Klia and her aide-de-camp and friend, Major Myrhini, were at breakfast in the front room, eating the same rations as the soldiers. Beka’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that the Aurenfaie-her Aurenfaie, as she liked to think of him-was with them as well, lithe and handsome in his worn leathers and corselet.

Even without the sen’gai of his clan, there was no mistaking what Nyal was. He had long, dark hair and fine ’faie features, and his lively hazel-green eyes were unlike any Skalan’s. He was a brave man, to be here in the midst of a war that was not his own. Harshly as the Plenimaran marines treated captured female soldiers, they treated ’faie far worse. Those they didn’t eventually kill they shipped back to their

homeland as slaves. She’d heard stories of ’faie falling on their own swords rather than be captured. It made it all the harder that she and Nyal were often apart from each other in the field; as her husband, it was against regulations for him to serve under her, so instead he was a scout for the whole troop, often working with Danos or directly for Klia. It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him.

He smiled, hazel eyes tilting up at the corners as she came in; she could tell he was equally relieved to see her. Nyal had no official rank beyond scout, but in the field he took his orders directly from Klia. It had taken them both time to get used to that. In the winter they lived as husband and wife, but here in the field they were hardly more than fellow soldiers most of the time.

Beka saluted Klia, pressing her fist to the front of her battle-stained tabard.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Klia. “Come and join us. You must be starving.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Beka pulled up a stool and gratefully broke her night’s fast. Even salted, the meat smelled a bit high, but she was too hungry to care.

Klia looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Months of steady battle had sapped some of her beauty. Her face was sun-browned and haggard under the dark widow’s peak, and her linen shirt hung more loosely on her than it had when they resumed the war in the spring. Myrhini, the older of the two, didn’t look any better. Beka supposed she didn’t, either.

“What do you have to report?” asked Klia.

“I estimate a force of at least three hundred, Commander. Half of it cavalry and the rest foot.”

Klia raised an eyebrow at that. “You estimate? Don’t tell me you went out yourself again?”

“It was my turn, Commander,” Beka replied. It was a matter of pride to endure the same dangers as her troop. In return, her riders had followed her through fire and hell. Klia wasn’t one to talk, either. She’d done the same as she came up through the officers’ ranks, and was equally respected by those who served under her.

Klia took another bite of beef and stared down at the

trampled grass that served as carpet. “We’ve got to take that ford before Phoria arrives. If we can pull this off, the queen’s army can push all the way to the Folcwine in a matter of days. And if we take one of the major fords there-” Her eyes shone at the prospect. “Then we can finally take on the Overlord’s regiment.”

Beka shared her commander’s cautious excitement. For the first time in years, the possibility of victory glimmered before them.

“Can we take the horses through the forest?” asked Myrhini.

“I don’t advise it,” Beka replied. “The trees are thick enough that we’d get strung out and make enough noise for the Plenimarans to hear us coming.”

“If the horses go south along the edge of it, it’s no more than a mile ’til it ends, close to the edge of the enemy camp,” said Nyal.

“Beka, did you get a sense of the layout of their encampment?” asked Myrhini.

“It was hard to tell in the dark, but I think they’ve set out the tents in lines, well away from the trees, roughly in a square.”

Going to the map table, Beka took up a wax tablet and stylus and sketched the camp, with the ruined house and the bank of the Silver River. “They’re caught between the trees and the river, Commander, and the horses are corralled here, on the northern edge. If we can push them to the river, they’ll have no choice but to fan out into a thinner line.”

Klia considered that for a moment, then nodded. “I want you to take your troop through the forest on foot here. Send your Urghazi Turma to scatter the enemy’s horses before the Plenimarans can get to them. I’ll take Captain Anri and Danos’s riders south around the wood, mounted. Nyal, I want you with me.”

“Yes, Commander.” Nyal exchanged a quick look of regret with Beka. Separated again.

“Myrhini, pass the word. We march at once,” Klia ordered. “Beka, Nyal, you’re dismissed.”

Beka gave her a grateful nod; Klia was demanding, but not unkind.

Outside Nyal took her hands in his. “I hope the Plenimarans provide us with a good supper.”

Beka forced a weary smile. Neither of them ever said good-bye or spoke of the very real possibility that each parting could be their last.

It had been easy for them when she was stationed with Klia in Aurenen. Several others in the turma had taken ’faie lovers; there was no rule against it, and in fact it had been encouraged. Half-breed children might carry some of the vigor of ’faie magic-something that was growing thin in Skala. Fewer wizard-born children were presented at the Oreska House every year.

Not that Beka had any desire for children. Not yet. She loved Nyal with all her heart, but she lived to serve Klia. Nyal understood that, and had solved the problem by volunteering to become a scout when they returned to Skala. She’d married the handsome ’faie at her parents’ home at Watermead, then had gone back to soldiering with him in the spring, much to her mother’s disappointment. Her father had understood better. She and Micum shared the same restless spirit. He had Seregil and Alec, and the Watchers; she had the cavalry.

He leaned down and kissed her, not caring if the sentries were watching. “Good hunting, beloved.”

“And to you, my love.”

Beka could feel his gaze on her as she walked away to gather her riders, but resisted the urge to look back.

CHAPTER 4. Alec Gets a Bit of Exercise

DUKE Reltheus-a tall, striking man with silver-streaked hair and dark eyes-kept them fairly busy. Their first night on watch, Seregil scaled the back wall, but the house was too well guarded front and back.

“Looks like we’re going to have to get in by the front door,” he muttered.

“Hopefully our friend Selin can help us with that,” said Alec.

The duke’s house had only one main entrance, easily watched, and he came and went during the day at civilized hours over the next week-several times to the Palace, they noted with interest. He was often out in the evenings, as well-without his wife, Palmani, who was still in the days of her birthing confinement-visiting friends and attending Archduchess Alaya’s salon. Not quite the doting husband and father, he spent several evenings in the Street of Lights gambling houses, with a visit to the brothels here and there. From what they observed, his tastes ran solidly to women, including a fair-haired girl at their friend Eirual’s house.

Dressed as beggars or workmen, Seregil and Alec took shifts shadowing him. It was too risky to ingratiate themselves with any of the servants here in the city where they were known, so they had to content themselves with watching from a distance and awaiting their chance.

Silvermoon Street was the grandest avenue in the city, home to both the royal Palace and the villas of the most

prominent nobles. Alec happened to be on duty in his one-armed beggar’s garb when he saw a carriage leave and caught sight of the duke’s face at the open window. Instead of heading for the Street of Lights, however, the carriage went west.