’d already fled with their captive. The family who’d harbored them had been taken into custody.

“Rhyden and Merik Trevain are searching with the Guard again today. I’m worried what those criminals might do to an old woman if she isn’t found soon.” He cleared his throat. “The guild’s been quiet. No sign of the Mexicans, and I’ve hardly noticed the security team. The CIA guy’s black van was outside about an hour a go, then left. He didn’t come in. Not real social, are they?”

Kam chuckled, satisfied Crain was on the job, and hung up. She showered and dressed in casual clothes—jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt in deference to the Egyptian preference for covered arms. All she needed was a water bottle and a camera to be the typical tourist.

The door rattled, and Seth walked in carrying a tray with coffee and containers of food.

“What did you bring? I’m starving.”

While they ate a variety of food choices—western and Egyptian—from the hotel’s restaurant, Kam told him the news from home, and they talked about their plans for the day, probably their last day in Egypt. With Murielle already in the hands of the rebels, Jermon was either coming tonight, or—gods forbid—he wasn’t coming there at all.

Kam checked in with their spotter inside the museum—hordes of tourists, no sign of trouble. She and Seth decided to walk around Tahrir Square, and they secured their weapons: mini crossbows in their hooded jackets tied around their waists, pistols in inside waist holsters, and knives in their boots. Kam shoved her guard bag under the bed. She looked up as Seth answered a sharp rap on the door and admitted Trystan. The Cyrilian was scowling.

“What’s up?” Seth looked behind the other man. “Where’s Tad?”

“I don’t know. He took off while I was taking a shower.”

“He what?” Kam leaped to her feet. “Let’s find him before he does something stupid. Like contact Dreysel.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Tad stood in the open doorway, his eyes serious. “None of you trust me, even Tryst. I get it. But I just went to the lobby for a map.” He handed the colorful laminated sheet to his brother. “You said you wanted this.”

Kam narrowed her eyes. “How do we know that’s all you did?”

“I guess you don’t.” Tad shoved his hands in his pockets. “How do I convince you?”

“You can’t.” Kam was more resigned than angry. His story was plausible. And he’d returned quickly on his own. “If you take off like that again, you’re going home.”

Tad looked up, surprised. “You mean, I can stay?”

“That’s up to your brother.” She edged past him and into the hall. “I’m going to look around town. We have several hours before the museum closes. See if you can stay out of trouble that long.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rhyden and Merik arrived at the palace pre-dawn at five o’clock and heard the news of Brunic’s overnight raid on the farm. The captain met them with dark circles under his eyes and admitted, despite his best intentions, the raid and the questioning of the farm family had kept him up all night. He’d gained two valuable pieces of information: Murielle was alive and unharmed, and Kurzi Everins was on the run with ten hardcore followers.

Rhyden gave Merik a quiet thumbs-up. The number of rebels meant Merik’s efforts had been successful in raising doubts and breaking off part of a group that had been more than two dozen a week ago.

Encouraged by the news, they formed larger parties of five to seven to combat Everins’s band of eleven and set out to bring in the rebels. Rhyden and Merik rode with Captain Brunic and two of his senior archers.

As they left town around five-thirty, the snow that had threatened for the last two days began to fall, creating a slippery surface for the horses in the rockier areas. The five riders headed for a search grid south of the farm where the raid occurred. They came to a fork and turned right.

“This is the direction they fled last night,” Brunic said. “We tracked them into the hills before the trail faded, and I’m hoping they stayed on this general path.”

It was a bluff area, replete with conifer trees, small ravines, large boulders, and divided by two streams, partially frozen along the edges. It held plenty of places to hide, but the deteriorating weather actually narrowed their search. The temperature was dropping, the snow was steady now, and Kurzi’s band was fleeing with an old woman, one they needed to keep alive. They needed a warm, dry shelter.

When Brunic’s search team reached the top of a particularly steep hill, Rhyden shielded his eyes from the wet flakes with one hand and peered ahead. Like the others, he was looking for any kind of structure or a campfire. What he saw was puzzling…a dense wall of falling snow less than ten feet ahead of them. The horses in the lead stopped on their own, sidestepping, reluctant to walk into near blindness.

“Easy, boy.” Rhyden patted his stallion’s neck.

“What in Hades is this?” Brunic asked, struggling to control his horse. “Something feels off, unnatural.” He twisted to look back at Rhyden. “Can Murielle do this kind of magic? Could they be forcing her to stop us?”

“I’m not sure. She uses earth magic, plants and minerals mostly, not water and ice. Besides, won’t this slow them more than us?”

“She communes with fairies,” Merik said suddenly. “I’ve visited with her. A colony lives in her garden. They’re territorial, protect their own.”

“What would garden fairies have to do with snow?” Brunic asked. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. It’s just a snow squall line.”

“Fairies is fairies,” one of the archers muttered. “If Everins offended the garden fairies, the snow fairies might make mischief.”

“Yeah, OK, believe what you want. If you’re right, maybe these pissed off fairies have helped us by forcing the rebels to stop and take shelter. This could be our chance to catch them.” Brunic persistently nudged and reined his horse toward the wall of snow until it finally stepped forward, and they were enveloped by whiteness. “I can barely see the path,” Brunic called back. “But I think we can make it. It’s a little better once you’re in here.”

Rhyden was right behind him, and Merik was on Rhyden’s left. The jingle of bridles indicated the two archers were close on their horses’ tails. The snow seemed less menacing now, and Rhyden didn’t feel as claustrophobic as expected. But the path was slippery, and he allowed his horse to pick its way. Rhyden brushed the ice and snow from the stallion’s forelock and ears. One of them needed to see.

“Drop off on the right,” Brunic said suddenly.

Rhyden kneed his mount to the left and relayed the warning to those in the rear. He looked over the edge as they made the narrow pass. It looked like a dead horse lay halfway down. He grimaced to think about the fate of the rider. The rebels must have discovered the drop-off the hard way.

They rode in near blindness another few yards, until the snow around them lightened enough that he could see a clear path ahead. With a second look, he realized snow walls a few feet away on either side of them were as dense as before, as if Rhyden and his companions moved through a tunnel. This definitely wasn’t normal.

He squinted at tiny movements on his right, directly over the drop-off. Snowflakes were displaced by tiny gusts of wind…like fluttering wings? Snow fairies, as the archer suggested? Were they showing the way? Or was it nothing but a snow mirage and his imagination?

When no one else said anything, Rhyden brushed the snow off his face and kept his eyes on the narrow trail.

Over the next rise, the path dipped, then began a steady climb. He heard splashing water. They’d found the second stream that came out of the mountains, and they followed the edge of the cliff. It finally cut downward through a slit in the rock. The path was icy, and they saw another carcass—this time with a dead rider trapped underneath—where a horse had lost its footing and plunged off the edge. Without this strange area of lightened snow, Brunic’s band might have suffered the same fate. Their downward progress ended in an area of rock overhangs and shallow recesses in the mountainside.

The snow path faded, the storm returned to a moderate snowfall, and Brunic halted. He pointed a gloved hand at a dim glow ahead. “Isn’t that a light?”

“Could be, Captain,” one of the archers said.

“Let’s check it out.”

Brunic slid off his horse, and the others dismounted, clapping their goatskin gloves to remove excess snow and get numb fingers working again. Rhyden’s nose felt like an icicle. They led the horses back up the path until they found a hemlock tree to break the wind and tethered them.

Brunic directed the archers to take the ridge above. “See if you can get on the other side of that light and determine what’s ahead of us. Stay together so no one gets lost, then report back. Rhyden and I will get a better look from this level. Trevain, you’ll stay with the horses.” When Merik protested, the captain gave him an impatient look. “We’d be in a damned mess if the horses took off.”

Merik turned away without another word.

Rhyden shot a reproving look at Brunic. Yeah, the horses were important, but it was more likely they’d hunker under the trees than run off into the fury of such bad weather. The captain ignored him and stepped closer to the cliff face. Rhyden finally followed, and they picked their way carefully for three or four minutes before stopping to peer around a large boulder.

The light of a campfire flickered under a flat ledge of rock that projected out fifteen feet or so, providing a crude roof for several men huddled around the fire. A heavily bundled figure lay under a makeshift tent of sticks and blankets between the fire and the back wall. Murielle.

Having confirmed their suspicions, Brunic and Rhyden retreated to confer with the others. When the archers appeared, they added their observations.

“We couldn’t see much of the camp from above,” the older archer said. “But it looks like we could climb down and get on the far side of them.”

“We’ll catch them in a crossfire,” Brunic said, quickly making up his mind. “Considering the two casualties we saw, Everins’s band is down to nine. That’s not even two apiece.”

“Hardly seems worth the effort,” the young archer quipped.

A smile flickered on Brunic’s face before he turned to the older man. “You and Lormarc come at them from the north. We’ll give you ten minutes to get into position.” He looked at the young archer, then Merik, as if debating, and back at the archer. “Cover us with your bow and block the escape route. If they start anything, shoot them. Trevain will be with me on the south side. Any questions?”

Rhyden and the older archer scrambled up the cliff and down the far side until they found a position where they could see and be ready to drop into the natural shelter. A few minutes later, Brunic and Merik suddenly appeared in the light of the campfire with drawn bows.

“Lay down your arms,” the captain snapped. “By order of the king. You’re surrounded with no place to go.”

For one long, interminable second, everyone froze. Then Kurzi Everins seized a flaming branch from the fire and threw it at Brunic. The captain jumped back to avoid it, and the scene erupted into action. The backup archer took down the first rebel casualty with an arrow through the heart. Merik scored the second. A third rebel was shot in the thigh by the older bowman as he and Rhyden leaped into the fight.

From that moment, it was hand-to-hand combat with fists and knives. Rhyden attempted to shove his way across the campsite to reach Murielle but was tackled from behind. It took him several seconds to extricate himself. He rolled over and spotted Kurzi holding the old woman in front of him with one arm clamped across her chest. In the other hand, a knife held at her throat glittered in the firelight.

Kurzi looked Rhyden straight in the eye. “You lose.”

Rhyden grabbed the Smith & Wesson from his coat pocket. It flitted through his mind that this man was blood kin, but without hesitation he pulled the trigger. The noise reverberated in the overhang, bringing a momentary secession in the fighting. Rhyden heard Murielle’s frightened squeak as she was abruptly released. Kurzi stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes, a round black hole in his forehead. Murielle crumpled to the ground as Kurzi toppled backward.

With the dramatic death of their leader, the remaining rebels lost their will to fight and were quickly subdued. Survivors were placed in restraints and serious wounds inspected; Rhyden crouched beside the wise woman.

