Almost immediately a high-pitched wail cut through the silence and made the hair on my arms stand on end.

It was the attack alarm.

I spun and ran back to the locker at the base of my bed. Saska’s bracelets and all my weapons were inside, but my clothes weren’t; instead, there was the brown uniform of a Blacklake officer. I guessed mine had been too damaged to repair. I hastily dressed, then clipped on my utilities belt, weapons, and knife.

“Whoa there, young lady,” Treace said as she stepped back into the room. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re under attack—”

“Yes, and our people can handle it. You can come with me to the raid shelter—”

“Sorry, but I can’t.” I grabbed one of the meat patties from the tray she was carrying. “I’ll eat the rest of that later.”

I raised the patty in salute then ran out into the hallway, eating it as I paused to get my bearings. I had no idea how this place was laid out, but to find the curtain wall all I had to do was listen for the sound of fighting—and that was coming from the right.

I spun and ran down the hall, weaving my way through the men, women, and children going in the opposite direction. The doors opened as I approached and I paused again, my gaze sweeping the courtyard ahead. The hospital appeared to be situated against the inner bailey wall, and just in front of a massive but empty moat. Between it and the main curtain wall lay the outer yard, much of which was currently on fire. To my left, there were steps leading up to the barracks, under which lay machinery sheds. To the right, what looked like workhouses, kitchens, and a mess hall. Directly in front of me was the great tower, a massive metal construction that was undoubtedly the command center. If I wanted to join the fight, I’d better head there and ask for a station. To do anything else was not only disrespectful to the Blacklake battalion, but also dangerous.

I spun left and ran for the drawbridge. There were several men stationed near it, ready to draw it up should the outer wall be breached—but it wouldn’t be, surely. While an Adlin’s claws might be able to pierce stone as easily as flesh, the metal used on these walls—like the metal used at Winterborne—was slick and thick, and impervious to anything the Adlin or even the Irkallan might throw at it.

A soft whistling had me looking up. A ball of fire the size of a head was coming straight at me. I threw up my hand, as if to ward off the heat of it, and called on the wind to divert it. She answered surprisingly fast, gusting briefly but fiercely, changing the course of the flaming ball just enough to smash it into the ground several feet away. Fire chased my heels as I raced across the yard and then into the great tower. Surprisingly, there were no guards there. I gripped the metal railing and began to climb, my footsteps echoing in the vast, shadowed space.

From up above, a voice said, “Who goes there?”

“Neve March, Nightwatch officer, seeking permission to join the fight.”

There was a pause, then, “Permission granted to come up.”

Which was not permission to join the fight, but better than being sent packing to the raid shelter. I raced up the remaining two flights and came to a large landing area. Several heavily armed men were on watch here; only one of them acknowledged me.

“This way.”

He pressed his hand against a nearby print reader and the heavily armored door to his right slid open. I stepped through and paused. The room was a long oblong shape that had two levels and contained not only a full complement of communicators, but computers, scanners—which were full screens rather than the basic light units used in sprinters and haulers—as well as other military personnel doing who knows what.

My gaze was immediately drawn to the grated windows that ran the length of the room. Beyond the curtain wall below us, spotlighted not only by the powerful search beams that dotted the wall but also the bonfires they were using to ignite their projectiles, were the Adlin. There were at least five sleuths out there, and that was very unusual. Winterborne certainly hadn’t seen those sorts of numbers for years.

I tore my gaze away and looked around until I spotted Blacklake’s prime. He was standing behind a series of scanners on the top level and talking into an earwig. I walked over and waited.

He glanced at me, held up a finger, and continued issuing orders. I watched what was going on in the room, fascinated. It was a rare glimpse into the other side of a battle.

After several minutes, he hit the earwig to end communications then looked at me. “What the hell are you doing here, March?”

“I’m trained to fight, Commander. Put me to use.”

“We have this under control.” His gaze swept me briefly. “And Mace would have my nuts if I let you out on the wall without his clearance.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I haven’t got it?”

