“I’ll, um, leave you two alone for some private time before you have to go.” She squeezed Bowen’s arm, purposely avoiding looking at Keane, who was standing near the shoreline with his back to all of them.

  “Is there no way you can forgive him?” Bowen asked as he caught her hand. “Nellie—”

  “I’ve really only just met you, Bowen, so please don’t make me hit you on your wedding day.” Tears burned the back of her throat. Angry tears. Tears she swore she wouldn’t shed. “Clara, I’ll be in my room whenever you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Where Bowen had tried multiple times to convince her to give Keane another chance, Clara had not and stood—or rather sat—silently by as Nellie had ranted and raged and cried out her disappointment and having been deceived. Again.

  God, how much more pathetic could she get? Except now what did she do? She was stuck in this magical world with her sister, her sister’s new husband, and an ex, that husband’s best friend. That wouldn’t make for an awkward Thanksgiving and Christmas at all.

  As she made her way back to her room, she rubbed at the still throbbing welt on her wrist. She’d left that salve Gaius had given her last night, after he’d tended to Keane, in Keane’s room during her quick exodus hours before. Nellie sighed. She didn’t want to bother Gaius again, not for something so minor. She wasn’t ready to face the evidence of what had happened last night with Keane.

  So, she detoured to the library Clara had told her about, to lose herself in the extensive offerings of stories and histories that could keep her occupied for however long she might be stuck here. A little while later, cheers and yells echoing from outside drew her out of her chair and to the window overlooking the drawbridge exit of the Citadel. A hundred or so men, led by Bowen and Keane, headed out on foot while friends and family threw Farrengold flowers at their feet in a gesture of good luck. Nellie tamped down the unease churning inside of her. She didn’t know the details of what was going on, but she knew Clara was scared Bowen might not return.

  Even if Nellie wasn’t worried for Keane, she would have wished them good luck for her sister and she did before returning to her room with an armful of books. Which was where Clara found her a few hours later.

  “Are you done wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself?” Clara leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, peering at Clara in that big-sister way of hers.

  “Nope.” Just to prove it, Nellie stuffed a sweet fruity pastry into her mouth. “Got a ways to go yet.”

  Clara smirked and joined her at the table. “What Keane did sucks.”

  “In a word.” She really didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Bowen agrees he shouldn’t have kept that from you. That your magic allows him to see.”

  “I’d have thought you’d have spent those moments with Bowen having post-hand-fasting sex rather than gossiping about me.”

  “I can do two things at the same time.”

  “Oh, ick.” Nellie shuddered. “Brain eraser, please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay, fine. Maybe it’s time you saw Gaius again about that thing on your wrist.”

  “Yeah.” The pain had grown increasingly worse over the past few hours. “I left that salve in Keane’s room.” She stood up and stretched out the kinks. “Come with me to get it?”

  “Like the room’s haunted or something?”

  “It is in a way.” It was a reminder of all the things she’d let herself dream of having last night. “I know it might not be a big deal to you, but he used me, Clara. The same way Bruce did.”

  “Oh, please. Bruce was a douchebag who never dumped his girlfriend in the first place.”

  Nellie’s eyes went wide as they traversed the corridors and headed for Keane’s room. “You knew?”

  “Amber and I suspected. Keane didn’t set out to lie to you, Nellie. And by the way, did you tell him about Bruce? Did he know why your engagement ended?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t appreciate the doubt that admission brought forth.

  “Huh. Bet it made it difficult for him to figure out a way to explain that you had something that would make his life a little easier. Just saying.” Clara held up her hand as they reached Keane’s door. “Food for thought. So to speak.”

  “Don’t say food.” Nellie was already regretting that sandwich she’d fixed for herself. And the wine. And the…. “What the hell happened here?”

  She stepped into Keane’s room and found his walking staff lying in the middle of the floor, remnants of the orb scattered everywhere. “I don’t understand.” She bent down and picked up a piece that began to glow in her hand. “He can’t see without this. Like at all.” She looked over her shoulder at Clara who shrugged.

