The man reached out for her but was thrown several feet through the air. He hit the side of the house with a thud. His wife ran to him, screaming in panic as she pulled him to his feet. Everyone watched the old woman drop to her knees, then onto her face. As soon as she took her last breath, the blue disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  Sábria heard a scrambling behind her and stepped out of the way when four large cats came bounding out the front door and raced past her. Knowing her Goddess, she motioned Geller toward her. “Ursuna. To me. Now.”

  Without question, Geller trotted to where she and Shirin stood in the yard. As soon as she was away, yellow lightning bolts shot from the sky. Several struck the house, causing it to burst into flames. Others landed among the vineyard, sparking fires that began devouring the farm’s crops.

  At Geller’s shouted order, Ailith and Killian brought the terrified husband and wife to where Sábria stood as the Goddess’s avenging angel. The couple cowered before their Arch Priestess, wondering if they’d live to see the end of the day.

  The man stared with wide, frightened eyes at his home, barn, and crops that were burning an unearthly bright shade of yellow. He turned back to Sábria with a shocked, uncomprehending look in his tear-filled eyes. His whispered words were nearly drowned out by the timbers in his roof collapsing into his ruined home. “We wanted to keep the babe. Peyta told you she was the one who sold her. Why are you doing this to us, My Lady?”

  Sábria’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “This is Elyon’s doing, not mine. Your mother said you wanted to keep the baby, not as a daughter, but as free labor. Elyon chose to wrap Peyta in the blue of her revenge because she sold her into slavery. Look at the color of the flames, Wintin.”

  Both Wintin and his wife, Fidelia, turned to stare at the fire consuming what was left of their lives. Fidelia wiped her eyes and nodded, “Yellow, for justice. I know the Colors of Providence, My Lady. I’m….” Guilt and regret were evident in the slump of her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what we did to the child. I’ve been sorry from the day Peyta took her and brought back the gold we used to build this farm.”

  Wintin pulled her closer. “It’s true, My Lady. Fidelia cried herself to sleep that night and many nights since.”

  Sábria took her gaze off the diminutive woman and focused on the man, “And that’s why Elyon has allowed you to live. But this…” Her eyes turned a brilliant shade of blue, and she waved a hand toward the burning house, “…is Elyon’s message to you. This land that you obtained by selling a baby into slavery will never turn a profit again. Without Elyon’s intervention, if you replant, your crops will fail. If you rebuild, your house will fall. This land will serve as a warning to others who contemplate doing what you have done. What savings you have, you’ll use to help women who find themselves with child but have no means of support. You will shout to anyone who will listen that Elyon rules with a benevolent yet vengeful hand. Do this, and perhaps Elyon will allow you to rebuild your lives on another piece of land. But this,” Sábria indicated the burning building and fields, “the lives that you built on the back of that child, is forfeit.”

  With the echo of her prophetic words ringing in the air, Sábria turned and walked to where Terro, Killian, and Ghost had picketed the horses.

  Shirin followed and motioned for Geller to join them, and the Prime, in turn, pointed to Ailith and Killian. “You two, help resaddle th’ horses.”

  Killian hurried to the picket line, but Ailith stayed rooted in place with her gaze locked onto the other-worldly yellow of the flames devouring the home.

  Geller had been around enough shivs to recognize the quick, shallow breaths and the nearly panicked look on Ailith’s face. “Oi, shiv.”

  Ailith was too lost in her own thoughts to hear her Prime.

  Geller stepped close and chucked her hard enough under her chin to get her attention. Ailith’s teeth clacked together, and when she jerked her head around to face her Prime, Geller raised her brows.

  That was when Ailith realized Killian had joined the others. “Oh, sorry, Prime. I…I were pullin’ th’ bellows.”

  When the shiv nervously returned her attention to the yellow flames, the rapidly beating pulse in the young warrior’s neck clued Geller into Ailith’s ongoing distress. Having come from the Trenchian Isles, she understood the fear of people who came from a kingdom where the Gods were basically silent concerning the affairs of men. She grabbed Ailith’s collar in her fist and made her look in her eyes. Through experience, she knew that if she held her gaze steady and conveyed strength and acceptance of the Goddess’s intervention, shivs, and most Blades, were able to regain their composure.

