He spun around. The boy was tall—taller than Evan—and, though he was slender, he looked to be all muscle. His sun-streaked brown hair was mussed, like he’d just climbed out of bed. He still wore his linen sleep shirt, but he’d pulled on breeches underneath, and fastened a sword belt over top.
Though he couldn’t have been much older than Evan, he carried himself like someone who’d been shaped by a lifetime of discipline—chin up, shoulders back. His left hand gripped a pendant that hung from a chain around his neck, his right rested on the hilt of a wicked-looking sword. Light leaked from between his fingers as the pendant reacted to his touch.
He looked like neither a farmer nor an engineer, nor anyone from Kadar’s crew. He was a soldier, and he was gilded with magic—not the purple bruise worn by the empress’s crew, but a clear blue-white blaze much like Evan’s own. Like the empress’s.
“Drop the knife,” the glowing soldier said, his voice low and full of the promise of violence.
Evan looked down. He’d all but forgotten the blade still clutched in his hand. He allowed it to slip through his fingers so that it thudded into the sawdust by his feet. He had a smaller knife in a sheath in his boot, but it was no match for a sword.
Was it possible that this soldier mage had been sent down from the north by the empress? Mages were rare this far south. Evan had seen none in the backwater of Endru, and only a few of the empress’s ruddy minions since he’d arrived in Tarvos. But why would Celestine’s hired henchman settle down and start up a farm while he waited for his quarry to return?
No. It had to be Kadar. Kadar’s tenant, rather.
“And your amulet,” the soldier said. “Toss it over here.”
“Amulet?” Evan shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The boy’s jaw tightened. “That pendant around your neck.”
“That’s not an amulet,” Evan said. “It’s . . . a family heirloom.”
“Right,” the soldier said, drawing the word out like steel against stone. “Whatever it is, toss it here.”
Evan broadened his stance. It had been a bad day, and it was getting worse. He was looking for a fight, and this intruder might give him one. “Go to the Breaker.”
It was as if he’d handed the soldier the excuse he needed. Releasing his hold on his sword, he thrust his hand at Evan, growling something under his breath. A curse? Whatever it was, it sounded like death but felt like the brush of a feather. Evan felt a tingle run through him, and that was all.
The soldier frowned and looked down at his hand, working the fingers as if they might have malfunctioned.
“What’s the matter?” Evan said. “Did you forget to load your finger?”
Before Evan could draw another breath, the soldier had crossed the distance between them, gripped his throat, and slammed him up against the wall. Evan was vaguely aware of the burn on his neck when the stranger ripped the pendant off, the plink of it hitting the wall. His attention was riveted on the pressure of fingers against his windpipe, the black spots sliding across his vision, his desperate need for air.
The boy released the pressure a little, and Evan dragged in a breath. His vision cleared, and he saw that he was nearly nose to nose with the mage, all but drowning in his turbulent eyes.
The soldier’s fingers slid down to Evan’s collarbone, searching, raising gooseflesh all along the way. “What’s this—no collar? You mean the general turned you loose without one?”
Evan swallowed, acutely aware of the heat of the soldier’s touch. “Who’s the general?”
“I’ll ask, you answer,” the soldier said, now releasing icy tendrils of magic through Evan’s skin. “How did you find us?” He spoke Common with a familiar accent that Evan couldn’t place right away. His skin was paler than that of most of the tribes along the Desert Coast, though burnished from time in the sun.
“I don’t know . . . what you’re talking about,” Evan gasped. “I wasn’t trying to find you. If I’d known you were here, I’d have stayed away.”
“Is that why you were creeping through the barn with a dagger in your hand?” Again, the ice poured in. It seemed to run through Evan like rain through a gutter, leaving nothing behind.
Fire and ice, Evan thought. This boy is fire and ice, welded together with pain. He’s wounded, though the evidence is hidden under his skin.
The soldier was losing patience. “Say something!” he growled, giving Evan a bone-rattling shake, then slamming his head against the wall.
“Why the goats?” Evan blurted.
The boy blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?” he said, startled into revealing his blueblood roots. So he was a highborn soldier mage.
“Why the goats?” Evan repeated. “Why would you bring goats to an ambush?”
The soldier shook his head, as if to dislodge the words that didn’t belong. “I didn’t plan on being ambushed,” he said.
“You ambushed me,” Evan said.
“If you trespass on someone’s property, it’s hardly an ambush.”
“You’re the one that’s trespassing,” Evan said. “I’ve been living here for a year.”
“Really.” The soldier mage raised an eyebrow and took a slow, deliberate look around. “It didn’t look lived-in when we arrived.”
“I’ve been away,” Evan said, defensive in spite of himself. “I don’t spend much time here.”
“Obviously.”
“You didn’t see the books?”
“To hell with your bloody books,” the soldier said. “We own this property. We have a deed. Which means that if you’ve been living here, you owe us rent.” Clearly the mage intended to collect in blood.
“Did you buy it from Kadar?” Evan said. “You should know that he’s a thief and a liar, with a sideline in forgery.”
“Who is Kadar?”
“Who are you?”
“Never mind,” the soldier said, slamming shut like a book.
He’s got secrets, just like me, Evan thought, remembering what he’d said before. How did you find us? The revelation hit him like a runaway cart: He’s