A smile tugged one corner of his lips but before he could reply, a communicator stationed at a bank of computers—which detailed the position of the six soldiers in her contact group—the next level down said, “Just got the go from station one, Commander.”

“Is two ready?”

Another communicator said, “Yes.”

“On my mark, then.” He paused and studied the row of sensor screens in front of him. Each one not only represented a different section of Blacklake, but also an overlaying chart of the earth’s crisscrossing energy lines. The Adlin were green blobs that moved from one intersection point to another, their numbers indicated by the size of those blobs. The commander waited until all the green blobs had drawn close to the wall and then said, “One and two, go.”

The order was swiftly repeated, and silence fell. The commander leaned forward, his expression intent as he stared out the windows. I stepped closer, wondering what was about to happen.

Most of the Adlin were clustered inside the dry moat bed that ringed the curtain wall; some of them flung crude projectiles at the walls to protect those who hauled long siege ladders into place. The Blacklake soldiers fired at those nearing the top of the ladders, but not, I thought with a frown, with any great zeal.

A soft rumbling invaded the silence and the heavy stones under my feet started to vibrate. The force of it sang through me, and though its voice was muted, I knew what it meant.

The earth had just been called into the fight.

The rumbling grew louder, stronger, and, out in the night, beyond the empty moat, the earth began to twist and shake and split. Fire spilled from its pits, only to be swallowed whole. The rudimentary trebuchets soon met the same fate.

The Adlin roared and threw themselves at the walls with greater intensity. The earth’s writhing eased, but a different kind of rumbling began to grow. In the stark brightness of the spotlight stationed on the far right edge of the curtain wall, I spotted a foaming, glittering rush of water that was at least two-meters high. The Adlin saw it at the same time and began to run, but the water was far faster. It hit them, swallowed them, and swept them away to freedom only knew where.

A fierce cheer went up from those stationed on the wall and inside the command center, and everyone began to talk and relax.

“That,” I said to the man standing beside me, “was a rather awesome display of power.”

He pushed away from the sensor screens and glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve surely seen the earth respond in such a manner at Winterborne.”

“Yes, but not water.” I paused, glancing at the window again. The tide had once again become a trickle, but the few Adlin who were not caught by the first rush were on the run. “You have the Black River dammed?”

“It runs across our western flank, so it is easy enough to do. Ruma, you want to take over operations? Contact me if there’re any problems.”

A strong-looking black woman glanced up and said, “Will do, Commander.”

His gaze came back to mine and, in a clipped voice, he said, “Follow me.”

He brushed past me, and that troublesome, achy awareness stirred again. I frowned as I followed him down the metal stairs, our footsteps echoing in time through the shadows. I wished there was someone I could talk to, someone who might know what was going on, but I dared not ask. Dared not reveal the secret I’d been carrying since I’d come of age. To do that would be the end of my life as a Nightwatch officer—the end of everything I knew, and everything I held dear. If my ability to talk to the wind—however minor—was revealed, they’d either place me into one of the ruling houses, where I would serve as a “battery” to those of greater power, or I’d be taken as a mistress by one of the men in the hope that I would bear a child of greater ability. For someone stained as badly as me, there was little other option. Not unless I wanted to run and live life somewhere beyond the reach of the ruling Forum. And there weren’t many such places in Gallion or even Salysis these days.

The commander strode across the outer courtyard, briefly acknowledging those who were containing the fires still burning across the stones. The guards at the inner drawbridge nodded as he passed but there was no saluting or formal snap to attention. Unlike the primes at some of the other outposts, Trey Stone didn’t appear to stand on ceremony.

As we passed through the heavily fortified inner gatehouse, the raid alarm sounded again, this time in three short, sharp bursts.

“That’s the all clear,” the commander said over his shoulder. “It tells those in the shelters it’s safe to emerge.”

I caught up to him. “Do all the outposts have such shelters?”