“Are you all right? Let me help you up.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just sit here a minute,” she said pulling a blanket more snuggly around her. “This is more excitement than I’m used to.”

A steely grip from above cramped onto Rhyden’s shoulder, and he was roughly hauled to his feet.

“What the—”

“You shot him.” Brunic glared at him from mere inches away. “Where in Hades did you get that gun? You might have missed and killed Murielle.”

Rhyden jerked his arm free. “Not from ten feet,” he said, halfway offended. “I’m a good shot. Seth makes me go with him to the range every week.”

“Is that your best explanation? You crossed the line by bringing a gun into Elvenrude.”

“He saved my life,” Murielle said staunchly, coming to his defense. She got to her feet assisted by one of the archers. “Kurzi was going to kill me.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Brunic said. “But I can’t ignore a flagrant disregard of Elvenrude’s laws.”

“What law did he break?” Merik stepped forward, not even looking at Rhyden. “I believe he took that gun off one of the fallen rebels.”

“Is that so. You believe that, do you?” Brunic looked away and rubbed his gloved hands against one another. “That, of course, would be an entirely different matter. It would place the focus of this incident where it should be…on Murielle’s timely rescue.” He took a look around the campsite and nudged a dead man at his feet. “Is this the guy who had the gun?”

Rhyden looked at the corpse as if considering and answered carefully. “It might have been.”

Brunic grunted and held out his hand to take the gun. “I guess that settles it. I’ll dispose of the weapon. The rest of you, let’s get busy and get Murielle and the prisoners back to town. We’ll send someone back for the bodies after the storm.”

Well, damn. That was one of his favorite guns.

After lifting Murielle onto one of the rebels’ horses huddled at the back of the shelter, Rhyden caught Merik’s gaze and gave a brief jerk of his head. He owed the man a pint…or maybe a cask of ale.

Strangely enough, as they started the journey back to town, the snow stopped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Since Esty wasn’t allowed to help Rhyden and the Guard search for Murielle, she sent word to Olseon she was resuming her interviews that morning. As she hurried through the village, the few people she met were buzzing with news of the abduction and the raid overnight. Villagers were frightened and confused, not understanding why the wise woman had been snatched from her home or what the kidnapping meant for them.

The widespread rumor of a link to the duchaen rebellion engendered anger and frustration on both sides. Fortunately, the bitter winds and threat of snow discouraged folks from remaining outside long enough to cause trouble.

Esty hunched against the wind, grateful she didn’t have far to go. She watched for Rhyden, just in case he was passing through town. Of course, he wasn’t.

Nor did she see Ellyn, and she hoped her friend stayed inside. It wouldn’t be a good day for any of the duchaen to be seen around town. Esty was pretty sure Merik was interested enough in Ellyn to see she wouldn’t be part of the search teams. Sometimes alpha men were handy to have around.

With the wind nipping at her back, she entered the guild house to find an outwardly peaceful scene in contrast to both the weather and the mood outside. Olseon stood on the balcony, surveying the workplace below; he gave her a long-suffering look and an artificial half-smile. His discomfort raised her own spirits. Anything she could do to brighten his day.

A revised interview schedule lay on the table in her temporary office space. She picked it up and burst out laughing. Olseon seemed anxious to have her gone. He’d squeezed all ten remaining interviews—four supervisory, six employee—into today, allotting a half hour for each with no breaks between.

No problem. She’d simply cut out some of the non-essential questions. Even with this schedule, she hoped to be done by midafternoon and home well before dark. She tapped her chin with one finger. Although…she should probably complain. Wouldn’t he expect it?

She left the storage area and walked purposefully toward the Guild Master’s office. It grew quiet wherever she passed, and workers followed her progress. There was more tension in the room than she’d first noticed. The facade of calm might be just that, a false front. Lormarc had recently hired several duchaen workers and one duchaen supervisor. They’d never been serious suspects because each had been highly vetted by Seth and Rhyden. In the current climate, the mere presence of the crossbreeds might stir animosity among the common workers and Elite elves on staff. Olseon might earn his pay today.

He greeted her stiffly. “I took the liberty of planning your schedule. Your first interview is in five minutes.”

“Yes, I saw that. How kind of you to help, but I may not be able to complete such an ambitious schedule in one day.”

“We need to return to a normal routine as quickly as possible. Free of disruptions…despite events in the community.”

“Oh, I understand, Guild Master. I’ll do my best, but I’d rather take another day or two than rush through, miss something, and have to schedule additional interviews for next week.” She smiled.

“Um, yes, of course, we don’t need a second week of interruptions.”

“I thought you’d agree.” Esty returned to her interviews. Baiting Olseon hadn’t been as much fun as she’d thought. He was much too distracted.

Esty turned her head and coughed to hide a yawn. The interviews had grown tedious. The forty-five-year-old transport employee seated across from her didn’t appear to notice her inattention as he continued his long list of complaints about fellow workers. She’d already told him that was beyond the scope of her inquiry, and for a while he’d switched to how many times he’d approached supervisors with the same issues. As far as she could tell, the only issues were his abrasive personality and a strong dose of paranoia.

She checked the battery-operated clock on the table and stood. “I’m afraid we’re out of time.” She hurried to the door of her makeshift office and pulled it open. Sherlee recoiled as if scalded by hot water. It was obvious she’d had her ear to the door. “May I help you?” Esty asked.

“No, no. I was just walking past. You startled me. I have to get back to work.”

Esty stared after her and barely heard the departing interviewee’s protest that he wasn’t finished. “Don’t worry,” she said before closing the door behind him. “I have all I need. Thank you so much.”

She counted to ten and opened the door again. The tiresome man was gone. She peeked around the corner and found Sherlee seated at her desk. Why had she been lurking? Excessive curiosity? Or spying?

Esty peered more closely. Why wasn’t the woman working? The papers on Sherlee’s cubicle desk lay untouched, nor was she watching her assembly line crew. She simply sat there, tapping a foot, as if impatient for something to happen.

Intrigued, Esty continued to watch. She should get back to her interviews. The next person on the schedule would be waiting. But something about this just wasn’t right.

A minute, then two passed with no change. Esty was ready to give up when Sherlee cast a furtive look above her, as if noticing something or someone on the balcony, then she stood and headed for the ladies’ restroom. At the last minute, she detoured left and out of sight.

To where? What was back there? Esty envisioned that part of the guild. The portal, the assembly tables, a rear exit, and the back stairs to the balcony. Sherlee might have gone to any of them.

The woman reappeared, walked briskly to her desk, and noisily opened and closed drawers as if looking for something. But she didn’t peer inside, place anything there, or take anything out. For some strange reason, she was putting on an act.

Esty was enthralled with the performance.

When Sherlee slammed the last drawer closed, she said something that might have been “There it is” and abruptly turned, headed for the back of the guild again.

This time Esty wasn’t letting her get away unobserved. She strolled across to the ladies’ room, taking her time as she kept one eye on Sherlee. The woman went straight to the portal, took a paper from her pocket, and sent a message to someone outside of Elvenrude.

Esty’s fingers trembled with excitement. She could hardly wait to get her hands on today’s portal log and read a message that required so much subterfuge. She noted the time of dispatch…approximately 2:30 p.m. If it contained anything incriminating—and she’d be surprised if it didn’t—she’d have her leak. Or at least one of them. She’d give anything to know where the woman had gotten the note before putting on that odd show.

Hastening through her last two interviews, she gathered her files and grabbed the colored bag she’d taken to New Orleans last night. She was too impatient to wait until morning to view the portal log and stopped for a copy on her way out. The guard didn’t question the break in routine, handed her the printout, and she turned toward the front entrance.

Olseon intercepted her a few feet from the door. “May I have a moment of your time?”

“I’m rather in a hurry. I have an appointment I really must keep.”

“I’ll be brief. I…” He looked around and lowered his voice. “I observed something I thought you should know. We need to speak in private.”

Had he seen Sherlee’s unusual behavior? She hesitated, feeling a twinge of uneasiness, but maybe it was just her general dislike of the man. What if he could tell her where Sherlee had gotten the note? She finally nodded.

“All right, Guild Master. But it must be short.”

“Since your interview room is closer than my office, shall we step inside?”

Esty led the way. The moment the lock clicked behind her, she stopped in midstride. She’d made a terrible mistake.

She turned slowly, clutching her files and bag to her chest. Olseon stood next to the door with a dagger in his hand. It looked out of place against his immaculate gray business suit…and all the more deadly.

Her heart thumped against her rib cage. Stay calm. Think. How would Kam handle this?

She took a shaky breath. “What’s the meaning of this? Get away from the door. I wish to leave.”

He gave a half laugh, and his face twisted into a patronizing sneer. “I don’t care what you wish. You just couldn’t keep your nose out of things, could you?”

“The owners asked me to do this survey.”

“Did they also ask you to spy on me? Or Sherlee? Oh, yes, I saw you watching her. When you picked up the portal log so early, I knew you’d seen her send the message.”

He walked toward her and Esty backed away, putting the table between them.

“I can’t let you ruin things when we’re so close,” he continued conversationally. “Twenty-four hours and you might have lived. Maybe not the plush life you have now, but King Jermon—with me at his side—would have found a use for you.”

“King Jermon?” Esty’s paralyzing fear vanished. “You’re crazy, Olseon. You and Jermon Lormarc both. The King’s Guard, my sister, Seth, Rhyden…none of them will let that happen.”

He shook his head and moved to circle the table. “They can’t stop it. Events are already in motion. Your friends are outnumbered, and you’re merely a minor annoyance.” He took another step around the table; she mirrored his movement. “You might as well stop where you are. There’s nowhere to go.”

She set her files on the table, her hand still holding the colorful bag. “What are you going to do with the body, Guild Master?” Esty saw the uncertainty cross his face. “Knives are messy weapons, you know. You’ll get blood all over your hands and on your spotless clothes. You’re a businessman, not a ruffian like Kurzi Everins. I’d bet you’ve never killed anyone.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“But it isn’t today.” Esty reached into her bag and pulled out Kam’s Glock.

Olseon lunged across the table while she was still finding the trigger.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Once Murielle was in the hands of the healers—despite her half-hearted protests—Rhyden assisted Captain Brunic, Merik, and the two archers in taking the survivors of Kurzi’s gang to the palace. The rebels were subjected to intense questioning, and Rhyden’s fingers and toes lost their numbness by the time it was over. With Kurzi dead and their own fate uncertain, the rebels hadn’t held back for long, hoping their cooperation would gain them mercy.

King Seliwyn wasn’t likely to see it that way.

While most of their suspicions were confirmed, including Jermon’s guiding hand on Kurzi’s activities, no one knew who was in direct contact with him. Only Kurzi had known.

