Sea Glass. Maria Snyder V.

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my horses.”

      Protests erupted and pitchforks poked. My body felt like a steak being tenderized. Janco remained unusually quiet. A good or bad sign? I couldn’t tell.

      Peter’s expression had turned from outrage to confusion. “But what about her? The painted mare wouldn’t have let a stranger touch her. It took me three weeks to get her to trust me.

      “My sister. Unfortunately, she was romanced by him.” He pointed at Janco. “She is young and inexperienced. He used her.” He clucked his tongue.

      Outraged, I stepped away from the pitchfork. “We’re not related. He’s lying to you.”

      My guard glanced at Devlen, and I braced for the jab. Devlen gave him a dismissive wave. No holes for now. Yippee for me.

      “I’m sorry,” Peter said, looking from Devlen to me, “I don’t know who to believe.”

      “You will want proof, of course,” Devlen said. “Go ahead, Opal, prove your ridiculous story to Peter.”

      I opened my mouth and closed it. All I had on hand was the message from the Council and it would do more harm than good. The permission papers to travel through and leave Ixia had been collected by the border guards. The only way to convince Peter would be if he verified my story with one of the magicians in the Keep or with Zitora, which would alert the Council to my location. But better to be forced to appear before the Council and locked in the Keep’s cells than be Devlen’s prisoner again.

      Devlen smirked as the silence lengthened. “She has nothing.”

      “Peter can contact Second Magician Zitora Cowan to verify my story,” I said. The stable owner looked suitably awed.

      “Name-dropping. Very impressive,” Devlen said. “And it would take a long time, too. Extra points for creativity.”

      “Do you have any proof?” Peter asked.

      “Of course.” Devlen strode to Janco’s pack and opened it. He turned it upside down and shook out the contents. “Ixian uniform. Ixian coins. Ixian weapons.”

      “It’s a knife,” I said. “Everyone uses a knife.”

      He yanked the blade from its sheath. “Not with Ixian battle symbols etched in the metal.”

      Real fear caressed my spine. Before, the whole situation was preposterous, but now I worried Peter would believe him.

      “If you need more, I can saddle Moonlight. You know Sandseed horses are very particular about who can ride them.”

      Peter nodded.

      “At least confirm my story with Master Cowan, before you do anything,” I pleaded.

      Devlen scoffed. “As if he has the time. How many mares are ready to foal?” he asked Peter.

      “Too many.” The stable owner sighed. “I don’t have time for this, either. I’ll send a message to Robin’s Nest and have the authorities deal with it.”

      “Excellent idea.” Yet Devlen frowned and rubbed his wrists.

      Peter took the bait. “But?”

      “Oh, it is nothing. Since Opal is not of age yet, my father will be summoned. And it is the warming season—a busy time for farmers. He will be furious with us both.”

      “I’m twenty,” I said, but Devlen and Peter shared a yeah-right look. Turning to the stable owner, I appealed to his intelligence. “We don’t even look like we’re related. Please wait.”

      Peter chewed on his lip. “Horses have better sense than people. If he can saddle the black Sandseed horse, he’s telling the truth. Then he can take you home to help your father.” He turned to his manager, “Ox, secure those men. Use their manacles and lock them in the tack room. Bret, go fetch the authorities. You two—” he jabbed a finger at me and Devlen “—get your saddles and come with me.”

      The stable hands moved to obey. Ox kept Janco wrapped tight in the whip.

      I met Janco’s steady gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up,” Janco said before Ox dragged him away.

      With no other options, I grabbed my saddle and followed Peter to the pasture. My situation transformed from bad to worse.

      Moonlight snuffled Devlen’s hair, nudged him for treats and stood to be saddled without being tied to the gate. Yelena had told me Sandseed horses could sense magic. I had hoped Moonlight would balk at Devlen’s soul in Ulrick’s body until I remembered he had explained there was no magic to detect, and only the Soulfinder would know of his deception.

      Peter saddled Quartz, but Devlen placed my saddlebags on Moonlight along with Janco’s sword. Great.

      He thanked the stable owner. “Now we can get home and help my father plow.”

      My panic must have reached my face. Peter touched my shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. Your father’ll be mad, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you in time. Daughters hold a special place in their hearts. I know.”

      I tried to convince him of my honesty, but his stern frown warned me he’d had enough. Quartz felt my fear, but she nuzzled me as if to say, “Snap out of it.” She snorted with impatience. Her desire for action was evident, but I remained on the ground, declaring I would wait for the authorities to arrive.

      Peter glanced at Devlen. “I have rope and leather ties.”

      “No.” The mere thought of being tied to the saddle horrified me. I’d rather be free so I could escape as soon as we were out of sight. I mounted Quartz, feeling dazed over the speed with which my situation had changed.

      Peter handed her reins to Devlen on Moonlight. With a final wave, he clicked and we left at a trot. I waited until the woods obscured the stable, then reached to unbuckle Quartz’s bridle. The bone-jarring gait made it difficult to keep my balance. I almost fell. Not that I would care, falling and running was plan B.

      “What are you doing?” Devlen asked. He stopped the horses.

      “Enjoying the scenery.”

      “You have spent too much time with that annoying Ixian. Sarcasm does not suit you.” He dismounted.

      “And being a doormat does?” I swung my leg over, preparing to slide down and bolt.

      He pulled the sheath with my sais from the saddlebags. “No. You already proved you are not a doormat when you drained me, Tricky and Crafty of our magic. After I recovered from my surprise, I was quite proud of you.”

      “Proud?” Not the feeling I expected.

      “Yes. What you did was ruthless and smart. You did not hesitate. Much better than the whimpering little girl at our first meeting.”

      I bit down on another sarcastic remark. I had been fourteen and a prisoner. He had tortured me—justified whimpering.

      Devlen strode toward me with the sheathed sais. I planned my next move. But instead of pulling the weapons and

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