“All those who have a civilian population, yes.” He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Why the surprise? You have them in the outer bailey at Winterborne, do you not?”

“Yes, but as far as I’m aware, we haven’t needed to use them since the war.” I paused, briefly taking in the surrounding buildings and wondering where we were headed. “Was tonight’s attack usual for this area?”

“No, it was not.”

There was something in his voice that had my gaze snapping back to him. “In what way was it different?”

“They’ve never attacked in such numbers before, nor have they ever used assault weapons, however rudimentary they might have been.” He paused and nodded at the soldier who opened the door to a long, three-story stone and metal-clad building. “They were after something. Or someone.”

“Saska.” I blew out a breath. “But why?”

“I have no idea.”

The room we entered was a vast space filled with tables, chairs, and cushioned areas for lounging. Bright tapestries lined the walls and a huge fire dominated the far end of the long room. It seemed nothing more than an old-fashioned great hall built along the lines of castles of old, but a closer look revealed the presence of light switches and power connections. It might have been an outpost, but those living and working here were not expected to go without their creature comforts.

We didn’t stop in the hall, however, but continued past the great fire to a staircase all but hidden behind it. Two flights up we reached the antechamber for what I presumed was his private suite. And the fact we’d come here sent all sorts of alarms through me—but not because I thought he intended, in any way, to make a sexual overture.

Two comfortable-looking chairs sat in front of a smaller, but no less warm, open fire. He sat down and motioned me toward the other.

I hesitated. “I’d rather stand, Commander.”

“Yes, I know you would, but this is an informal chat rather than a formal one. So sit.”

As I reluctantly did so, he pressed a button on the table next to his chair. A few seconds later, a woman appeared. She was comely and young, with blonde hair and blue eyes—and wanted to be far more than just a handmaiden if the look she gave the commander was anything to go by.

“Mari, two glasses of red, please.”

She curtseyed and disappeared before I could protest. “What is going on, Commander? What do you want of me?”

“What do I want?” He pressed his fingers together and considered me. “The truth would be a good start.”

“The truth of what?”

“Of what really happened out there.”

I frowned. “I told the truth in the troop carrier. I’m not sure what else you want.”

“I want to know why those Adlin were so bloody determined to capture one or both of you.”

I half smiled. “I bear the scars of their determination to kill, Commander. It’s certainly not me they’re after.”

“Perhaps.”

It was the second time a man of power had said that, and it sat as uneasily with me this time as it had the first. I leaned forward and splayed my fingers wide to capture the fire’s heat, although I was far from cold. That heat came not just from the discomfort of questions I could not—dare not—answer, but from a fierce, raw wash of energy emanating from the man sitting entirely too close. It was both earthy and sexual, and it ensnared my senses and made them hunger.

I made a vague attempt to shake such thoughts and desires from my mind and said, “The questions that should be asked here is, how did a woman who has been missing for twelve years come to be alone and lost in the Tenterra wasteland? And why was she in possession of an Adlin beacon?”

“Oh, they’re questions that will undoubtedly be asked, and by more than me and you.” He crossed his legs, the movement casual and elegant. “But I very much suspect that there are other questions only you can answer.”

“Such as?”

Mari returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine. She poured us both a drink then said, “Is there anything else, my lord?”

“Not tonight, Mari. Thank you.”

She bowed and disappeared, but not before I’d caught the brief flash of annoyance she cast my way. My guess about her desires had been right.

I swirled the red around in the glass. It was rich in color and full in body, and teased my nostrils with the smell of blueberries and violets. But it could not overpower the raw scent of masculinity coming from the man in the other chair.

Whatever this awareness was, I wanted it gone. Quickly.

He was watching me, I knew, but not really in the way of a man who was attracted to a woman. It was more like hunter and prey. He wanted something from me, but that something wasn’t sex. I took a sip of wine and tried to ignore both my hyper-awareness of him and the growing uneasiness. The silence ran on. And on.