“We need that last piece,” Brunic said. “As long as Jermon has access to anyone inside our world, he’ll continue to be a menace.”

“Unless Kam and Seth get him first,” Rhyden corrected. “But I admit this Cairo trip is a long shot.” The fugitives could be almost anywhere on earth’s seven continents.

“We can’t count on it. He keeps finding a way to slip away and survive.”

“Oh, they’ll eventually get him. But will it be in time…before Jermon finds a new gang to help him?” Rhyden pushed back his chair and stood. “I guess the leak is where we concentrate our efforts tomorrow. Esty Ryndel’s been checking portal messages and interviewing guild workers. When I last talked with her, she’d narrowed her list to four suspects. We can start with those. I’ll pick up the names when I let the Ryndels know Murielle’s been found.”

Brunic opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a paper with a gold seal. He scribbled his name on the bottom and handed it to Rhyden.

“What’s this?”

“In spite of concerns about your methods, your help was critical in breaking up this gang, especially being smart and tenacious enough to include Merik Trevain. I’m reinstating you in the special branch of the Guard.” When Rhyden lifted a brow in surprise, the captain added, “I’d rather have you where I know what you’re doing.”

Rhyden gave him a wry grin. “I’m overwhelmed by your confidence in me.”

“Get out of here,” Brunic growled. “See you in the morning with that list.”

Rhyden lost his grin on the way to the Ryndel home. Breaking up Kurzi’s gang would only be a temporary setback for Jermon. Esty seemed to think the leak was inside the Lormarc Guild, and Rhyden couldn’t deny it. If he had to, he’d shut down the Guild or fire everyone and start over. Another stopgap measure, but it might buy additional time. He’d discuss it with Seth as soon as his cousin returned from Cairo.

Meotta Ryndel answered his knock and invited him to step inside. “It’s cold out there today. Any news of Murielle.”

“She’s been found,” he said, stomping the snow off his boots on a doormat.

“What wonderful news! Is she all right?”

“She’ll be fine. We left her with the healers.”

Meotta’s eyes went wide. “Oh, dear. Was she hurt?”

“It’s only for observation. She was exposed to the cold, and it was a pretty harrowing experience. The healers were just being cautious.” He glanced around the empty room. “Is Esty here? I thought she’d want to know too.”

“Oh, she isn’t. I should have told you right away. In fact, she’s late. She promised to be home early.”

Late? Rhyden stilled as a chill ran across his back. Damn the woman. She was supposed to be here. “Where is she?”

“At your guild. She went early this morning to continue her work.”

Looking for the leak—a desperate and dangerous person with Kurzi’s gang unraveling. He spun on his heels.

“What’s wrong?” Meotta called as he left the door standing open.

Rhyden didn’t stop to answer her. A sense of dread drove him on a heedless run over the icy walkway and through the snow-covered streets.

He reached the Lormarc Guild’s front entrance, yanked open the door, and recoiled as the sharp report of a pistol cracked the air.

Esty. Gods no!

Never doubting the gunfire involved her, he ran straight to the makeshift interview room where he’d found her before and tried the door. Locked, dammit. He kicked it in, splintering a hole in the wood with his boot.

He reached inside and ripped open the door. Heart hammering wildly, he took in the scene for a split second…

Esty stood behind the table, a girlie handbag in one hand, a gun in the other, and a look of horror on her face. Olseon lay on the floor, his knees drawn up, both arms covering his head. A dagger lay on the floor.

“Is he dead?” Surprisingly, Esty’s voice was steady.

Rhyden kicked the knife toward the door and pulled one of Olseon’s arms away so he could see his face. “No, he’s alive.” He glared at the Guild Master cowering on the floor, tempted to finish the job. “Don’t move, or I’ll let her try again.”

Olseon nodded wordlessly.

Rhyden strode around the table and crushed Esty in his arms, gun and all. “Esty, my love. My love.” He repeated her name at least twice more as he buried his face in her hair. He heard the gun and handbag hit the floor, and her slender arms came around his waist. Only then did relief finally flood over him, and he kissed her.

Moments later, it sank in a would-be killer was still unsecured, a loaded weapon at his feet, and a very interested audience in the doorway.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted a face he knew. “Grab the knife and get the guards.” He finally released his death grip on Esty and retrieved the Glock, keeping it between them and out of sight. He tucked it in his belt and looked at her. “Kam’s?” When she nodded, he said, “You’ll have to tell me later how you got it into Elvenrude.”

Meanwhile, how did he explain a second gun to Brunic?

“Sir? Rhyden?” one of the portal guards pushed his way through the crowd. “Come quick, sir. Shots have been fired at the New Orleans Guild.”

Holy hell, what now?

Rhyden ordered the guard to remain with Olseon and sent a worker for Brunic. “Tell him this is our leak.” He grabbed Esty’s hand and took her with him. “OK. Tell me now how you got the gun into Elvenrude.”

“Just like you did. We’ve been sneaking things in using the safe since we were kids.”

“That’s a loophole we’ll be closing,” he said grimly. “But today it suits our purpose one more time.” When they reached the portal, he secured the Glock in the safe, stepped inside, and pulled Esty in beside him. They materialized in the Ryndel Guild in Elvenrude, and Rhyden waved to get her father’s attention.

“Hey, you’re not trying to leave me behind again, are you?” she demanded.

“You bet. They’re shooting guns, Esty. You couldn’t even hit Olseon from five feet away.”

Her mouth dropped open. “It wasn’t my fault. The barrel got caught on my bag.”

“Exactly.” When Sawyer arrived, Rhyden shoved Esty into his arms. “Keep your daughter here, and don’t let her say a word to Brunic. Not yet.”

Without waiting for a response, he stepped back into the portal, made the hop to the Lormarc guild in New Orleans, and snatched the Glock from the portal safe.

But the guild was quiet. Well, not exactly quiet, excited workers milled around, but there were no gunshots. He spotted Guild Master Henre near the front doors.

“I heard you were under attack.”

Henre actually smiled. “It’s over. Those CIA guys are really good. See for yourself before they leave.”

Rhyden stuck the Glock in his waistband and followed Henre outside. An ambulance was just pulling away. Noah Crain stood next to two black vans in the parking lot. He was talking with a man in a black T-shirt and combat fatigues; four other men loaded handcuffed Mexicans in one van and an armful of weapons into the other.

“Agent Crain, it looks like I missed the excitement.”

Crain shrugged with a grin. “The cartel showed up—about a dozen of them—and these guys took care of it. Just as I predicted. A couple were shot and one or two got away, but we should catch them at the border.”

“What about the Ryndel guild? Is it still at risk?”

“Not according to them.” Crain jerked his head toward the van. “Lormarc was first because it wasn’t protected by the fence and wharf guards. Ryndel was going to be taken from the other side…wherever that is.”

“Yeah, maybe. It makes some sense.”

Crain smiled at his skeptical tone. “It’s hard to believe anything out of the mouths of thugs. We won’t pull off our teams until we hear from Kam or Seth.”

Rhyden nodded and flexed his tense shoulders as he walked back toward the guild. What a day. They’d knocked off huge parts of this conspiracy—Kurzi’s gang, Jermon’s pipeline, and now the hired killers from the Mexican cartel—but they still didn’t have the men behind it. And Jermon Lormarc had the time, the patience, and the wicked intent to put it all together again.

It was up to Kam and Seth…and the Cyrilian prince now.

But Rhyden’s day wasn’t over. He drew a deep breath and set his jaw. He still had to do something about Esty. He stopped at the guild restroom to splash water on his face and finger-comb his hair. He frowned at himself in the mirror. After a long day on horseback, he wasn’t dressed for a proper visit to a family home or a call on a lady, but he had to get this over with before he changed his mind.

He arrived at the Ryndel home just after the supper hour. Sawyer answered the door, his face immediately concerned when he saw him.

“Rhyden! What’s happened? Have you news from Cairo? Is Kameo all right?”

At the mention of Kam’s name, Esty and her mother hurried in from the kitchen. Esty avoided his gaze. That wasn’t good. Maybe he’d gotten the signals wrong.

“I’m sure she’s fine, sir, but I haven’t heard anything yet. Sorry I was so abrupt earlier, but we had a bit of trouble in New Orleans with Jermon’s Mexican gang. Over now, and, um, I need to speak with Esty.”

“Yes, she told us there’d been gunfire.” Sawyer stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in and tell us about it.”

Rhyden briefly related the confrontation in New Orleans, then single-mindedly returned to his objective. “May I speak with Esty now? In private, sir?”

“Of course.” He looked at his wife. “Meotta, I could use a spot of tea. How about you?”

Esty spoke for the first time, her tone rather icy. “I’m sure Rhyden doesn’t have anything to say that can’t be said in front of everyone. I already told Father.” She lifted her chin. “If you’ve come to scold me, it’s already been done.”

“Scold you?” For a second he looked at her dumbfounded. “Oh, the Olseon thing. That isn’t why I’m here. I came to say…”

Dammit. Why was this so hard? She always seemed to leave him tongue-tied.

“To say what?” Her voice softened, and she peeped up at him from lowered lashes.

“Brat.” Rhyden smiled and focused on her face. “That I love you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do.” He was vaguely aware her parents had discretely withdrawn, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He took her hands in his. “Very much. I realize the timing is bad, and I should have changed clothes… It’s been a hell of a day for both of us. But if I’ve learned anything the last few days, it’s life is too uncertain, and I didn’t want to miss our chance. Could you love me, Esty?”

“Oh, Rhyden, the timing is perfect. I’ve waited months for you to declare yourself. How could you not know I already love you?”

The kiss was sweet and lingering. She fit snugly in his arms, her lips warming his with tenderness and the stirrings of passion. A cleared throat reminded him where they were.

“It’s getting late,” Sawyer said from the kitchen doorway. “Perhaps you’d like a cup of hot tea before you leave.”

Rhyden looked up and grinned. “That I would, sir. I believe we have things to discuss.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A sandstorm hit Cairo just before dusk, blanketing the city in a haze of premature darkness and snarling the normally chaotic traffic. Kam and Seth sheltered inside a tent at the Cairo bazaar. After looking around Tahrir Square, they’d had more than two hours to kill before the museum closed and had walked through the narrow alleyways of the ancient market, an area crammed with colorful shops and tents selling a variety of goods from cheap trinkets to pricey jewelry: souvenirs, silks, Egyptian soaps, delicate glassware. When the worst of the storm passed, they continued to wander among the exotic goods.

Ordinarily Kam would be fascinated. Under the circumstances…she spent her time worrying instead. Her eyes stung from the sand dust. Just another irritant to her frayed nerves. The waiting and the importance of the next twelve hours was getting to her.

