Dawn Study. Maria Snyder V.
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gate opened, and Valek headed straight to the castle. His thoughts remained on finishing his work before going to bed. As soon as he entered the castle, he ducked down a little-used corridor. The perks of being in very familiar territory. Valek pulled off the putty and the kitchen uniform, revealing his black skintight sneak suit underneath. While he was tempted to visit his office, he was smart enough to avoid it. Instead, he found a hiding place to wait until the perfect time.
* * *
Near midnight, Valek ghosted through the empty hallways. He had written all the security protocols for the castle. As long as they hadn’t been changed, he would be able to reach his goal without being spotted. It all depended on Owen’s confidence that Valek would never return. Since Owen had easily captured Valek in a null shield and almost killed him the last time they met, the magician had to be feeling pretty confident that Valek would stay far away. And Owen must also believe in Onora’s ability to assassinate Valek, or he wouldn’t have sent her. Add those together, and Valek was literally betting his life that the protocols had not been changed.
He found a window, drew in a deep breath and then climbed out. He clung to the west wall and braced for shouts of discovery or a crossbow bolt shot through his back. When nothing happened, he scaled the wall.
Avoiding all the booby traps on the roof, Valek reached his target. He opened the window and slipped inside. A bright fire burned in the hearth, and the Commander sat in front of it, sipping his brandy. The other seat was empty. A relief. Valek had expected to see Owen lounging in Valek’s chair, and he had a dart filled with Curare just in case.
“Have you come to assassinate me, Valek?” the Commander asked without even glancing in his direction.
Valek approached the Commander but kept his distance. No doubt the man was armed, and his skills with a knife exceeded Valek’s. “No.”
He turned his head, and his golden gaze met Valek’s. “Why not? I signed your order of execution. I sent Onora after you. Well done, by the way. I didn’t think you’d beat her. Pity, though. She had such potential.” He paused as if truly grieving. “You know your only chance to leave this room alive is to kill me. If you can.”
A big if. “I came to talk.”
“Nothing you say to me will change anything.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and a bit resigned. The Commander’s all-black uniform was pristine as always. Two real diamonds on his collar reflected the firelight, sending sparks of yellow onto the walls.
The faint scent of apples laced the air. “I didn’t come to talk to you.”
“You expected Owen to be here? We’re not to that point yet, but he’ll be along soon enough.”
“Magical alarm?”
“In a way.” The Commander tapped his forehead.
“How much time do I have?”
The Commander refused to answer.
Which meant not much. Valek knew the Commander’s physical body was female, but Ambrose had always identified as male and lived as a man since puberty. No one else was privy to this information except Yelena. Her Soulfinding abilities detected that the Commander’s mother’s soul also resided in his body. When Signe had died in childbirth, her magic transferred her soul to her baby. The Commander had trusted Yelena and Valek to keep it a secret.
“I came to talk to your mother,” Valek said.
He shrank back in his chair. “She can’t talk.”
“She can if you let her.”
“I can’t... Owen...” He pressed his fingers into his temples as if enduring a sudden headache.
“Signe’s the reason for the inconsistencies. Why you could send me and Yelena away, despite Owen’s influence on your mind. Owen doesn’t have control of your mother’s soul.”
“Owen thinks he does, but he can’t know...or all is lost.”
“I’ll be quick so he doesn’t find out,” Valek promised.
The transformation of Commander Ambrose into his mother, Signe, would have been startling if Valek hadn’t seen it before. His features didn’t shift, but from one breath to the next, another person peered from his almond-shaped eyes. Even with his bristle-short gray hair, she appeared feminine.
“How did Owen get to Ambrose?” Valek asked her.
“Owen pleaded for his life. He promised my son barrels of Curare for his army in exchange. It appeared to be a standard business deal, but Owen planted a...seed, I think, during that first meeting.”
“A seed?”
“A powerful suggestion in Ambrose’s mind that Owen was to be trusted.”
Ah, hell. That was over four years ago.
“What happened to the null shields in his uniforms?”
“Owen forced Ambrose to lie about them to you so you wouldn’t suspect he was being influenced by the magician.”
Valek considered. “It worked. Plus, I didn’t notice any change in him. Not then.”
“No one did. It was subtle. In fact, Ambrose wouldn’t believe me—he was too focused on getting Curare for his soldiers. Owen kept the connection hidden until he arrived at the castle. By then it was too late.”
“When is Owen planning to take over Sitia?”
“Once the Cartel has control of the Sitian military, it’s a done deal. They are going to assign military districts and generals to the clans.”
“The Sitian people won’t accept that.” Especially Fisk and his people.
“Owen and the Cartel have a way to change their minds.”
“There isn’t enough Theobroma for everyone in Sitia.”
“They don’t need Theobroma. They have something else,” Signe said.
A cold wave of fear swept through him. “What is it?”
“I wish I knew. Owen won’t tell Ambrose what it is. But it doesn’t matter at this point. My son cannot disobey Owen’s commands.”
“But you can?”
“For now. Owen believes I’m trapped, like Ambrose, and we’ve been careful to keep up the ruse.”
Good to know. Valek focused on the problem at hand. “Do you have any idea what it is?”
“All I know is that Owen learned about it from his ancestor, Master Magician Ellis Moon. It was in the magician’s notes.”
Valek muttered a curse. “Does Owen have those notes with him?”
“I don’t think so. He complained that he could only copy the information, despite being a direct descendant. They’re considered vital historical documents and are kept in the Magician’s Keep’s library. He made an odd comment about how the library wouldn’t let him take the files.”
Muted voices reached them through the gap under the door. The doorknob jiggled.
“You need to go,” Signe said.
JANCO
Janco resisted the urge to scratch. No matter what color he dyed his hair, it always caused his scalp to itch something fierce. And the fake ear glued over his scarred one just added to his discomfort. Sweat pooled underneath the putty, driving him crazy. Add in the heat and humidity, and Janco longed for an assignment on the northern ice sheet. At this point, he’d gladly endure frostbite and evade snow cats. Better than dodging deadly Greenblade bees.
The creak of wood and rattle of a harness cut through