Whatever his reasons for me being here, he wasn’t in a hurry to reveal them.

“This wine,” I said eventually, “is far better than anything they serve at the base canteen.”

He snorted. “It should be, given the price the merchants charge for the stuff. Tell me about that earth shelter, March.”

“Neve,” I said automatically, and then cursed inwardly. I didn’t need to be on intimate terms with this man, not even when it came to something as simple as being on a first-name basis. “And there’s really nothing much to tell.”

“Lady Saska is a woman of some power, but even the most powerful air witch alive has no authority over the earth. The wind couldn’t have dug that trench and cave for her.”

My gaze met his. “So Lord Kiro said. That does not alter the fact of what happened.”

“Lord Kiro happens to believe you are not telling the truth.”

And he would be right. I raised an eyebrow and hoped the inner agitation didn’t show. “And what lies does he think I’m telling?”

“He, like me, believes that it was you who dug the trench.”

I raised the wine to my lips and somehow resisted the urge to gulp it down and ask for more. I sipped it, licked the sweetness from my lips, and then said, “So he thinks I somehow snatched the ability to control the earth from some hereto unseen and unknown place that harbors such magic, and used it to save us?”

Amusement touched his expression, and it softened his aristocratic features. While he couldn’t be classified as captivatingly handsome—as so many of those in the ruling houses were—there was still something about this man’s features that drew the eye.

“There are no places of wild magic left in this misbegotten land,” he said. “So no, he does not think that.”

“He’s foolish to think anything else,” I replied bluntly. “I’m unlit, Commander, and that can never change.”

He drank some wine, the green of his gaze filled with shadows and questions. “The auditors have been known to get it wrong.”

My smile held little in the way of amusement. “But I’m also stained. Have you ever known—ever heard—of one such as I possessing such power?”

His gaze drifted to the stain on my cheek. I half expected a slither of distaste to appear, but again, he surprised me.

“No. Not the ability to command interaction between earth and air, at any rate.”

“Then I don’t know what else to say, Commander. I can only repeat the truth of what happened, and if that is not believed then—” I stopped and shrugged.

“Lord Kiro is arranging for Lady Saska to be re-audited once she’s back at Winterborne and recovered. I expect we’ll have our answers then.”

Those answers, I knew, would only lead to more questions—questions that would involve my part in doing the impossible. But even if the auditors were assigned to me and did detect the sliver of magic I now possessed, it wouldn’t provide them with answers. Although I had to wonder, if an air witch had no power or control over the earth itself, why had I been able to do just that? It was certainly the air I’d called for help, not the earth.

“I hope so, Commander.” I drained the rest of the wine, placed the glass on the small table between our chairs, and then rose. “If that’s all, I should return to the hospital ward.”

“Yes, I think perhaps you should.” He pressed a second button and then stood.

Though there was still a good five feet between us, something flared. Something that was once again earthy and base, sexual and yet not. It echoed not only through me, but the rough stone under my feet. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and it left me both breathless and frightened. Because whatever it was, it was not only powerful but also very dangerous.

And he felt it, even if it was only evident by the slight narrowing of his eyes.

I took a step back but the movement didn’t shatter the power of whatever that surge was.

“Rogers?” he said, his gaze not wavering from mine. “Can you escort March back to the hospital, please?”

“That’s not necessary—”

“I disagree.” His voice was mild even if his gaze was still too watchful, too wary. “And a guard will be placed on your door should you decide to go wandering again without clearance.”

“I’m not dangerous—”

“Oh, I think you are, Neve March.” The small smile that briefly tugged his lips did little to ease the darkness in his eyes. “Few others could do what you have done. Few others could even survive it.”

He wasn’t, I suspected, talking so much about our escape from the Adlin, but the means by which we’d done it. Trouble had indeed stepped into my path the minute I’d decided to meld with the wind, and it obviously wasn’t stepping away. “Then you misjudge the training and skill of the Nightwatch, Commander.”