They hadn’t seen Trystan and Tad since the confrontation at the hotel. Were Tad’s actions those of a thoughtless, arrogant kid, or had he taken the opportunity to warn Jermon and Dreysel? She couldn’t be sure. Which meant she couldn’t let it go.

And she’d started thinking about the human museum guards. Were their lives expendable? Unavoidable collateral damage? The noise of a fight with Jermon’s gang wouldn’t go unnoticed…even if they were invisible. She hadn’t a doubt Jermon would kill the humans without a second thought. Was there a way to spare them? So far she hadn’t come up with one.

Seth took her hand and squeezed it. “Stop stressing about things you can’t control. Take a look at these blown glass creations and see if there’s something your mother might like.” He pulled her toward the stand with its display of figurines and intricate glass jars.

But Kam’s eye landed on the stand next to it. “In a minute.” She picked up and sniffed one of the small bags of Egyptian medicinal herbs. Chamomile. She tilted her head in thought. Not strong enough, but…

She tugged on Seth’s hand. “We have to hurry. I need to make a purchase, and I hope our spotter has a local drug connection.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes before the museum closed, Kam and her three companions slipped inside under the cover of lingering and departing tourists. Kam’s backpack held the results of a trip to a friendly doctor and a stop at the pharmacy.

They hid in the basement until the museum was quiet, then Kam crept upstairs and kept watch on the two night guards. When the taller man got out the teapot, she leaned over his shoulder and added the contents of a small vial. They’d have a nice long rest tonight.

Half an hour later, both guards were snoozing soundly at the desk near the front door. Seth helped her carry one of the men into an administrative office and laid him on the couch. They poured half the contents of a small liquor bottle from the hotel fridge on his shirt. The men’s guns were hidden under the couch. They left the taller guard snoring at his desk after sprinkling him with the rest of the liquor.

Whew. She waved the fumes away and nodded at Seth. “Jermon might think it odd the guards are sleeping so soundly, but the liquor smell makes it plausible. At least they might survive this way.”

“It also allows us to move around more freely. I’m going upstairs to keep an eye on the airshaft. They may come in the same way we did. If so, I’ll hear them before they’re inside, and we can be ready.”

“What did you think of Tryst’s idea—allowing Jermon to find the statue before confronting him?”

“It may save us a lot of time—as long as they don’t escape with it.”

Kam exaggerated a shiver. “Don’t even say that. You’ll jinx us.”

It was after midnight when Seth came softly down the basement stairs. “They’re here. I heard movement in the airshaft.”

Kam, Trystan, and Tad sprang to their feet. They’d been waiting in the hallway since finishing another fruitless search of the storage room. They followed Seth to the first floor and separated to hide in the museum’s dark shadows. They’d deactivated their rings once the museum was closed and the guards drugged. Active invisibility magic created flickering shadows in the dark that other elves would notice and recognize. They’d agreed to use the rings sparingly, if at all, in lighted areas where the magic’s energy blended with existing light.

It was another few minutes before Kam saw the shadows coming down the long stairs from the balcony to the first floor. The distance was two or three times the ordinary height between floors in order to accommodate the huge statuary.

Four shadows. Good. They were all there. Jermon Lormarc and the three Cyrilians: Dreysel, Andolf, and Seye.

Instead of going to the basement immediately, they stopped on the first floor, and one shadow broke away to check on the guard at the front entrance. He returned to the others, and they headed for the side door.

Clearly they’d done surveillance before their break-in two months ago and knew where the guard stations were. They huddled near the side door, and Kam held her breath. She imagined they were discussing the missing guard. After a minute or two, they flipped the alarm switch off and opened the side door. Five men slipped inside.

Damn. She hadn’t counted on them bringing human conspirators.

While she pondered how this affected the overall plan, the entire group moved into the main hall and the rogue elves materialized. Jermon Lormarc had grown a beard, mostly white, but its pepper-colored strands set him apart from the three pale-haired Cyrilians. Their five swarthy human companions spoke in a heavily accented English that indicated they were members of the Mexican cartel.

“Let’s work quickly while the stupid guard sleeps it off,” Jermon said. “Seye, you stay up here and watch him. Look for the other man. Maybe there’s only one tonight, but I want to be sure. If either is a problem, you know what to do. The rest of you, follow me downstairs. We’ll find this statue and be out of here in less than an hour.”

Oh, yeah? Kam straightened, the mantle of her lieutenant rank falling quickly into place. She nudged Seth and whispered in his ear. “Take Tryst and Tad and hide in the dark end of the storage room so you can see what they’re doing. I’ll take care of things up here.”

He nodded, tagged Trystan and Tad, and they slipped away to get into position ahead of Jermon. Kam retreated to the front entry.

Seye checked on the sleeping guard, and then walked around opening doors and looking inside. It wasn’t long before he located the second guard on the couch. One whiff of the alcohol, and he grinned. He poked the sleeping figure a couple of times and left, pulling the door shut again.

The guard at the front desk snorted in his drugged sleep, and Seye jumped, pulling a knife from his waist sheath. He walked over and stared at the watchman as if he might silence him for good.

Kam tensed. She wouldn’t stand there and witness a murder.

“Hey, Seye. Everything OK? Did you find the other man?” Andolf stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, fine. They must have had some party. He’s passed out on the couch. This disgusting pig is snoring.” He poked the guard’s shoulder with his knife.

“Aw, leave him be. Dreysel wants you to help us. There’s a lot of containers down there.”

“Sure. Why not?” Seye shrugged and glanced around the dimly lit area. “Being up here alone gives me the creeps anyway. Mummies, mummy parts, things that belong to the spirit world. I feel like they’re watching me.”

Kam drew farther into the shadows. The watcher he sensed wasn’t from the spirit world.

Andolf laughed. “Get over it. We got a job to do. Tomorrow this time we’ll be celebrating.”

The two Cyrilians went down the stairs. Kam waited several seconds, then followed, creeping in unnoticed to join Seth in the dark end.

Jermon and his people appeared to be searching the numbers on the containers.

“Here, Senor. I have it.”

“No, you idiot. Not 2023,” Jermon snapped. He cuffed the Mexican on the back of the head, and the man jerked away. “It’s TK97-2123.”

How did they know that? Maybe they’d hacked the museum’s computers, or even more likely, they’d bribed or tortured someone for the information.

An hour passed. Kam’s knees stiffened from crouching, and she stood to relieve the tension. She had little fear of discovery. The renegade band was making quite a racket pushing and pulling and prying open crates without labels to locate the correct one. She finally scooted onto the edge of an empty container to watch. Another hour went by.

“This is it, senor boss,” one of the Mexicans shouted. “I found it. The bonus is mine!”

“Get out of the way.” Jermon shoved him aside. “I want to see for myself.” He checked the numbers, picked up a crowbar, and pried the crate open. Reaching inside, he brought out a large piece wrapped in paper and some kind of special padding. Ripping the coverings away, Jermon grabbed the black statue inside and turned, hoisting it with one hand over his head. “The power will be mine.” His green eyes cast an eerie glow…and his other hand held a 9mm handgun.

Kam’s stomach roiled at the sight, and she reached for her bow. It was time to put a stop to this.

Before she could act, Jermon raked his Mexican crew with rapid fire. Three went down instantly, but one of them returned fire, even as blood poured from his chest. The two left standing dove for cover behind the crates, yelling and scrambling for their own guns. One of them took an arrow in the back shot by Dreysel.

Kam and Seth automatically hit the floor to avoid the ricocheting bullets.

Jermon clutched the statue to his chest and ran out the door with Dreysel and his friends close behind. Kam sprang to her feet to give chase. Seth shot the last elf heading out the door, and Seye fell, an arrow through his thigh. Trystan and Tad tackled the only surviving Mexican.

Kam pounded up the steps, clearing the staircase in time to cut the fugitives off from the front entrance.

“You again!” Jermon finally caught sight of her. “What are you doing here? Somebody shoot her.”

Kam used her magic band’s power to leap over several large standing statues of Egyptian gods and landed in the clear. Without breaking stride, she raced to the far end of the hall, raising her crossbow with an arrow nocked to block any attempt to leave by the side door. Seth, Trystan, and Tad poured into the room with drawn bows, once again barring access to the front entrance. Jermon and the Cyrilian rogues took their only route…upward to the balcony.

Kam cautiously followed, hugging the wall. Going out the airshaft would take Jermon extra time…additional seconds for her and her companions to prevent a catastrophe.

She paused at the top of the steps for the others to join her, ordered Tad to guard the stairs, and the rest of them moved onto the balcony level. They were met by a shower of arrows at the first corner. Dreysel and Andolf were providing cover while Jermon retreated toward the airshaft, stopping occasionally to issue commands.

What they hadn’t met was gunfire.

Kam looked over her shoulder at Seth. “Where’s his gun?”

“On the floor in the basement. The magazine was empty anyway, but he dropped it in favor of hanging onto the statue.”

Fine. They’d do this the elven way.

They split up and began a game of cat and mouse, ranging from room to room among the display cabinets and statuary. Every corner was a source of danger, and arrows might fly from behind or on top of any display. Despite numerous shots taken by both sides, elven speed had saved everyone from serious injury until Seth and Trystan cornered Andolf in a side room. In the standoff that followed, he was shot in the shoulder, captured, and bound.

Jermon continued to work his way toward the hall with the airshaft. Dreysel laid down a continuous cover of arrows that made it nearly impossible for Kam to get ahead of them. Seth and Trystan moved up the opposite side of the room.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned as Tad ducked behind a display. Why wasn’t he guarding the stairs? Suspicion flared. Was he joining his friends, betraying his brother again? She looked for Seth or Trystan to warn them but couldn’t find either one. An arrow whizzed by her head, and she dodged behind a display case to get out of Dreysel’s line of sight.

How could she get around Jermon’s last protector? Unlike the gun, Dreysel’s bow wouldn’t run out of ammunition. Elven quivers were self-replenishing. Just this once she wished it wasn’t so.

There was a lull in the thud of arrows. She took a quick breath and stepped around the corner. Trystan was just ahead of her, moving slowly forward, totally unaware of Dreysel crouched on a display case and nocking another arrow in his bow. An arrow shot from Seth’s last location clipped Dreysel’s bow arm. He yelped, leaped off the case, and disappeared. She heard scuffling sounds, but didn’t know what they meant. No one was currently in sight. Not even Trystan.

Someone swore off to her right. She turned in that direction, thinking it sounded like Seth, then whirled at the light thumping of racing footsteps. Jermon’s figure cut across the room, followed two seconds later by Trystan. A stifled cry of pain came from their direction. She jumped to the top of a statue but still couldn’t see them. She slid down and raced forward, skirting around a statue of Ramses. And skidded to a stop, her bowstring pulled taut.