  “Maybe he was trying to prove something to himself. Or you.”

  “When you fill out your next resume, make sure you add devil’s advocate to it, will you? As he told me, he was fine before me. He’ll be fine now.” She retrieved the salve and rubbed some on her wrist. It didn’t help. In fact, it burned even worse. “Crap. I guess I’m going to have to go see Gaius after all.”

  “Come on.” Clara wrapped an arm around Nellie’s shoulders and squeezed.

  “Nellie, Clara. Have they left yet?” An exhausted looking Erian rounded the corner, another man close at his heels.

  “A few hours ago, why?” Clara demanded. “Is this him? Is this Trevelyan?”

  “I am.” The younger man stepped around Erian and offered his scarred hand. He wasn’t nearly as strong a presence as Erian was, but he was a sturdy looking man with more battle wounds than an entire battalion. Given he worked with fire demons, she could only imagine the injuries he’d sustained. “I’ve already communicated with those fire demons I’m connected to. They’re willing to aid Keane should he request it. But there’s a catch.”

  “Isn’t there always?” Nellie muttered. “Walk with us. I need to see Gaius.”

  “What’s that on your wrist?” Erian grabbed her arm as she passed.

  “Hey! What is it with you men in this world grabbing me? It’s just a welt from where Elya…what? What’s that look?” She circled a finger in front of Erian’s suddenly pale face. “That’s a weird look.”

  “You did not say Elya marked you.” He glanced at Trevelyan before he covered the welt completely with his hand. “That’s a tracking brand. Dark magic. It allows her and anyone she wants to see what you see. Hear what you hear. Not only that—”

  “What?” Nellie suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. “You mean she’s been spying on me? Following me? Me and….” She gasped. “Keane. If she’s been listening in, she knows their plan.” Nausea rolled in her stomach. “She knows they’re headed to the summit and what route they’re taking.”

  “We have to stop them.” Erian whispered a few unrecognizable words and bent until his forehead brushed his hand.

  Nellie cried out as her hand went ice cold. Her fingers turned blue before returning to normal. When Erian released her, the welt, the mark, was gone. Nellie shook her hand as if to rid herself of tingles and sent sparks flying.

  “Uh-oh. I know what happens next,” Clara said. “Nellie, stop! Stop!”

  “Stop what?” She shook both hands, unable to shake the odd sensation prickling her skin.

  A force of power erupted from within her, exploded out and sent Trevelyan and Erian flying back off their feet. They crashed into wall at the end of the corridor and slid to the ground.

  “Damn it, not again. Put those away!” Clara ordered as she rang the tapestry bell for assistance. Erian and Trevelyan were struggling back to their feet as Nellie stared, disbelieving, at her hands.

  “What was that?” Nellie asked.

  “That was your magic, little sister,” Clara told her as she helped to steady the men. “You didn’t get a chance to say what else Elya’s mark did, Erian.”

  “It suppresses magic.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Now that it’s gone, your powers should fully manifest.”

  “I have powers?” Nellie couldn’t help it. She grinned. “Real magic?”

  “I take it she’s not from around here?” Trevelyan asked.

  Nellie would have responded, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even blink. Because her mind had been taken over by visions of people running for their lives. Screaming. The sounds of swords striking flesh; blood spattering the ground. Armored soldiers leaping out from trees to ambush—

  “It’s a trap.” Nellie whispered as her mind cleared. “And Keane can’t see. No, Clara, I’m not quoting Admiral Akbar. Bowen and Keane are heading right into a trap. The resistance members they were supposed to meet are already dead.” Terror she couldn’t describe washed over her. “Dracha’s men are waiting for them.”

  “What can we do?” Clara demanded.

  “We’ll go,” Erian told them. “We’ll have to take pharentas and neither of you can fly one. You two stay here.”