“Perhaps.”

As footsteps warned of the approaching guard, I spun on my heel and walked across to the stairs. A brown-clad figure appeared down the bottom. I motioned him to stop, then glanced back at Stone.

“I hope you get your answers, Commander.”

“I intend to. Good night, March.”

I wasn’t sure whether his comment was a promise or a threat, and was just as unsure about the response it evoked within me. I nodded in reply and clattered down the stairs.

But I had a vague feeling I had not seen the last of Blacklake’s prime.

Treace clucked over me like a mother hen as I stripped off and climbed back into bed. She swung the nearby machine over me to check that I’d done no damage to either my hand or my leg, then reheated my meal and made I sure I ate it.

“You need to build your strength, young lady, not be wasting it willy-nilly,” she said at one point.

I smiled. “I’m fine—”

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “Nevertheless, you will stay in this bed until Mace gets here, won’t you? Because I will tie you down if I have to.”

I grinned. “And how many of your patients have said ‘yes please’ after such a threat.”

She laughed. “Far too many, I tell you. Sleep tight, lass. We’re just outside if you need anything.”

And so were the guards—one on each door, in fact. Trey Stone was certainly determined that I would remain exactly where I was supposed to. As the lights dimmed in the room, I shuffled down into the bed and dragged the sheet over my shoulders. The strange awareness had finally begun to fade, even if my body still hummed like a fiddle too tightly strung. I closed my eyes, drew in the silence and peace of this place, and slept.

And if I dreamed of green eyes and earth, I had no clear memory of it.

Mace visited me the following morning. After checking my wounds, he muttered something about wishing he could harness the healing skills of the Sifft for the greater good of all, and ordered me to keep the brace on my finger for one more day. Treace then brought a hearty mid-morning meal, the news that I was cleared to leave Winterborne, and a demand from Saska that I come and see her immediately.

I showered and dressed, then clipped the bracelets onto my utilities belt and strapped on the blaster and gut busters. The rifle I slung over my shoulder. I wasn’t about to leave anything here—not when doing so would involve all manner of paperwork and deputations when I got home.

Last night’s guard had been replaced by a slender, dark-haired woman. She gave me a friendly enough nod, but didn’t say anything as she led me into the inner bailey and across to a long, sturdy-looking building I presumed were the State Apartments. It was interesting that the commander had his quarters over the great hall rather than here. Maybe he simply preferred to keep the apartments for visiting guests—Blacklake might be an outpost, but he was still a member of a ruling family and a male at that. I doubted he’d be left out of family events or decisions.

Saska’s quarters were on the second floor and were a vast, comfortable space that not only possessed a four-poster bed, but also several couches, a private eating area, and an open fire. There were no tapestries on the whitewashed walls here, but rather paintings depicting landscapes and farm buildings. I wondered if they were meant to represent Tenterra as it had once been.

Saska sat near the fire, but turned as I entered. The look she gave me was remote and regal. The woman who’d sworn at me like a soldier had obviously been well and truly leashed.

“Neve,” she said, voice cool. “I’m glad you could make it before we were shipped out.”

It wasn’t like I really had an option but I merely stopped and did the required half bow. “I’m glad to see you appear to have recovered from your ordeal, Lady Saska.”

“Indeed.” She raised one eyebrow. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was in amusement or disdain. “Aside from the troublesome lack of memory of how I managed to get there, I’m surprisingly well.”

“Good.” I unclipped the bracelets and held them out to her. “These are yours.”

She didn’t take them. In fact, something close to fear or revulsion rolled across her face before she got her expression back under control.

“They were never mine. The first time I saw them was out in that desert.”

I frowned. “I thought you said the queen gifted—”

“I said no such thing.” Her cool tone hinted at anger. “And I will not have you spreading such lies, do you hear me?”

The wind that stirred around me contained a similar frosty bite, but also a warning for me to hold my tongue—that it wasn’t worth antagonizing her just yet. The wind rather unusually seemed to be on my side rather than hers right now.