“Don’t move or I’ll finish him off,” Jermon said. He’d backed up to the balcony rail. The statue sat at his feet. Trystan lay on the floor, his back propped against the wall. He clutched his bow arm where a knife had left a twelve-inch slash that spurted blood—coming way too fast. The knife lay on the floor, but Jermon’s bow was aimed at Trystan’s head.

“Let me stop the bleeding,” she said. “If he dies, you die.”

“You can doctor him all you want when I’m out of here. You better decide fast.”

“Ignore me,” Trystan said. “Don’t let him get away with the statue. Save Cyrilia.”

She barely heard him as her mind raced through the possibilities.

The airshaft was right behind him with a rope dangling from it. An elf—even Jermon’s age—could be up there in a second, maybe two. She might catch him, but by the time she subdued him, Trystan would be dead. She couldn’t do both.

Where was Seth? She edged to her left, giving her a wider view of the room and spotted him at the other end racing toward them. Three, four seconds away.

But Trystan was out of time.

She dropped her bow and sprang to the prince’s side, clamped her hand around his arm to stop the hot, crimson flood, and grabbed her neck scarf.

Trystan stared over her shoulder. His sudden, almost-inhuman cry made her twist her head to look. She gasped in horror as the momentum of Prince Tad’s body leaping through the air carried him, Jermon, and the coveted black statue over the rail.

Seth arrived to make a last second grab for Tad, but it was too late. His loud curse as he slumped against the rail told the story.

Swallowing hard, Kam tied off Trystan’s arm, then ran to the balustrade and looked over. Tad lay crumpled on the museum’s ground-level floor. The statue had shattered into a hundred pieces around him.

Jermon sprawled over a statue of Anubis, his body impaled on the sharp, upright ears of the jackal god of the dead. Anubis’s black obsidian eyes stared straight ahead with apparent indifference.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kam dropped off the balcony and landed next to Tad. She knelt and put her ear against his heart. “He’s alive,” she said. “Tell Trystan his brother is still alive.” There were no visible injuries, except his arm lay at an awkward angle. She patted his cheek lightly. “Tad? Tad, can you hear me?” She was relieved when his eyelashes fluttered. But he didn’t open them. “We’ll get you home. Just lie still for now.”

She contacted her spotter by phone, told him she was calling New Orleans for help and to bring the expected arrivals to the side door. Then she phoned Guild Master Barrott, told him what she needed and to have the healers waiting.

Kam stood, looking uncertainly at Tad. She hated to leave him, but Dreysel wasn’t yet accounted for. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she turned, expecting the worst, but found Seth half-carrying Trystan down the steps. She went to meet them. “Have you seen Dreysel?”

“He’s lying up there with a large lump on his head and flexicuffs on his wrists. I think he’s done fighting for tonight.”

Twenty minutes later, Kam and Seth responded to a tap on the side door and found Rhyden with two healers and four portal guards.

Kam was so surprised to see him, she threw her arms around his neck. “Rhyden! What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you call for help? Hey, careful,” he said. “I don’t fancy fighting a duel with my cousin for poaching on his territory.”

“I promise not to hug you,” Seth said from behind him. “But I’m too glad to see you to give you grief. How did you get the rescue call?”

“I was just heading home from Elvenrude when Barrott contacted Henre. So here I am. The rest is a very long story, and I understand we’re short on time.”

“Very short. It’s already four o’clock here. Cleaning up this mess will take longer than it did to make.”

Kam took charge again, sending two of the portal guards to help the healers get Trystan and Tad to Elvenrude. The other two and her spotter began collecting arrows scattered all over the museum.

“Ignore the damage. We can’t do anything to fix it, and the authorities are going to know something bad happened overnight. But clean up the elven blood. I don’t want any evidence of our involvement. The Mexican bodies stay. It will give them some explanation for this mess. Everyone and everything elven goes with us.”

She turned to Seth and Rhyden. “What should we do with the Mexican prisoner? If we were home, I’d turn him over to Crain, but we can’t take him through the portal. I’m definitely not babysitting him on a long plane ride.”

“Why not leave him here? How much does he know?” Rhyden asked.

“Nothing about us. Probably lots about Jermon and Dreysel. They materialized right in front of the Mexicans tonight.” She pursed her lips. “But there’s no proof. Not even a second witness. So, what’s the worst he can do? Say he’s been working for elves? Or aliens? Most people won’t believe him.”

When the scene had been sanitized of elven presence, Kam took a last walk through. The basement was the worst, especially with four dead bodies. The arrows and elven blood had been removed everywhere. The two night watchmen slept through it all. She checked them one last time to make sure they were both OK. The tall one was still snoring.

She stopped on the main floor directly below the final scene. Jermon’s body had been removed and the Anubis statue wiped clean. She hoped Noah Crain could help her arrange an anonymous cremation. Both Seth and Rhyden were adamant the body not return to Elvenrude.

The shattered pieces of the black statue had been left where they fell. It couldn’t be repaired. She picked up one of the small shards, turned it over in her fingers, and let it fall again. Any power that had resided there vanished with the statue’s destruction.

She met Seth, Rhyden, and the four prisoners near the side door. The Cyrilians seemed spent and resigned; the Mexican bandito looked terrified.

“Just one last thing to do,” she said.

She grabbed the Mexican’s arm, ignored his frightened babbling, and marched him upstairs. Replacing her flexicuffs with handcuffs from the night watchmen, she secured him to the sturdy balcony railing. “That should keep you right here waiting for our friends to wake up.”

* * *

They arrived in New Orleans shortly after 10:00 p.m. local time. Captain Brunic met them with six King’s Guards to take charge of the prisoners. He sent them ahead to Elvenrude’s Security Sanitarium and stayed to obtain the rudiments of the Cairo story.

Brunic jerked his head toward a still figure covered in a blanket. “Is that Jermon?”

“Yes. Look for yourself, if you need to verify it.”

The captain walked over, lifted one corner, and let it drop again. “I’ll let the king know it’s truly over this time. Do you want me to arrange—”

“The body isn’t returning to Elvenrude,” Seth said.

Brunic nodded.

Five minutes later, a black van arrived. Four men came in, spoke briefly with Kam, and carried the body away. No one asked where it was going.

“I guess that about wraps things up on our end.” Drained and suddenly weary, Kam accompanied Seth and Rhyden toward the portal. They’d checked on Trystan and Tad—both were stable—and agreed it was much too late to exchange stories. Their apartments were waiting, and tomorrow there’d be plenty of time for details. She just needed two more pieces. “What about Murielle? And Kurzi?”

“Murielle’s safe. She’s a tough old woman.” Rhyden sighed and glanced at Seth. “Kurzi died in the fight.”

“It almost had to end that way,” Seth said curtly. “Jermon’s genes were tainted.”

Kam frowned. Seth sounded so harsh, still so angry. She turned the conversation to a bright spot. “Tad surprised me by turning out to be one of the good guys.” She shook her head. “Amazing he would risk his life like that to keep Jermon from getting away.”

Seth stopped and stared at her. “He didn’t. He did it to save you, Kam. Jermon was going to shoot you in the back.”

She froze, her mouth dropping open. “I didn’t know.” Shock was swept away by guilt. “But I was so awful to him.”

“When I saw Jermon raise his bow…” Seth took a deep breath and let it out in a tense rush. “I was the length of a room away.”

Seth’s burning anger now made sense.

“Way too many close calls lately,” Rhyden said as they reached the portal. “It changes things…for all of us.” He stepped onto the cross key symbol, ready to depart for his apartment. Just before it whisked him away, he gave Kam a crooked half smile. “By the way, I asked your sister to marry me.”

* * *

Despite her body’s pleas for a leisurely morning, Kam was in Elvenrude at 7:30 a.m. and bouncing on her sister’s bed. “Wake up, sleepyhead. How dare you get promised without warning me?”

Esty bolted upright. “That rat! I wanted to tell you.” But the grin on her face belied any criticism of her soon-to-be-fiancé. “Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can. It was only a matter of time. When’s the formal announcement?”

“Soon.” Esty bounded out of bed and rummaged for clothes. “Mother said we could plan it this morning.” She paused and looked up with shining eyes. “He said ‘I love you’ right in front of our parents.”

“He didn’t!”

The rest of the morning was filled with planning, tea and scones, and interspersed with Esty’s growing vocabulary of Rhyden quotes until Seth and his cousin arrived about eleven o’clock. Rhyden agreed a week from tomorrow would be a great time for the ceremonial announcement. Anything Esty wanted.

Esty suddenly turned to Kam with a hand clapped over her mouth. “Oh, how could I forget? We need to finish your ceremony first.”

“About that…” Kam and Seth smiled at one another. “We have some ideas of our own to discuss with everyone.”

After a lunch of cheese soup and bread and lengthy conversation that ranged from personal plans to the events of the last few days, the foursome finally set out for the Healers’ Temple to check on patients Murielle, Trystan, and Tad.

Murielle was already on her way out the door. Captain Brunic had arranged for a guardsman to see her home in a carriage.

“Everyone has been so kind.” She patted Rhyden’s hand after thanking him effusively. “It almost makes my adventure worthwhile. But I must get on my way. I still have another set of friends to thank.” She gave them a knowing smile.

Since Kam had already heard about the snowstorm and the probable intervention of the snow fairies, she nodded. “May the gods speed you. I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

“I suspect it will be no time at all.”

The guardsman helped her into the carriage, wrapped a blanket securely around her, and Murielle waved as they set off.

“What did she mean by that?” Rhyden asked.

Kam shrugged. “She’s always been a mysterious woman.”

They found Trystan in the infirmary seated beside his brother. Tad was propped in bed with a pillow supporting his back while he ate an orange concoction with a spoon. It must have been good, as he licked his lips for the last taste.

“Haven’t we done this hospital scene before?” Seth asked. “I think it’s even the same cot. So how are you?” He looked at Trystan. “Both of you.”

“I could have gone home last night after they treated my arm,” Trystan said. “But Tad had me worried until about five this morning when he finally woke. Now he thinks he’s ready to leave.” Trystan pointed to their bandages. “Matching arms.”

Only Tad’s had been broken by diving off a balcony to protect her.

“Except for the fracture, a few dozen bruises…and a mild concussion,” Trystan continued, “he came through pretty well.”

“Hard head,” Tad said, tapping his skull with his good hand.

Kam had worried how to approach Tad. How did she thank someone for saving her life when she hadn’t liked them much in the past? And said so.

In the end, it came naturally. She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug and kissed his cheek. “You shouldn’t have risked your life for me, but thank you. I take back every bad word I’ve ever said about you.”

