Dawn Study. Maria Snyder V.

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      “Yes.” Food had lost its appeal. Almost dying had a way of rearranging a person’s priorities.

      “I won’t serve a meal that tastes like shoe leather.” She squeezed him. “We’ll have time later. This house has lots of bedrooms, and we’ll probably need to check on the horses sometime this evening.”

      He laughed. “Is ‘check on the horses’ going to be our code?” Leif imagined a house full of kids and a future Leif announcing that Mommy and Daddy needed to “check on the horses” and would be back.

      “You’ve no sense of romance.”

      “That shouldn’t be a surprise.”

      She shooed him away in mock disgust. Smiling, Leif cleaned up and helped her finish cooking dinner. He brought a tray of food outside for his father. After Esau ate, they loaded the wagon and watered the plants.

      “Poor things.” Esau tsked. “Out in the cold. Maybe I should—”

      “No. You’re not sleeping here with them. We’ll be on the road for—” he calculated “—sixteen days, if the weather cooperates. You’ll have plenty of time to coddle the plants. Tonight, you should get cleaned up and have a proper night’s sleep in a bed.”

      But Esau fretted anyway, and Leif offered to put the tarp on that night instead of waiting until the morning. By the time he finished securing the fabric to Esau’s satisfaction, Leif really did have to check on the horses. He sent his father into the house with strict orders to wash up and go to bed, then headed to the barn.

      He breathed in the comforting scent of hay, horses and manure. Rusalka greeted him with a soft nicker. He topped off her water bucket and added grain to her feed. Then he tended to the other two. Fisk had lent them a hardy sorrel quarter horse named Cider for Mara to ride, and who had also been trained to pull a wagon. Leif had traded in his father’s horse for a barrel-chested black draft horse named Kohl. The brute could probably handle the wagon on his own, but, due to the distance, Leif felt better with two.

      Mara arrived just as he finished cleaning Kohl’s hooves.

      “Come to check on the horses?” He leered.

      She ignored him. “I tucked your father into bed, but I had to promise to tug on the fabric over the wagon to ensure it doesn’t come loose.”

      “Sorry.”

      “Why are you apologizing?”

      “’Cause you’re looking at your future. I’m going to turn into an obsessed old man who will demand that each bag of tea I make will have the exact same number of leaves while hair sprouts from my ears seemingly overnight.”

      She cocked her head to the side and stared at his right ear. “And how’s that different than now?”

      He growled. Mara squealed and ran for it. He caught her easily and carried her to the piles of hay. “Time to check on the horses,” he whispered in her ear.

      * * *

      The next morning didn’t go as smoothly as Leif had imagined.

      “No.” Mara crossed her arms, emphasizing her point.

      Leif tried again. “But it’ll be dangerous.”

      “No. Where you go, I go.” She climbed into the wagon and sat next to Esau, picking up the reins. “We’ll avoid populated areas and keep to the back roads. We’ll be fine.”

      “Do you even know—”

      “Leif Liana Zaltana, if you don’t mount Rusalka, I’m going to run you over.”

      Esau covered his mouth but couldn’t quite stop a chuckle. Great. This was just great. Didn’t she know Leif wouldn’t survive if something terrible happened to her? However, her stern expression meant he’d have more luck convincing the Commander to welcome magicians into Ixia.

      Leif bit back a childish retort. Instead, he said “Fine” in a peevish tone, then mounted Rusalka and took point. The wagon team followed him from the farmstead.

      They stayed close to the Sunworth River and kept to the back roads. Making steady progress to the southwest, Leif decided to remain well north of Fulgor and skirt the edge of the Snake Forest until they crossed into Featherstone lands. A solid plan, until it started to rain.

      They’d been traveling about eight days when the skies opened and sheets of rain turned the road into a quagmire, forcing them to go south to access the stone-covered ground of the well-traveled east-to-west route.

      Blending in with the other miserable travelers was the one benefit of being on a popular route. However, the presence of more patrols was the downside. But with the three of them huddled under cloaks and the plants hidden by the tarp, no one paid them much attention.

      Two rainy days later, they were just about past the outer limits of Fulgor when the scent of burnt sugar stung Leif’s nose. Magic. He tightened his grip on the reins but stayed still as the strong aroma swept over him. Rusalka jigged to the side, agitated by the sudden wave of magic. Leif kept his mental barrier firmly in place but was ready to build a null shield if they were attacked by a magician.

      Nothing happened, and the scent disappeared. But just in case, Leif pressed on longer than normal, trying to get as far away from Fulgor as possible before they stopped for the night.

      The next day dawned bright and beautiful. Too bad it didn’t last. Two hours after they set off, Leif spotted a patrol of ten soldiers blocking the road, as if they’d been waiting for them.

      Leif slowed Rusalka and opened his magical senses. When Mara caught up to him, he told her to stop the wagon.

      “I’ll go talk to them. Stay here, but be prepared to jump off the wagon and run into the woods if I give you the signal,” he said.

      “What’s the signal?” she whispered.

      His magic detected the sweet scent of her anxiety. It smelled like molasses. “I scream, ‘Run.’”

      “Clever.”

      “That’s why I’m one of Valek’s go-to guys for spy stuff.”

      She managed a smile. “Just be careful.”

      Leif nodded and spurred Rusalka into a gallop. Ideally this was just a routine road check and he could talk his way past them. When he rode into a fog of black licorice, his magic detecting deceit, he knew they were in trouble.

      Big trouble.

      He spun Rusalka around and drew breath to warn Mara, but the words died in his throat. Another patrol stood behind the wagon. Mara spotted them as well, and the bitter tang of her fear stabbed right through him.

      Ah, hell. He grabbed the hilt of his machete.

      Mara stood up and yelled, “Rusalka, go home.”

      “No!” But the well-trained horse grabbed the bit in her teeth, cut to the right and plunged into the woods at top speed, leaving Mara and his father far behind.

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