“I hear.” Whether I obeyed was another matter entirely. Although, who would I tell? It wasn’t as if anyone would take my word over hers.

“Good.” She waved a hand dismissively. “You may do with them what you wish.”

“But—” I hesitated, my gaze falling to them. They were heavy in my hands and obviously pure silver. Selling them would go a long way to ensuring I had a good sum of money behind me come retirement—if I made retirement, that was. That wasn’t always a certainty in either the Night or Daywatch. But I couldn’t in good conscience accept them so readily. It wasn’t right—not when they might be some kind of family heirloom. Their design was certainly old enough. “You asked me to save them because of their value. This is far too much of a reward when I was only doing my job.”

“Then give one to Stone. I care not.”

She picked up a nearby mug and took a drink. I couldn’t help but notice her hand was trembling. There was definitely something about these bracelets she wasn’t passing on.

“So be it.” I clipped them back onto my utility belt. “Is there anything I can do for you before we leave?”

“No. I merely wished to express my thanks for your actions yesterday. I’m told I’d be dead were it not for you.”

I smiled. “That’s not entirely true. Both you and the wind contributed to our survival.”

“Indeed.” She paused, her gaze returning to mine. “My husband intends to give a masque to celebrate both the rising of Pomona and my return. I wish you to be present.”

Pomona was a festival dedicated to the goddess of the same name, and was both a celebration of the end of summer and an entreaty for a successful harvest. While Tenterra might have been made a wasteland after the war, the Gallion farmlands—which lay just behind Winterborne—hadn’t been as fully drained, and had quickly become plentiful again. The Pomona Masque was a big celebration, even in the outer bailey. Guard duty was restricted to a bare minimum, drink flowed, and the coupling rooms were never empty. I really didn’t want to waste such a celebration feeling awkward and out of place in some highborn’s house.

“I appreciate the honor, Lady Saska, but—”

She raised a hand, halting me. “You will come. It is only fitting that my saviors are appropriately presented to those who gave up hope.”

I wondered if one of those people was her husband. Wondered what he really thought about his long-lost wife being found. I guessed I was about to find out.

I bowed in acquiescence. “As you wish.”

“Good. I will arrange the appropriate invitation once I return home.”

“Thank you.” I hesitated. “Will there be anything else?”

“No.” She turned to the fire, dismissing me physically if not verbally. I retreated from the room. The dark-haired guard waited for me in the main corridor, and escorted me to the outer bailey, where two troop carriers waited.

Blacklake’s commander stood in front of the first one. My escort led me to him then, with a nod from Stone, retreated.

His gaze skimmed my length before returning to my face. “How are you feeling today, March?”

“Better, thank you, sir.” I unclipped one of the bracelets and held it out to him. “The lady Saska asked me to give this to you, as a token of her appreciation.”

He took the bracelet and studied it. “This isn’t the work of the smiths of Salysis.”

“I thought it might be some sort of heirloom.”

“If it were an heirloom, she wouldn’t be giving it away.” He rolled the bracelet around, a frown gathering. “I’ve never seen workmanship like this before. It’s almost Versonian in style, but couldn’t have come from that place.”

Because their lands had been sundered from ours by the Irkallan and a vast landslip, and all communications with them had long been lost.

“It is old,” I said. “So it’s possible it came from a time before the war.”

“Maybe.” He slipped the bracelet onto his belt. “Either way, I know someone who would appreciate such a trinket.”

My thoughts instantly went to the young, blonde-haired woman who tended his chambers. He was obviously a generous man if he gifted his serfs with such things.

“I also want to thank you for your timely intervention yesterday, Commander. If you’d been delayed but a few minutes longer—”

“I would probably have found more Adlin carcasses.”

I half smiled. “Unlikely, given I was almost out of ammunition.”