Tad blushed and gave a boyish grin. “Many of them were true.”

“Yeah.” She drew back and returned his grin. “But I didn’t have to keep saying them.”

He chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “I’m glad I did something toward making things right. I wish I could have saved the statue too.” He looked at his brother. “As soon as they let me out of here we’ll start looking again.”

Kam started. She’d actually forgotten about Cyrilia over the last few hours. Before they were distracted by the search for the Egyptian statue, she’d actually wondered if there was another possible solution. She’d talk it over with Seth when she had a chance.

Seth nudged her. “Quit daydreaming. We have an appointment with the king at two o’clock. Given our somewhat shaky recent relationship with him—and Brunic’s displeasure with these two,” he pointed to Rhyden and Esty, “I don’t think we should be late.”

“How much trouble could I be in about the gun?” Esty asked, for perhaps the tenth time.

Rhyden took her hand. “The evidence of your alleged crime is no longer in Elvenrude.”

“Perhaps I can intercede,” Trystan said, standing. “I should go with you. We’re responsible for a large part of the troubles you’ve had.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Seth said. “But you’re welcome to come with us. Perhaps Princess Theanne will be there.”

“Perhaps.” Trystan’s voice was noncommittal.

Tad perked up and threw an interested look at his brother. “So that’s the way the wind blows. Has my brother visited Elvenrude while I was gone?”

“Frequently,” Kam said, smiling at Trystan’s discomfort.

Tad laughed. “Then by all means, run along. By the time you return maybe I’ll have convinced the healers I can get out of here so I can see this princess for myself.”

* * *

The palace halls were strangely quiet, and their boots clicked loudly on the marble corridors. Brunic met them at his office, said the king was waiting, and hadn’t said much since. Kam was uneasy. Something felt strange, off. She frowned at Seth, and he shrugged. Obviously, it wasn’t just her.

Brunic stopped before the closed doors. “Wait here. I’ll see if the king is ready for you. Prince Trystan, come with me. As a visiting monarch, the king would not want you to be kept waiting.”

That too seemed odd to Kam, but Trystan nodded complacently and followed the captain.

“Is something wrong?” Rhyden whispered.

Before anyone could answer him, the oak doors were thrown open and six guards approached in full dress uniforms of black and dark green. The one in the middle stopped in front of Kam. “If you’ll accompany us, Lieutenant Ryndel, Special Officers Seth and Rhyden Lormarc, and Miss Estelle Ryndel, the king awaits.”

What was happening? Kam took a steadying breath, stepped inside the room, and stopped.

At the far end of the king’s audience chambers Seliwyn stood with Theanne on his left and Trystan on his right. To either side of them were Kam’s parents, Harad Lormarc, Seth’s parents, and various other members of both families. Two double rows of King’s Guards stood at attention lining a path to the king.

King Seliwyn motioned for them to approach, and someone cut off a laugh. Seliwyn smiled. “I believe we’ve surprised you. Your king and Elvenrude are deeply indebted to you all.”

After five minutes of going over a whitewashed version of events during the last few weeks and especially the preceding forty-eight hours, His Highness finally got to the point. “In recognition of her achievements, Lieutenant Kameo Ryndel is promoted to Lieutenant First Class. Well done.”

Kam’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she stammered “thank you” when he handed her the gold clasp that made her second in rank only to Captain Brunic. She glanced at her captain…and he winked.

Seliwyn wasn’t finished. He moved down the line. “Special Officers Seth Lormarc and Rhyden Lormarc now carry the rank of Special Lieutenants.” When he’d given the men their new insignias, Seliwyn turned to Esty with a smile and presented her a small box. “Miss Estelle Ryndel as an honored citizen is awarded the Guard’s Medal of Commendation.”

Seliwyn returned to the head of the room, and his smile broadened into a fatherly beam of approval. “Congratulations to all of you.”

Kam blushed at the applause and looked at her companions. The only one who didn’t seem embarrassed was Esty. Figured. Her sister was smiling prettily, which finally made Kam grin.

“Your Majesty, I’m honored. We all are,” Kam added, realizing her friends were still stunned. “None of us expected this.”

“It was well-earned, First Lieutenant.” He looked at Trystan. “I believe you had something to add.”

“Indeed I do.” Trystan’s gaze met hers, then moved on to her companions. “While you’re not officially members of Cyrilia, you have proven yourselves our friends and are always welcome there…wherever we live in future years. As a token of our appreciation, I’m declaring you honorary members of the Cyrilian royal guard.”

When the official ceremony ended, family and friends surrounded the honorees with their own congratulations. Kam struggled to grasp it all until Brunic broke the unreality. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t you forget I still outrank you.”

Kam burst out laughing.

* * *

The following Saturday, most of the same audience—minus the guards but including a fully recovered Prince Tadeous—gathered at the Ryndel home to witness Rhyden and Esty’s promise ceremony. Esty glowed with happiness in a fancy silk top of midnight blue and black jeans, and Kam had never seen Rhyden so sure of himself as he was with Esty at his side.

At the end of dinner, Esty and Rhyden rose and pledged their love with sparkling goblets of redberry wine. Their promises were brief and sincere, vowing to use the next year to prepare themselves for a long life together.

As the guests lifted their glasses in a toast, Kam met Esty’s eyes across the room, and they exchanged a private smile. A perfect beginning. The promise year would be good for them. Time to work out the kinks in their relationship. There’d be no broken promises, and next winter or spring they’d fulfill their oaths to become husband and wife.

Kam slipped away to her room during the extended congratulations.

A few minutes later, she pushed her bedroom door open a crack to peek out. The tables had been cleared and moved aside, ostensibly to allow room for the traditional party and dancing. Rhyden and Esty came to the center of the room, and he clinked a knife against his wineglass until he had everyone’s attention.

“Before we get to the party, Esty and I are pleased to—”

He was interrupted by a tap on the front door, and Murielle entered, slamming it closed against a rush of light snow. “Am I late?” she asked breathlessly.

“Perfect timing.” Rhyden chuckled. “I was about to tell folks what we have planned for the rest of the evening.”

“Very good. Carry on.” Murielle waved a casual hand, and Meotta Ryndel escorted her to the back of the house.

“OK, folks. As I was saying…” Rhyden drew the crowd’s attention back to him. “My cousin Seth and Esty’s sister Kam have had a hard time getting their engagement formalized. They’d postponed it twice before, waiting for a better time, and last time it was rudely interrupted in order to rescue one of tonight’s guests.” He grinned at Tad, and there was scattered laughter. “Well, they’ve decided to not give fate another chance. They’re skipping to the final bonding ceremony…here, this evening…and you’re all invited to attend.”

Surprised laughter, applause, and approval met the announcement. The house lanterns were quickly replaced with large white candles. A harp was uncovered from a silk drape in the corner, and Murielle appeared in a long, white robe carrying a basket of red and white rose petals on her arm. As a wise woman and priestess of Elvenrude, Kam had asked her to bless their union. As the best friend of Kam’s godmother, she would also stand for the continuity of heritage and spirit.

Soft harp music began, and guests sought seats or standing space at the edge of the room. When everyone was quiet, Kam and Seth entered the room, her right hand resting lightly on his arm.

Her heart welled with excitement. She’d wanted to look her best for him, and a last peek in the mirror had told her the shimmering, silver-blue gown and the matching scarf at her throat had been perfect choices. Then he’d met her at the door and taken her breath away by how stunning he looked in his forest green cape over the traditional black pants and black silk shirt.

As they crossed the room, his cape swished against her long skirt. Candlelight picked up the gleam of the silver and emerald clasp she’d finally given him the night before; his engagement gift of silver piercings with blue sapphires glittered on her ears.

Kam glanced at her family and friends, swallowing a lump of emotion. But when they stopped in front of Murielle, they turned to face each other, and she only had eyes for Seth.

He gave her his slow smile that made her heart flutter, lifted her hand, and pressed it to his lips. “Kameo Ryndel, I pledge to love you forever. I want you to be my wife, my mate, my closest friend. Will you accept my bond?”

“I will.” She blinked hard and returned a trembling smile but captured and firmly clasped both of his hands in hers. “Seth Lormarc, I pledge to love you with all my heart and to spend my life devoted to you. Will you accept my bond?”

His green eyes gave her the answer before she heard the words. “I will.”

Esty stepped forward to hold Murielle’s basket. The wise woman covered Kam and Seth’s joined hands with one of hers. With the other, she sprinkled their bowed heads with a handful of rose petals. “May the gods bless you and your home. May the fates grant you a long and loving life. These bonds may not be broken.”

Seth kissed her then, and the room erupted in cheers and good wishes.

It was almost an hour before Kam and Seth cornered Rhyden, Esty, Trystan, and Tad away from the others.

“While we’re breaking with tradition, we’ve decided to borrow a custom from the human world and take a honeymoon,” Seth said.

Kam smiled up at him. “We want to walk on a warm beach in the moonlight. It’s an exotic Pacific island we visited once before…and vowed to return someday.” She turned to include their friends. “We want you to come with us.”

Esty squealed with delight. Trystan and Tad seemed confused.

Rhyden lifted a brow. “You want to share your honeymoon with us?”

“Well, only parts of it,” Seth said dryly. “We have a special reason. If Kam and I have figured things right, our Cyrilian friends will find something of particular interest.”

* * *

Two days later, the six friends walked barefoot across the beach, their toes leaving imprints in the sand. Sunlight sparkled off the water, and the breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers. The sun’s rays warmed Kam’s exposed back. They were dressed for a mid-morning swim, but it wasn’t really a pleasure outing. Two of them were set to explore a cave; the others were backup…in case their conclusions were wrong.

Last night Kam and Seth had related the details of their prior visit to the lava cave, including the life-threatening storm, their unexplained survival, and Kam’s sighting of the young girl. With the king’s permission, they’d also shared the details of the story of the Heart of Ishka with those who didn’t already know it. And they’d told Trystan and Tad what they suspected.

Tad bent down and scooped a shell from the sand. “I’m still not sure how you put it all together.”

“It was the word ishka that first got me to thinking. I looked it up. It means water in old Elfish. Seth and I talked about it and how the twigs in the statue’s hair might actually be seaweed. It seemed to fit, considering our strange experience.” Her voice grew more confident. “I’m sure the water sprite is guarding something. I felt the power in the lava cave, not latent like the destroyed stone in Cairo, but definitely shielded. It could be the missing relic. Seth and I were thrown out of the cave because it wasn’t meant for us.” She looked at the two Cyrilians. “We believe it’s waiting for you.”