  Like a leaf desperately clinging to its branch in a storm, Ailith stared into Geller’s eyes. She’d known the Goddess was real, but to see her power on full display had shaken her to the core. When her heart and mind moved from frenzied to merely agitated, she pulled in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Th’ horses. Aye, Prime.”

  Geller released her collar and roughly brushed it down flat. As she watched Ailith hurrying to help with the horses, she caught Shirin staring at her, silently asking if all was well. When Geller nodded, Shirin dipped her chin and turned back to saddling her horse.

  CHAPTER 13

  The ride back was a slower affair than when Sábria had first ridden out of the city. In fact, she didn’t remember much of her headlong rush to the farm and was enjoying the quiet countryside and the silence of her companions, who must have realized by now what the altercation was about. Well, at least Ailith and Killian had been close enough to hear and put together the facts from what had been said. As she’d been doing for the past several candlemarks, she turned and looked at Ailith, who still refused to meet her eyes.

  Sighing, Sábria addressed Shirin. “Get Ailith up here, please. And have the rest fall back.”

  Shirin stopped her horse and faced the others while Sábria kept her horse walking at a steady gait. “Ailith. Ride up next to the Arch Priestess. The rest of you give us our privacy.”

  Ailith’s heart leapt into her throat, and she could feel the blood rushing up to color her neck and cheeks.

  The Commander took her place to Sábria’s right and pointed behind Sábria’s back, indicating Ailith should ride up on her left.

  Ailith kicked Adaeyfur into a trot and then pulled him back to a walking pace that matched Shadowfoot’s gait.

  They rode in silence, something that was strange in and of itself where Ailith was concerned. Sábria studied her profile. She’d had shivs afraid of her before. In fact, most shivs were terrified to be around her until they got to know her better over the turns. But Ailith was different. She’d never shown fear around her. Nervousness, yes, but the fear she was sensing was something new altogether. And why wouldn’t she be afraid? She’d had to keep her Arch Priestess from taking off the head of an unarmed woman. And then, after Sábria had thrown her to the ground, Ailith had needed to jump in the way of her blade a second time to save the woman. It was no wonder she refused to look her in the eyes.

  No one had spoken during the ride home, and Sábria had enjoyed the soothing sounds of various species of birds—from the screeching hawk to the raucous caw of the black raven that had chosen to follow them through the trees. Still, as much as she enjoyed the sounds of nature, Sábria missed the nervous babbling she’d come to associate with an uncomfortable Ailith. “What’s the matter, Ailith?”

  The black horse jigged sideways, a sure sign that Ailith’s nerves had ramped up enough that they’d communicated her anxiety to the high-strung beast. Ailith kept her eyes on the road as she mumbled, “Nothin’ Milady.”

  “Nothing? You can’t even look me in the eyes. Are you afraid of me, now?” Sábria’s hands tightened around her reins, not wanting to hear that she’d ruined her relationship with someone she’d come to love and care for.

  Ailith’s head jerked up, and she stared with wide-eyed shock at Sábria. “Fowk, no!” When Shirin’s head jerked around just as fast at Ailith’s response, Ailith quickly amended, “Milady.” Deciding that needed to be all one sentence, she shook her head emphatically and repeated, “Fowk no, Milady.”

  Holding a hand up to forestall Shirin’s rebuke, Sábria stared into Ailith’s eyes. “You’ve never averted your gaze from me before.”

  Ailith’s eyes narrowed as she tried to understand what Sábria had just said, “Never av…avert…I don’t know that word, Milady.”

  “You’ve never avoided looking me in the eyes. Until now.”

  Ailith’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened again. “I’ve never raised me sword against me Arch Priestess before, neither! And I know that made ya mad. I saw it in yer eyes. And I saw how mad ya were at th’ old lady what sold th’ baby, and then th’ blue cloud choked th’ life outta her, and then th’ lightnin’ hit th’ house and—” The words were tumbling out in something bordering on panic.