“Not when you had an air witch—and possibly more—at your command.” His gaze went past me as someone approached from behind. The speculation I’d briefly glimpsed fell once again, replaced by the cool efficiency of a man in charge. “You’re in the lead carrier, March, and part of the protection detail for Lady Saska.”

A soldier stopped beside me and offered me a bandoleer for the rifle and several clips for the gut busters.

I slung the former over my shoulder and attached the latter to my utility belt. “Thank you, Commander.”

He nodded and stepped back. “Assume your position, March.”

I nodded, formally saluted him, then spun and headed into the first carrier. Once Lady Saska and Lord Kiro were secured in the second vehicle, the engines were booted and the big machines rumbled forward.

It was a long and uneventful journey home. As Winterborne’s massive curtain wall began to dominate the evening horizon, I couldn’t help but wonder if Saska was as grateful to see it as I was, or whether her feelings ran to wariness or even fear. After such a long absence, she had to be uncertain of her position within her own family as well as in her husband’s bed. Although, given her countenance this morning, I suspected whatever emotions she might be feeling would be hidden under a mask of dismissive coldness.

The carriers swept through the gatehouse and came to a halt in the inner bailey. Mak November—the day shift captain and a man I’d once been involved with—was waiting, along with a full escort of guards in the heavy blue-and-gold uniforms of the Rossi family. Beside them, hovering just a foot or so off the stone, was a heavily curtained, sun-powered, short-range carriage.

Saska and Lord Kiro were greeted by the captain, then quickly ushered into the carriage and swept away. Only then were we allowed out.

“Check those weapons back in, then make your report, March,” Mak said, voice brusque. No surprise there given how badly our relationship had ended. “Captain July wishes you back on the line this evening.”

If I were the betting type, I’d say it was Mak behind the order more than July. I might have been the model of soldierly decorum since our breakup—mostly, anyway—but Mak had never really forgiven me expressing my exact opinion of him in the bitter moments after he’d told me he was marrying someone who was “nice and unstained.”

I saluted and then headed across the yard to armory three. Several day duty guards greeted me, but it was more a perfunctory, almost absent gesture than one containing any real warmth. The Nightwatch and the day guards rarely mingled, except on the odd celebratory event such as the upcoming masque.

Though there was still an hour before his shift should have started, Jon had already claimed his usual seat.

“Where’s Henry?” While I was surprised to see Jon, in truth, I’d much rather deal with him than his counterpart. Henry was several years older, and a whole lot crankier.

“He’s had to go to the infirmary—some sort of stomach bug. The cap asked if I’d step in for the last couple of hours.” His smiled flashed. “Good to see you back in one piece, lass.”

“It was a rather close run thing, let me tell you.” I slipped off the bandoleer and rifle, and followed him across to the armory’s door. “And I will have you know that the knife proved to be very handy.”

“Ha!” He hobbled around to his desk and opened the records folder on the desktop. “I’m guessing that means you should keep it.”

My gaze jumped to his. “But it’s noted in the inventory—won’t that get you into trouble?”

He waved his free hand as he began scanning in my weapons. “As I said, it’s been delisted. It’s yours if you want it.”

“I do. I owe my life to this thing.”

“I’m thinking the busters and the rifle might be due a word of thanks, too.” Amusement crinkled the deep lines in his face.

I grinned. “Maybe just a little bit.”

He handed me the stylus. I signed the weapons back in then gave him a sketchy salute and headed out. The bunkhouses lay at the western edge of the main wall, where the vast White Cliffs fell three hundred and fifty feet down to the Sea of Giants—so called, I was told, because of the white limestone stacks that still dotted the bay. There were no walls between the bunkhouses and those cliffs—there was no need for them, as both the Irkallan and the Adlin had a morbid fear of water. Even spring water caused them pause if it was deep or wide enough.

The room I shared with Ava and four others lay at the top of the five levels, and backed up against the old wall. It was a good position, because we had no one above us and neighbors only on one side rather than two. The price we paid for this was six in a room but none of us was willing to swap this relatively quiet position for a little more space.

