chimed in between spoonfuls of eggs. “It should be easy to do with your lie-detecting mojo.”
A queasy expression pinched Yelena’s face. “He can’t use it unless he has reason to believe they’ve committed a crime. It violates the Magician’s Ethical Code.”
“They follow a code of ethics?” Janco asked in surprise.
“You should know about it,” Yelena said.
“Oh, I know about it. I just figured they all ignored it.”
“Because, according to you, they’re all evil and corrupt?”
“Not all. There are a couple exceptions.” Janco inclined his head, indicating her and Leif. “I assumed they ignored it because it’s what I’d do if I had magic.”
“How do you know you don’t have magic?” Onora asked, speaking for the first time that morning.
“I don’t have magic.” Janco huffed.
“But you can sense it.”
“And you can sense the cold air, but that doesn’t make you a snowman...er...woman.”
As they argued over the definition of a magician, Leif collected the empty plates, stacking them in the sink. The thought of interrogating his family sat heavily in his stomach. Maybe a casual visit would work. But then his certainty of Bavol’s innocence faded. He remembered how Bavol had dodged their questions when he and Yelena had visited. The man had lied to them, but at the time, Leif had thought it was regarding the Council’s knowledge of Yelena’s blocked magic.
After everyone finished eating, Leif followed them to the stables. The sun poked from the horizon. Cold air bit through his tunic. He handed Yelena a pouch full of herbal medicines with instructions on how to use them.
She raised an eyebrow at the unexpected weight.
“Just in case you run into trouble,” he said.
“I’m traveling with two assassins and a master swordsman. How much trouble do you think we’ll get in?”
He gave her a flat look.
“Yeah, okay.” She hefted the pouch. “Feels about right.” Yelena opened it. “Did you include the ginger tea that helps with nausea?”
“There are a few bags. Why? Are you still feeling sick?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” She tucked the medicines in her saddlebag.
The faint scent of licorice swirled around her. His magic mojo—as Janco called it—sensed she was hiding something. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m healthy.”
The sweet smell of truth. “Good. Although you might need that tea after it’s Janco’s turn to cook.”
“I heard that,” Janco called. He swung up into Beach Bunny’s saddle and shot Onora a triumphant expression.
The quiet woman merely ignored Janco’s posturing as she saddled The Madam. Kiki stood head to head with Rusalka, who remained in her stall. Her body language made it quite clear she wanted to go with Kiki and the others. Leif stroked her neck and fed her a peppermint.
Just before the group departed, Leif hugged his sister and made her promise to be careful.
“I will if you will,” Yelena said. “If you discover Owen’s hiding place, don’t go after him with just Devlen for backup. Take Irys and at least another magician with you and about a half-dozen soldiers. Promise?” When he hesitated, she added, “If not for me, then do it for Mara.”
Ah, hell. The thought of upsetting Mara always hurt him deep down. And if anything happened to Devlen, their brother-in-law, she’d be doubly upset. Not to mention how devastated Devlen’s wife, Opal, and his children would be. “All right. All right. I promise.”
“Good. Keep me updated on your progress.”
“I will if you will,” he said.
“It’s a deal.” She mounted Kiki.
Leif turned and met Valek’s gaze. The infamous assassin had been his best man at his wedding, but Leif still didn’t know him all that well. However, he would never question Valek’s desire to keep Yelena safe. As if reading his thoughts, Valek nodded at him before spurring Onyx toward the main gate.
He watched the four of them leave. An unsettled feeling swirled in his stomach. Every time he and Yelena parted, one painful memory from his childhood always darkened his thoughts—the time he’d witnessed Yelena’s kidnapping and done nothing to help. Each time she left him, he relived his shame and guilt. Fourteen years later, she’d returned and eventually forgave him. But though he’d only been a terrified eight-year-old at the time, he could never fully forgive himself. Instead, he’d made an uneasy peace with his actions. And he accepted that every time she left him, he’d worry that he’d never see her again.
“The horses need to be fed,” Devlen said, bringing Leif back to the present.
Devlen mucked out the now-empty stalls. Aside from Rusalka, two other horses remained behind. One for Devlen to use, and the other would be given to the Clever Fox stables as a replacement for The Madam. The unflappable horse was now a member of their herd.
As Leif filled the buckets with grain, Devlen brought fresh water, and together they finished cleaning the rest of the stalls. Valek had invited Devlen to travel with them and eventually join Reema in the Commander’s castle, but he’d declined, claiming he’d be more useful aiding Leif with the investigation.
“What is next?” Devlen asked.
“I need to check on the coals in the hothouse.” And look for signs indicating crossbreeding to determine the purpose of the unknown plants. They had to have a purpose; otherwise, why take up space that could be used to grow more Curare vines? The factory in Lapeer that they’d shut down had the capacity to process twenty times the number of vines that grew in this one house.
Devlen followed him to the glass building. Using a shovel, Leif spread the glowing remains of the coals while Devlen filled the water pans. A puff of smoke stung Leif’s eyes as he added more of the expensive white coals to the fire. They burned hotter and cleaner than the black type. The smell reminded him of Mara and he closed his eyes for a moment to breathe it in. The sugary scent always clung to her clothes after she’d spent the day working in the Keep’s glass shop.
“How does the smoke escape?” Devlen asked. The tall man peered at the ceiling.
“Probably through the seams in the panes.”
Devlen reached up and ran a finger along the wet drops, leaving a clear line in the condensation. “There are small holes in the glass.”
Leif groaned. He’d been so focused on the plants, he hadn’t considered who might have constructed the house. Devlen, too, creased his face in chagrin. He’d worked with Opal in her glass factory in Fulgor for the past six months.
The sisters had taught their husbands that making holes in a pane of glass after it hardened