  “No. Oh, blessed Goddess, no.” With a strangled moan, Sábria pulled the bay to a stop, leapt off, and threw her reins up to Shirin. She pulled Ailith down off her horse and drew her into a hard, desperate embrace.

  Sábria buried her face in Ailith’s hair, and though she tried to hold them in, tears began to fall. Forcing her words past overwhelming guilt and shame made those same words sound strangled and harsh. “Ailith. I meant it when I told Wintin and Fidelia that Peyta’s death and the destruction of the vineyard were Elyon taking revenge on behalf of that baby, not me. I’m sorry I frightened you and….” She pushed back and smoothed Ailith’s bangs out of her face so she could look her in the eyes. “And if you hadn’t stopped me from killing that woman, I don’t think I could have lived with myself. My anger, no, my rage, blinded me, and I lashed out. I was wrong to react the way I did, Child, and I’m so sorry my actions forced you to stop me from doing something you knew was very, very wrong.” She pulled Ailith in closer and anxiously held her breath until she felt Ailith return the embrace.

  “It’s okay, Milady. I’m not scared of ya. Th’ Goddess? Well, maybe a chigger bit, but.…”

  When Ailith stopped mid-sentence, Sábria leaned back and looked at her with concern, “But?”

  “Well, I was wonderin’ what ya thought of horse thievin’.”

  Sábria’s lips disappeared as she worked to keep herself from laughing at the normalcy of Ailith’s response. “You stole the horse?”

  Ailith squinched her eyes shut, “Well, more like borrowed, and I get it if yer fasched I nicked it on me way past, but we can give him back on our way back home, aye?”

  More and more, Sábria was coming to appreciate the hard-headed traits of the Dreyuthan peasants. They could be whipped or frightened one minute and off on an entirely different topic the next. She pulled Ailith into another hug and didn’t realize how hard she was holding on until Ailith wheezed, “I can’t breathe, Milady.”

  They both looked up at Shirin’s unexpected bark of laughter. The Commander held up her hand in apology, obviously fighting to keep a straight face. Sensing it was a losing battle, she turned her horse and rode back to where the others were waiting.

  Sábria wiped the tears from her cheeks and then held Ailith at arm’s length. With affection shining in her eyes, she said, “I’ve always loved that you can make her laugh, Ailith. You’re one of the only ones who can.” She sobered and, in a more serious tone, asked, “Do you forgive me?”

  “Nothin’ to fergive, Milady. It all turned out right in th’ end.” Ailith stepped back when Terrowyn rode up with Ghost walking next to her holding Adaeyfur’s reins.

  “Losin’ yer horse is gettin’ to be a habit, Shiv.”

  “Aye, Senior Guardian. Won’t happen again.”

  After Sábria remounted, Ailith took Adaeyfur’s reins from Ghost. She winked at the skelli, who lifted a shoulder and indicated Terrowyn by shifting her gaze up and tilting her head in the Guardian’s direction. Ailith leaned in and whispered, “She fasched?”

  Ghost’s brows nearly disappeared into her bangs.

  Sighing, Ailith pointed to her back. “Clamber oop.” She lowered her voice even more, “And hold on tight.”

  With a short hop, Ghost clasped her legs around Ailith’s waist and gripped the front of her tunic with fierce determination.

  Terro had just opened her mouth to protest when Ailith used her strong legs to propel them onto Adaeyfur’s muscular back. True to form, the black gelding bunched his hindquarters and leapt forward at an all-out gallop.

  Ghost raised her fist and let go with an expert imitation of the same banshee howl Ailith had yelled the first time the horse had run off with them.

  Since her reins were attached to the bridle at both ends, Ailith dropped them onto her horse’s neck, raised both fists, and whooped a Dreyuthan battle cry. It wasn’t until she looked over her shoulder and saw Terro’s livid face as she raced after them that Ailith grabbed them again and pulled Adaeyfur’s head around until he’d slowed enough for her to pull him to a stop.

  Terro rode up beside them, with the remaining riders joining them soon after. Without saying a word, Terro grabbed Ghost’s tunic between the skelli’s shoulders, hauled her off Adaeyfur’s back, and deposited her behind the saddle of her own blue roan.