I’d barely stepped through the door when Ava all but threw herself at me. She was slightly taller than me, with a lithe, softly rounded body that belied the steel of her core. She had the dark hair and lightly tanned skin of the Sifft, but features that echoed the rare beauty of those from Uraysia—a wider, more exotic-looking facial structure, a mouth that was made for kissing, and eyes that were as black and as heavenly as a starless sky, with the epicanthic fold enhancing rather than detracting from their beauty. Her body, pressed so firmly against mine, was trembling, her nipples erect and hard. Awareness stirred, and though it held none of the power of what had beset me both in the hospital and in Stone’s chamber, it was at least welcome this time. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her lightly, filled with relief that I was still able to do so.

“You didn’t get dead.” Her breath warmed the base of my neck. “I’d feared the worst when I found out what happened.”

I frowned. “Didn’t the captain pass on the news of my survival?”

She snorted and drew back, but kept her arms wrapped loosely around my neck. “Numbnuts was on. Such a nicety wouldn’t even enter his brain space.”

I chuckled softly. Ava had never forgiven Mak for his treatment of me, or the manner in which he’d acted since our breakup.

Mind you, nor had I. I was just a bit more circumspect about it after Captain July had chastised me for publicly running Mak down one drunken day.

“Hey,” a deeper voice said. “I thought we had a rule—there’s to be no canoodling between two of us without approval from the missing third?”

Ava’s snort was louder this time. She loosened her grip on me and turned around. “Well, if you want to sleep the whole damn day away, dearest April, who am I to judge?”

“You can sound so damn condescending at times, woman.” He tossed off the blankets and jumped down from the top bunk. He was a big man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a smattering of golden hair that ran across his chest and down his washboard abs. It was a trail I’d followed many a time with touch and tongue. “It’s a wonder any of us can tolerate you.”

“You do so because of the aforementioned sex. The others do so because the cook is sweet on me and it gets us extra rations.”

April laughed. “That is also very true.”

He flung an arm around each of us, then tugged me closer and kissed me soundly. “Shall we go find an empty coupling room to celebrate?”

Ava punched him lightly. “Is sex really all you can think about at a moment like this?”

He considered the question for a second, and then said, “Yes, I believe it is.”

I laughed and nudged him. “In this particular case, it’s the anticipation of such that has gotten me through the long drive back from Blacklake.”

“See? It’s not just me.” He gave Ava a told-you-so look then caught both our hands and led us out the door. “Let’s go find that coupling room.”

We did. And the sex that followed was a damn good validation of both friendship and life.

And yet that niggling sense that something was wrong, that my life and my world were about to change in ways I couldn’t begin to understand, wouldn’t go away. The wind whispered softly through my dreams, but her voice was unclear and muddy. I had no idea if she was trying to warn me of what might be coming, or merely playing games yet again.

In the nights that followed, the niggling fears did not become reality. Life went on as it normally did, and I heard no word from Saska, Lord Kiro, or even Commander Stone. While it should have eased my mind, the opposite seemed to be happening.

It was on the fifth night after my return that the Adlin were first spotted.

“All towers report,” came the captain’s gruff order. “We have sleuth movement a mile out. Anyone sight anything?”

I leaned out as negatives ran down the line. A sliver moon held court in the sky tonight and it cast little in the way of light. But if the Adlin were only a mile out, we should have been able to spot them—Sifft night sight was almost as good as any mechanical aid currently in use.

“No sign of movement here,” I said, when my turn came.

“Keep sharp, everyone, because they’re out there.”

Not only out there, but howling.

But no attack came. Not then, and not for the long, uneasy nights that followed.

I had a weird feeling they were waiting for something.

Or for someone.

The wind had its own theory about what was going on and who might be involved, and part of me couldn’t help but wonder if the wind was right.

Because the name it kept whispering was none other than Saska Rossi.