  “I can fly Sera,” Nellie stated with confidence she didn’t feel. Boy, she hoped her bond with the bird was as strong as she suspected. “Clara will stay.”

  “Bowen told me if anything went wrong I was to evacuate the families to Cosanta Baile.” She nodded as certainty overtook fear in her eyes. “I know what to do. Go. Quick. Bring my husband back.”

  “I will.” Suddenly Nellie understood the promise Keane had made only yesterday to Clara. “But first, Erian?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need a uniform.”

  * * *

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Keane gnashed his teeth and reminded himself Bowen had every reason to be concerned. It had been a long time since he’d gone out without his orb and staff. But he’d spent enough time without them before to get along without them now. At least he hoped so.

  “I’m fine. It’s only a few more miles before we reach the rebellion encampment. And the more you ask me that question, the more the others will worry. So stop.”

  Bowen had taken the lead with Keane, clasping his shoulder for guidance.

  “Look on the bright side.”

  “I can’t see the bright side.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” Bowen stopped suddenly. Keane caught himself before he plowed into him.

  “What is it?”

  “Shhh.” Bowen crouched, and Keane followed suit. He heard the whisper of his men doing the same. “Scatter!” Bowen ordered in as low a voice as he dared before he grabbed Keane’s arm and darted into the trees.

  “I’m beginning to see why Nellie has issues with being grabbed. What is it you heard?” Keane asked as thick leaves and shrubs encased them.

  “I don’t know. But it doesn’t sound right. You tell me. Open up those ears of yours now that your eyes are useless.”

  Keane grimaced. Like he needed a lecture at this point. Bowen had called him every kind of stupid when Keane told him he’d destroyed his staff, but nothing could be done about it now. He did as Bowen suggested. And caught what his friend had heard. Footsteps. Frantic, running footsteps. Multiple feet. Small feet. Heading right for them. “Children,” he whispered. “Or women. Can’t be sure. They’re rounding the hill now. They’re panicked, Bowen. They don’t know where they’re going.”

  Bowen let out a sharp whistle, then another, twice as long.

  As the stumbling footfalls grew closer, Keane braced himself. Seconds later, he heard their cries as his men emerged to encircle them, weapons drawn.

  “Stop!” Bowen yelled and stepped out from the trees, along with Keane. “Wait. Who are you?”

  “Galavar.” The young man’s voice hadn’t yet begun to change. “We were traveling with our fathers from the Keep when we were attacked. We were told to run.”

  “How many of them are there?” Keane asked Bowen.

  “Six,” Bowen replied. “All children. Where were your fathers going?”

  “To the Stones of Cataputalaus.”

  “The summit,” Keane breathed. “They were ambushed.”

  “Let’s hope not all of them. Taranto? Take two men and get these children to Cosanta Baile. Miranda will take care of them.”

  “Sir.” Taranto shuffled about and moved off with the children.

  “We can’t leave them the rebels on their own,” Keane told Bowen. “Even if an alliance is no longer possible, I can’t let them be slaughtered by Dracha’s men.”

  “Neither can I. Double time it. You men, up front. Eyes alert.” Bowen stopped Keane with a hand on his shoulder. “We take the rear. I’m sorry. I can’t let you take the lead.”

  “Understood.” But that didn’t mean Keane wasn’t ready to fight. He drew his sword and fell into step behind his men. “However this ends, we end it with honor. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “There!”

  Nellie had been concentrating so hard on controlling Seraphim she almost missed Erian’s cry from ahead. Only twenty men had been left at the Citadel and with only nine pharentas capable of flight, that meant too many men for too little seating available. Especially since Sera wasn’t about to let anyone other than Nellie into the saddle.

  “It’s like riding a horse, only higher,” she told herself after she’d earned the creature’s permission to mount. Clad in the black leather-like uniform Keane’s soldiers wore, she had to admit, she felt more powerful than normal. She could also feel that newfound magic sizzling through her blood like hot oil.