“But we barely survived our encounter,” Seth warned. “If we’re wrong…well, we’ll do everything we can to rescue you.”

“We talked it over last night.” Trystan exchanged a look with Tad. “If there’s a chance to save Cyrilia, we have to try.”

Tad splashed his toe in the water. “I’m ready.”

Kam placed her hand on Tad’s arm. “As long as you realize success or failure is mostly up to her.”

Kam and Seth led the Cyrilians to the underwater entrance to the lava tunnel and then returned to sit with Esty and Rhyden on the beach. Kam folded her arms over her knees, digging in the loose sand with her toes.

They chatted about the island, the things to see and do, and their plans for lunch. Although Trystan and Tad were leaving that afternoon—regardless of the outcome of their cave excursion—Esty and Rhyden were staying two more days, taking a break from Elvenrude’s winter. As the minutes lengthened, conversation lagged.

“Do you think they’re all right?” Esty finally asked. “It’s been half an hour. Shouldn’t they be back?”

“Any time now.” Seth lobbed a pebble at a piece of driftwood. “Another ten minutes, and I’m going in to check on them.”

“Hey, what the hell!” Rhyden leaped to his feet, dragging Esty with him, and backed up the beach toward higher ground.

A large wave rushed toward the shore.

The four elves scattered, leaping out of the way as it broke over the rocks behind the beach area. It receded immediately and left Trystan and Tad sitting on the wet sand. Tad clutched a black obsidian statue of a young woman with hair like twisted seaweed.

But Kam’s eyes were on the girl standing waist-deep in the water. Her silvery hair—crowned with a ring of seaweed—cascaded across her shoulders and swirled round her in the blue waves.

“Thank you for ending my long vigil.” The girl’s soft voice was as lyrical as a song. “I have guarded half of the Heart of Ishka too long. It is time for the darkkin and the moon elves to be two halves of one whole, as it was intended. Go forth. Fulfill your destiny.”

“Wait,” Kam said, moving toward her. “Tell us who you are.”

“You know me. I’m a child of the sea.” The water sprite smiled, then turned and dove into the waves.

* * *

Ten days later Kam and Seth returned from their honeymoon, tanned and glowing. One of the first things they did was visit Cyrilia, where bright sunshine and budding trees proved Trystan and Tad were making good progress in harnessing the power of the Ishka stone.

King Radnor died two weeks later but finally at peace, knowing his world would survive him. Trystan was crowned king and continued his close friendship with Elvenrude. The bonds between the two worlds grew strong as they visited and traded back and forth.

Esty had enjoyed her work in New Orleans so much that when Kam gave up her position as the Acquisition’s Agent, Esty asked for the appointment, and it was granted.

Rhyden took charge of a major housecleaning at the Lormarcs’ Elvenrude guild. Not everyone was fired, but those suspected of any complicity with Jermon’s former supporters were warned and moved to less sensitive positions on the farms or in the mines. Merik Trevain was appointed the new Guild Master. If anyone objected, no one said so. The Lormarcs had made it clear they didn’t want to hear about it.

Olseon and the remnants of Kurzi Everins’s gang were tried and convicted of conspiracy against the kingdom. King Seliwyn still couldn’t bring himself to order an execution, especially of those he considered mere underlings to the real culprit. The length of each sentence was indeterminate but eligible for review every ten years. Olseon—and most of the conspirators—could count on a long stay.

Dreysel, Andolf, and Seye faced charges of treason and attempted murder before the Cyrilian assembly. All three were convicted and sentenced to death, as demanded by Cyrilian law. Trystan commuted the penalties to life-long incarceration—saying death was too easy for Dreysel, and the three prisoners were taken to a dungeon far from the royal palace.

With more free time than ever before, Seth and Kam traveled the world, returning to the Smithsonian and the Egyptian Museum, and they completed a few CIA missions for Noah Crain. With Crain’s encouragement, they formed their own security firm, enticed two of the paramilitary leaders who’d defended the guilds to run the agency, and hired a computer tech aka hacker to cut through some of the red tape. Noah Crain continued to be their contact with the government world.

Kam and Seth hadn’t really decided where the next few years might take them. They enjoyed everything they were doing. Eventually they wanted a family—not the dozen Kam’s mother wanted, Esty and Rhyden would have to help with that—but a couple boys or girls or one of each would be perfect. The honeymoon they’d started in the Pacific still hadn’t run its course.

By the following August, Cyrilia had recovered sufficiently to supply abundant foliage and flowers to decorate the palace for the first official visit of Elvenrude’s king to King Trystan’s court. Huge crowds from both elven worlds were expected to witness the momentous event.

Kam and Seth transported to Cyrilia with Rhyden and Esty. They were met at the portal by Caleb, Bria, and baby girl Sarren. The infant’s cherub face and big blue eyes were surrounded by a halo of red curls, flaunting her mixed heritage.

As soon as the initial baby gushing was over, Kam waved an arm toward the sky and surrounding countryside—the sun, the forests coming to life, growing fields stretching to the horizon. It was a different world than she’d first seen. “This is amazing.”

Bria smiled proudly. “Didn’t you tell me a long time ago we needed a miracle?” Bria looked down at her daughter and smiled. “We got two. You helped give us one of them. I never dreamed my world could be so beautiful.”

“We’re still working to make it self-sustaining,” Caleb said. “It will be. But we can talk about the details later. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the main event.”

They joined the others streaming toward the palace. As soon as they stepped out of the forest, Kam stared at the transformation. The palace sparkled, its pure white marble and gold glittering in the sun. King Trystan and Prince Tadeous sat on a raised dais in the courtyard, installed for the occasion to accommodate the large crowd.

In a well-orchestrated procession, a coach pulled by six white horses appeared from the direction of the main portal to and from Elvenrude and slowly made its way through the cheering crowd.

Trystan and Tad stood immediately. When the coach stopped, they descended the steps and personally escorted King Seliwyn and Princess Theanne to seats beside them on the platform.

Kam glanced at her husband, her sister, their friends. The small group around her knew what was coming next and what it would mean to Cyrilia and Elvenrude. But in her heart, it paled to what she already had. She laced her fingers with Seth’s. He squeezed them and gave her the smile that always curled her toes.

King Trystan began to speak. “Today marks the beginning of a new era for Cyrilia. We’re honored to welcome King Seliwyn and his daughter, Princess Theanne.” After thunderous applause, he spoke about the advantages of the two worlds working together for mutual good.

When King Seliwyn spoke next, he thanked Trystan for the warm welcome and added his hopes for future prosperity.

Oh, come on. Just say it.

As if he’d heard her, Seliwyn reached for his daughter’s hand and placed it in Trystan’s. “As final proof of the unity of our elven worlds, I have the pleasure of announcing the coming marriage bonds of Princess Theanne and King Trystan.”

Kam barely heard the last words through the roar of the crowd. Her eyes misted. They made the perfect royal couple. With their union, the Heart of Ishka would be complete.

She turned her head to find Seth watching her. He lifted a finger to trace her mouth, then bent his head to gently kiss the corner. She slipped her arms around him, holding close the promises in his touch, wanting to laugh and cry with the sweetness of the moment.

Filled with almost unbearable tenderness, she rested her head against his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. She’d found the man who completed her heart…and opened her life to all its possibilities.

~ About the Author ~

Ally Shields grew up near the Mississippi River and remains fascinated with the rich cultures which sprang up along its banks.

After a career in law and juvenile justice, she turned to full time writing in 2009, and her first published books, the Guardian Witch series, were set on the cliffs of the upper Mississippi. In her second series, the Elvenrude Trilogy, she has taken her stories south to New Orleans where the Mississippi River empties into the ocean.

When not writing, she loves to travel in the US and abroad. She enjoys talking with readers and can be contacted through her website or social media.

Discover more about Ally Shields here

http://allyshields.com
http://allyshields.com/blog.html
http://facebook.com/AllyShieldsAuthor
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6527209.Ally_Shields
http://twitter.com/ShieldsAlly
http://www.amazon.com/Ally-Shields/e/B009AKNDZU
https://plus.google.com/u/0/100652807699295011703/posts

~ Also by Ally Shields ~

Cross Keys

An Elvenrude Novel

Ally Shields

Conspiracy, murder, and magic…and the death of all they hold dear.

When the first wanderer—a common elf who isn’t authorized to use the portal—is spotted on the streets of New Orleans, the king assigns Kameo Ryndel to assist in the elf’s capture. But before she can intervene, humans with guns shoot the wanderer and steal his body. When Seth Lormarc, an Elite elf from a rival guild, appears at the scene, Kam suspects he is involved.

Seth Lormarc is in New Orleans to find out who was behind the portal breach, and his best lead is the intriguing Kam Ryndel. When he stakes out her apartment and finds her sneaking out in the middle of the night, dressed in black and leaping to the top of the nearest building, he knows there’s something unique about the beautiful elf. That kind of feat requires magic. Ancient magic.

As their paths cross during their investigations, they develop an irresistible attraction, although there’s little time for romance. The portal breach is tied to an illegal smuggling operation that has come to the attention of the human CIA. But the stakes are raised when Kam and Seth discover a band of conspirators and a rebellion deep in Elvenrude that promises nothing except destruction of their world.

Cross Keys: Revelation

Elvenrude Book II

Ally Shields

If everyone keeps secrets, no one will survive…

Six months after the nightmare in Cross Keys, Kam Ryndel is enjoying her freedom in New Orleans and doesn't miss the constraints of Elven society. She's immersed herself in working missions for the CIA, even if it means less time to spend with her boyfriend, Seth. Seth's not so happy about that. Having shouldered the responsibility of his family's obligations, he's losing patience with Kam's lack of commitment to her own—and to him.

Then a guild worker is attacked by an invisible assailant, and everyone suspects another portal breach by rogues from Elvenrude. As Kam and Seth look for answers, a gang-related CIA mission interrupts the investigation, and Kam is taken to a place she never knew existed—beyond the Louisiana bayou.

Angered by Kam's new mission, Seth enlists the help of his cousin Rhyden to solve the mysterious guild-worker attack. Instead of an assailant, they discover reports of ghost sightings all over town. Not that unusual for New Orleans, but these seem…different. In a mission complicated by gangsters, feuds, failing magic, and old enemies—and the uncertain loyalty of the Elven king—Seth learns something even worse. Kam is missing. And he isn't sure if she's alive or dead…

The Guardian Witch series

Awakening the Fire

Guardian Witch Book One

Ally Shields

Arianna Calin has sworn to keep the peace in Riverdale. Most of the Otherworlders prefer to haunt the Olde Town district--partying at vampire strip clubs, dining in elegant supper clubs, and inhabiting the cliffside caverns along the Mississippi. Being a cop is a tough job, but someone's gotta do it, and Ari's got her derringer, a sharp stiletto, and a few handy charms against things that hunt in the night. She's also a fire witch--a pedigree that comes in handy, since her partner's only human.

