A faint smile. “Hanged.”
“Much better.” And he meant it.
“The invasion of Sitia will continue as scheduled.”
Valek closed his eyes as a wave of crushing dismay swept through him. Even though he’d killed Owen, he’d failed to stop the war.
“Magicians need to be neutralized,” the Commander said. “The Sitian Council has proven to be ineffective at keeping them in check. It won’t be a bloodbath, Valek. You know that’s not my style. The Sitian people will be well taken care of, just like the Ixian people.”
He wished it was that easy. Valek opened his eyes and met the Commander’s gaze. “It’ll be impossible to target all the magicians.”
“A few will slip through the cracks,” he agreed. “But what I find very telling is that you didn’t ask me how we planned to neutralize the magicians.”
If he’d had more energy, Valek would have cursed.
“The Sitians know we have the Harman sap,” the Commander said, more to himself than Valek. “That’ll complicate things, but I’m confident once we target enough magicians, it will be easier to get them all. At least Owen delivered on his promise to produce an effective substance. He never fully trusted me, so he kept the details secret until recently. I suspect he’d just managed to get it to work.” His cold smile failed to soften his expression. “Excellent timing for me.”
Valek ignored the jab. “What about Rika?”
“She’s been in Sitia, helping the Cartel.”
Ah, that explained those illusion cloaks.
“Don’t worry. She’s on my list to be neutralized by the Harman sap,” the Commander added. “You were the first, by the way.”
“I’m honored.”
A flash of amusement crossed his face before the Commander turned somber. “I’ve missed our conversations.” He stood to leave. “I’m going to need a new assassin and security chief. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Onora.”
Valek had managed to shock the Commander. He gaped at Valek, speechless. First. Time. Ever.
“I forced her to work for the resistance,” Valek said. “She’s not a traitor.”
“I see.”
And the Commander did—he was smart that way. A pang of grief rolled through Valek. Too bad he would have to assassinate the Commander.
27
LEIF
Leif opened his senses and waited for Master Magician Irys Jewelrose to contact him. His team hid in the woods near the back wall of the Featherstone garrison. He reached for Mara’s hand and squeezed, reassuring her. The weak moonlight lit her face with a soft white glow. Strain etched lines of worry in her forehead, but if he’d suggested she remain at the inn, where it was safe, Mara would have growled at him.
The growling was new. And while he longed for the sweet woman he married, Valek’s comments repeated in his mind. Trust. And perhaps with time, some of the sweetness would return.
Nearby, his father cradled the storm orb in his lap. Leif had constructed a null shield around Esau, Mara and the three Councilors—Featherstone, Cowan and Jewelrose. They also crouched in the underbrush. The buzz of insects was the only sound.
Leif glanced at the moon again, estimating its position in the sky. The attack was scheduled for tonight. They needed to launch it at a precise time or risk ruining the resistance’s chances of success. What if Irys didn’t contact him? What if she was compromised?
It didn’t matter. Leif wouldn’t miss the deadline.
He sniffed the air, seeking emotions or any signs that a patrol was close by. Refraining from reaching further, he drew back to avoid alerting the garrison’s magicians that he was outside their walls.
The moon refused to move, or so it seemed to Leif. It clung to that one spot, just to annoy him. He suppressed a sigh and squirmed into a more comfortable position.
Leif, Irys’s voice sounded in his mind. We’re ready.
Cooling relief flowed through him. The soldiers? he asked.
They’re regaining their senses, but a few are stubborn and insist they have to defend against the Commander’s army. They might try to stop you.
Leif checked his tunic. Darts loaded with his sleeping draft had been threaded through the fabric. The rest of his team was similarly armed. Let’s hope by the time they figure out what’s going on, it’ll be too late.
He signaled the Councilors to secure the slingshot. Keep well away from the wall, he told Irys.
Will do. See you on the flip side.
He clamped down on a chuckle.
Once the slingshot was strung between two trees, Leif took the orb from his father. Councilor Featherstone pulled the rubber sling back and angled it. Leif hoped the man’s aim was as accurate as he’d claimed. A few other hopes followed in quick succession: hope that they were far enough back to avoid being flattened by the blast. Hope that no one was killed on the other side. Hope that they reached the main administration building before one of Bruns’s magicians could warn the other garrisons.
Leif shoved all those worries deep inside. He placed the orb in the sling. The others moved deeper into the woods.
He held up a finger, signaling to the Councilor. One. Two fingers. Three.
Featherstone let go. The orb sailed through the air. Moonlight sparked off the glass, and for a heart-stopping moment, Leif thought it would fly over the wall. But then it smashed into the marble. Lightning exploded, blinding him two seconds before a roar slammed into him.