  Not waiting to see what Terro had to say, Ailith pulled her horse around and quickly trotted past Sábria, whose blue eyes gave nothing away.

  On the other hand, the Commander glared at her shiv and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, telling Ailith to take her place next to Emlyn at the rear of the group.

  Ailith grinned at her fellow shiv as she trotted back to her. “He don’t like folks jumpin’ on him if there’s nobody holdin’ him still.”

  Emlyn rolled her eyes, wondering if she’d ever come to terms with their differences. She glanced at Ailith’s grin and shook her head. “You’d better not let the Senior Guardian see you smiling after that stunt, Ailith, or you’ll be too sore to ride the rest of the way back to the Temple.”

  That thought sobered Ailith enough that she schooled her features into a look of regret and remorse as Terro inserted her horse in front of them and next to the Prime. Once Terro’s back was to them, Ailith grinned at Emlyn and whispered under her breath. “Thanks fer th’ warnin’.”

  Emlyn shook her head, but Ailith thought she detected a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That was better than she received most days from the taciturn woman, and she settled back to enjoy the rest of their ride.

  CHAPTER 14

  By the time they were riding through the forest, the sun had just begun to peek above the treeline, and it had fully risen when Ailith started to recognize certain trees. The closer they came to where she’d taken the horse, the sweatier her palms became. She had no idea what Cibíans did to horse thieves but trusted that Sábria wouldn’t allow them to throw her into a prison cell while she awaited trial. Sábria and Shirin rode to the front, and Ailith almost let them pass the farm’s fences, but her conscience got the better of her. “Milady.”

  Sábria pulled her bay to a stop. “Is this the farm you borrowed your horse from?”

  “Aye, Milady.”

  The group followed Sábria, who rode down the path toward the main house. They passed a large fenced field and then the barn, which looked bigger and fancier than it had in the moonlight. It was a two-story square building with wooden pens jutting out from a series of double-hung doors on both sides. Curious horses trotted into the pens to greet them as they rode past.

  Adaeyfur pranced with the excitement of seeing his herd mates, and Ailith stroked his neck to settle him enough so they could continue past the barn toward the beautifully crafted log home. Her nerves increased tenfold when she realized it had to be a country home of a wealthy noble. In the darkness, she’d thought she’d been stealing a farm horse from a small cothold. Not that it would have been any less illegal, but a peasant stealing from a peasant was one thing. A peasant stealing from a member of the nobility was another thing altogether.

  An intricately carved door opened as they rode up, and an impeccably dressed servant in red livery stepped out to greet them. Several curved steps rose to the door, and the man stood looking down his nose at them. “May I help you?”

  Shirin moved her horse forward. “Lady Sábria, Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon, to see Lord Durmond.”

  Sábria, who’d forgotten she’d pulled up her hood to conceal her identity from passing riders, pushed the hood off her head to reveal her distinctive, silver-blonde hair.

  The servant immediately descended the steps and bowed low. “May I hold your horse while you dismount, My Lady?”

  Ailith cocked her head, not sure whether she liked the fact that the Commander, and probably Sábria, knew the black gelding’s owner.

  Sábria nodded. “Yes, please.” When the man grasped Shadowfoot’s reins, Sábria swung down from the saddle and waited while he tied them to a ring jutting from the mouth of a brass horse head mounted on a post. The servant motioned her to precede him up the steps, but Sábria shook her head. “We’ll wait out here for Lord Durmond.”

  “Very good, My Lady.” As he turned to go, his gaze landed on Adaeyfur. Although the slight widening of his eyes told Ailith he recognized the horse, he simply turned and, with great decorum, climbed the stairs and disappeared through the door.

  Before long, a white-haired, barrel-chested nobleman wearing tan riding trews and a blue overcoat came hurrying through the door with an elegant young woman close on his heels. The woman’s grey trews had patches sewn on the inside of her knees, something Ailith had seen on Lady Isobel’s friends whenever they went for a ride in the countryside. She wore a blue overcoat that matched her husband’s, with the exception that it tastefully accentuated her curves in all the right places. Her long, blonde hair was expertly braided into a tight bun at the nape of her neck.