When a virtual reality drug hits the streets, people start to die, and an elusive pack of werewolves threatens the status quo. Ari and Ryan are drawn into a web of murder and evil that will lead sworn enemies to a confrontation. While the city simmers around them, Ari struggles to prevent an all-out supernatural war…

Fire Within

Guardian Witch Book Two

Ally Shields

A hidden evil stalks the city…

Ari Calin refuses to believe her human friend Eddie murdered a vampire—in spite of his confession. Her human partner Ryan thinks the case is a slam dunk, even though there’s no weapon and no witnesses, but Ari’s not about to let her friend take the rap without finding out more.

When Ari attends a charity event on the arm of a handsome werewolf, she finds someone she never expected to see again—Andreas De Luca, the charismatic vampire she used to date. When their eyes meet across the room, memories come rushing back. His kiss, his touch, a savage death…and a terrifying magical bond. A reconnection is the last thing she wants. Only by staying away and forgetting Andreas can she hope to avoid the Legend of Ramora.

But when vampires keep dying, one thing becomes clear: Riverdale has a serial killer on its hands, and Andreas could be next. Ari begins to fear there’s more to it, though. Something truly evil is stalking the city, waiting to take control…

Burning Both Ends

Guardian Witch Book Three

Ally Shields

Friend or lover. Life or death…

Supernatural cop Ari Calin arrives at the hostile Toronto vampire court with an ultimatum from the Riverdale vampires: Sebastian, Toronto’s vampire prince, must stop his unprovoked attacks—or else. Ari wasn’t expecting a fight—the “or else” was typical vampire grandstanding. But even with vampire Andreas De Luca by her side for a show of strength, things get ugly fast. Toronto’s vampire world is in crisis, and surrounded by enemies, Ari and Andreas find themselves under attack.

That’s when Ari gets the call from the Magic Council ordering her home. Steffan, a good friend and leader of Riverdale's werewolves, has gone missing during top secret negotiations with the US government, and is believed to have been kidnapped—or killed.

Andreas can't abandon the Toronto vampires, and Ari can’t leave him to face impossible odds alone. But neither can she disobey her orders from the Council, or leave her friend Steffan to be tortured and killed. Ari's loyalties pull her in two directions—the closest thing to love she’s ever known on one side, and friendship and duty on the other. If she can stay alive long enough for the choice to matter…

Blood and Fire

Guardian Witch Book Four

Ally Shields

A dead body, black magic, and a vampire enforcer...

Ari thought her biggest problem was deciding if she should move in with her vampire boyfriend, Andreas. That was before they found the dead body at the bottom of the Riverdale cliffs. And before she realized he'd been cursed by black magic.

Just as she begins the murder investigation, the vampire rulers in Europe send an enforcer to make inquiries into the recent defeat of the Toronto vampire prince. While Andreas has taken responsibility for the brutal dictator’s death, there is much about the incident that he and Ari must keep to themselves—secrets the vampire elders would stop at nothing to learn.

With threats of retaliation hanging over their heads, Ari moves into Andreas’s Victorian mansion—for safety’s sake—while the enforcer begins a campaign of terror. Ari is caught between competing dangers and challenges: black magic, a ghost, a missing Native American artifact…not to mention a new roommate…all while trying to stay alive…

Fire Storm

Guardian Witch Book Five

Ally Shields

Sometimes you just need to stay alive to fight another day.

Six months ago Ari moved in with the vampire prince Andreas. They defied the vampire elders in Europe, killed their enforcer, and have waited for retaliation that never came.

Until now.

On a trip to Italy, Andreas is captured by the vampire rulers, the notorious O-Seven, and taken in chains to their stronghold in Germany. Ari goes after him, even though it’s against the orders of her Magic Council. She is fired for her actions, losing her special Guardian powers at a time she needs them most.

But the vampire rulers are not through with her or with those who attempt to help her. They launch attacks in Europe and at home in Riverdale. Ari is forced to fight them on several fronts, and victory grows increasingly uncertain.

Her last chance to rescue Andreas is a daring plan that places her in the hands of the O-Seven and relies on untested witch magic, the final hope for their survival.

Wild Fire

Guardian Witch Book Six

Ally Shields

A vision. A lost talisman. A dangerous journey through time...

A month after their bonding, Ari and Andreas are still adjusting to married life when they learn the hard way that the O-Seven, the terrifying and brutal vampire elders, still have them in their sights. A three million dollar bounty hangs over each of their heads, and there’s no lack of assassins eager to collect.

When the local seer has a terrifying vision of the destruction of Riverdale, it’s up to Ari—as usual—to keep everyone safe. Only this time, an enemy from the past has bound her fire powers, and the city’s string of arsons seems connected.

Daron, the vampire prince in Toronto, has information that two of the vampire elders are on their way to Riverdale. Which can’t be good. Only a risky and unprecedented journey through time can provide the help they need. But that will leave Andreas to face the O-Seven alone...

Eternal Fires

Guardian Witch Book Seven

Ally Shields

It started with the murder of a stranger. Then the crows appeared…

Ari and Andreas know the O-Seven will never leave them alone. Ari is carrying Andreas's mortal child, but the vampire elders are convinced the child will be the first vampire baby and are out to posses it. Or kill it. Either way, Ari and Andreas will do anything to keep their unborn child safe, even if it means Ari has to go into hiding and leave Andreas exposed to the O-Seven alone.

But then the O-Seven call on the Mahmo magic that can turn an elder into a winged killer, and each time Ari runs, they find her again. The only way to protect their child's future is to defeat the O-Seven, once and for all. And to do that, Ari will have to face the elders head-on in their castle stronghold deep in Germany's Black Forest…

Valentines Heat I

Ally Shields, Nessie Strange, Keith Melton, CL Bledsoe

"Heart's Pride" by Ally Shields

Author of The Guardian Witch Series

When their wedding is ruined by a werepanther attack, Katrina is left hospitalized and Blane is just...gone. But when he finally finds his way back to Riverdale, he learns he's not the only one who's been tracking Katrina...

"Lost Soul, Lost Love" by Nessie Strange

The Living Dead World Series

It's Jen MacLellan's first trip back to earth as a new reaper, and Mardi Gras is in full swing. When she happens upon Chip, a partier stuck in a perpetual 1983, Jen decides to help him find the woman he loves so he can move on. Assuming all goes well when he finds her...

"Red Dogs" by Keith Melton

The Zero Dog Mission Series

Mercenary pyromancer Andrea Walker has just saved the world from bloodthirsty hagworms and is late for her Valentine's date with Jake. Until she hears that Jake has already left her house...with her...

"V-Day" by CL Bledsoe

The Necro-Files Series

Daisy and her friends think going to a frat party on Valentine's Day will be a fun, not-at-all-desperate Girls Night Out. What they don't expect is to have Delilah's succubus pheromones accidentally set off the apocalypse...

More Fantasy from Etopia Press

Requiem for the Living

The Reanimation Files Book Two

A. J. Locke

Selene is slowly dying...too bad that’s the least of her problems.

You could say that Selene Vanream has a lot of problems. First there’s the Rot that’s slowly killing her, despite everything Ilyse and Micah are doing to find a way to save her.

Then there’s Andrew, the ghost of her boss who is anchored to the living world. Selene would like to ignore him, but anchored ghosts with unsettled business turn into anchored beasties, so she can’t write him off. The government has sent a team to post up at Affairs of the Dead and keep an eye on her, which includes making sure she plays up to Andrew to keep him from turning.

On top of that, someone is using Selene’s new power to create anchored ghosts for their loved ones to keep around. Not good since the culprit doesn’t have a clue about that whole anchored beastie angle. Now Selene has a criminal to catch while trying to stay out of the hands of government goons who have stripping her reanimation power on their agenda.

When Micah and Ilyse finally find a way to save her, Selene thinks she can cross one bad thing off her list--until she learns the terrible price that must be paid to keep her alive. Full plate doesn’t cover it. Overflowing plate doesn’t cover it. Selene’s plate has damn near exploded.

9mm Blues

Thorn Knights Book One

Keith Melton

Flesh-eating ghouls. A kidnapped child. A knight's honor caught in the crossfire...

Christopher Hill is a knight in the Order of the Thorn—the sacred order of soldiers armed with submachine guns, swords, and magic. Their mission is simple: destroy the ancient, profane evils that prey upon humanity.

But that mission becomes far more complicated when a young boy is kidnapped by flesh-eating ghouls, turning a routine search-and-destroy mission into a nightmare standoff. Barricaded inside a run-down house, the ghouls gain a deadly upper hand, and while the body count rises, Hill finds himself caught in a power struggle within the order that puts his life, and his honor, at risk, and threatens both the mission and the boy Hill has vowed to see home safe, no matter what...

Confessions of a Punk Rocker

Living Dead World Book 0.5

Nessie Strange

The dead should stay dead...

Jack Norris has just lost his best friend—who also happened to be his band's drummer—to a drunk driving accident. As he struggles to deal with the band's uncertain future and his own personal demons, those issues become unimportant. His dead friend has come back. And he's not showing any signs of going away. Questioning his own sanity, Jack finds his life spiraling out of control. But when a new acquaintance not only hooks him up with a drummer, but promises to help get rid of his ghostly stalker, Jack's life does a one-eighty.

Drew MacLellan, the new drummer, is more than just a new set of sticks—he's the brother of the insanely hot Jen MacLellan, who's definitely not Jack's biggest fan. Jen is nothing like the women Jack's dated in the past, but the more he gets to know her, the deeper he falls. The only problem is she's got a boyfriend. Caught between his growing attraction and the desire to do the right thing, Jack does everything he can to keep his distance. But the more he sees of her, the more he realizes he can't. He's determined to win Jen's heart, if only he can figure out how to help his dead friend rest in peace...permanently.

Pure Justice

Liah Penn

Human trafficking. A kidnapped partner. Ina's case just got a whole lot darker

In an uncertain future where the Impures—genetic defectives—are banished to a ghetto territory, Detective Ina Stone and her rookie partner, Sam Fujimoto, constantly fight for survival. But when a murdered Impure is discovered in the projects with only a business card in his pocket, the clues lead them into the shadowy underworld of black market trade and human trafficking. After Sam is kidnapped by the Yakuza crime syndicate, Ina must hide her own defect to go undercover as a human trafficking victim. Accompanied by a Tebori master and a new detective with her own secrets, Ina must find a way to free Sam without exposing his role in the investigation, or getting herself killed in the process.