  Torch light exploded around her in the sky as the Outsiders lit their flames, aiming them at the ground to where dozens of men were engaged in battle. At least that’s what Nellie thought was going on. Silver swords flashed and sparked, men cried out, screamed in pain, in anger, in triumph.

  “Dive!” Erian ordered.

  “Oh, holy crap.” Nellie leaned forward and gripped Sera’s feathers as the creature followed Erian’s lead. The wind rushed hard into Nellie’s face and as they drew closer, she could see Keane’s men more clearly. They were outnumbered by armored soldiers at least two to one, but they were holding their own—barely. “I don’t suppose you breathe fire, do you, Sera?”

  Sera screeched. And when she did, a solitary soldier in the crowd rose up and looked into the sky.

  “Keane.” The instant she said his name, her body warmed. But not for the reasons she might have expected. “What the hell’s happening now?” She released one hand, palm out, as the pressure inside her built to a raging inferno. And exploded straight out of her hand in a blinding white light.

  It struck the ground with enough force to explode, sending soldiers on both sides flying into the air. Smoke caked the air, rocks and debris rained down and Nellie stared in wide-eyed shock as Erian circled around to her side.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know!” But it was building again, the magic, and this time she aimed further out. To where a solitary figure sat on a creature that looked nothing like a horse. “Get them out of there!” She yelled and guided Sera over the battle. “Goddess, guide my hand,” she whispered. As the words left her lips, a sense of control descended and she knew exactly what to do. “Let me down, Sera. There. Beyond the fighting.” There was a clearing—there was always a clearing—just to the right.

  Sera picked up speed, flying faster than Nellie had ever fallen, and skidded to a steep halt just before they hit the ground. Without giving it much thought, Nellie leapt down and, hands out in front of her, aimed directly at the soldier overseeing the attack.

  The fire left her body in one stream, white hot and scorching. She walked through the bodies, blanking her mind to the knowledge that they had been alive and breathing only moments before. She could smell blood and death, but she didn’t cower. Couldn’t cower. Not if she was going to distract this man long enough for Erian to get to Bowen and Keane and the rest of their men to safety.

  She didn’t expect the man to fall back off his saddle. Or for him to call for a retreat. Or for the fire from her hands to die back as the armored soldiers retreated into the darkness. Just for fun, because she could, she knelt and fired one last shot, exploding a boulder to stop any possibility of them returning. “Holy shit, I’m Ironman!”

  Only then did Nellie surrender to the hysterical laughter she’d been holding at bay. Only then did she turn to search the bodies, to find her way back to the path where she’d seen Keane standing only minutes before.

  Where he still stood surrounded by his surviving men and, thankfully, Bowen. Erian, astride his pharenta, glided down to the ground, followed by the others who dismounted and began helping the injured.

  “Keane.” Nellie whispered his name like a prayer as she ran full out, toward him. That he’d lied to her didn’t matter. That he’d tried to use her didn’t matter. Not anymore. Not when she could have lost him. The only man to ever have really seen her. “Keane.” She leapt into his arms and kissed him as the shock formed on his face.

  “Nellie?” His disbelieving voice when he broke away had nearly everyone laughing.

  “Don’t you know when you’re kissing me?” She kissed him again, pressing her hands flat against his cheeks. “This time I got to ride to your rescue. How’d I do?”

  “How’d you—” Keane lowered her to the ground, ran his hands up and down the sides of her body. “What are you wearing?”

  “One of your uniforms. Stop that! We’re in public.” That earned her a hearty laugh as the rest of the men broke off to help the wounded and collect the dead.

  “I don’t know what….” In the torch light, his face went white and he dropped to the ground, gripping his head, the scream of pain ripping out of his throat sending Nellie to her knees.

  She grabbed hold of him, caught her face in his hands. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Had he been hurt in the battle? Had she been too late? “Keane, talk to me. What’s wrong?”