Chaos broke out around the room, as if the place were up in flames.

Cyrene’s mouth dropped open, but instinct took over. She shouted through the bond for Avoca to get herself out as soon as she could. Orden had somehow wrestled a sword from an unsuspecting victim and was slicing through the bindings on Matilde’s and Vera’s wrists. She rushed to their side but was hastily scooped up by the commander.

“What in the bloody hell did you bring here?” he demanded.

She elbowed him in the side. “Let me go.”

“I’d do as she said,” Matilde ruthlessly said with a fireball in her hand. Her dark hair had fallen out of its bun, and she looked like a fire-wielding goddess.

“I could kill her before you ever hope to reach me.”

“But you won’t. That is not in line with your code,” Vera said. Ice had started crawling its way up her arms, and the path around her was frozen solid.

“Release her. Now,” Matilde said.

Orden was holding the rest of the group at bay while Avoca and Ahlvie fought their way out of the room.

“You will regret this,” the commander said, pushing Cyrene toward them. “The Guild does not forgive slights. We will come after you tenfold. There is not a place in all of Emporia that we do not touch.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Vera said before freezing his feet to the ground.

His eyes widened at the ease with which she had done it. He opened his mouth, as if to ask a question, but Matilde released her fireball, and suddenly, the place was actually on fire.

Orden grabbed Cyrene’s wrists and snapped through the rope. Her magic released itself to her at once, and she sighed with relief. She used her pent-up energy to blast the wave of fighters away from them. Then, as they were disoriented and the ceiling started to cave in from the fire, they made a dash for the exit.

Cyrene could feel a tug from Avoca, guiding them out of the Guild headquarters and through the maze. They exited onto an empty street in an abandoned part of town. They barreled down the road, keeping to side streets as much as they could, before they came upon the stable where Avoca was standing watch. They all ducked inside and out of the cold.

“You’re safe,” Cyrene said, embracing Avoca.

“Yes. We made it fine.”

“Where is Ahlvie?”

“Here,” he said, returning in ill-fitted breeches and an unbuttoned shirt. “Had to sneak into the house and find something to wear. Imagine if one of the ladies had walked in on me, naked and rummaging through their drawers.”

“In Kell, it would be tantamount to losing your head,” Vera said. “Kell is extremely prudish and undeniably religious. They take their prayers to the Creator very seriously.”

“What in the Creator’s name was that place?” Avoca demanded, turning her back on Ahlvie. “Fighting for my life after they ambushed us?”

“The Guild,” Orden said with a sigh.

“You know of it?” Matilde asked in surprise.

“I don’t just know it. My master was trained in it.”

Everyone stared at him, agog.

“They’re practically a sacred organization within the Triangle.”

“But what are they?” Cyrene asked.

“Assassins,” Orden said simply.

“You were trained as an assassin?” Ahlvie asked. “Come on! You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I was not trained as an assassin. I am a man of honor. After my sister, Lissa, died, I left the court at Aurum, and I disappeared into the Sand Plains, determined to end it all. I came across a man who saw my potential and offered to train me. I was foolish and believed myself already a skilled swordsman. I spent five precious years learning I was wrong and heard more stories than you could possibly fathom about my master’s life here in the Guild.”

Cyrene’s heart broke. Orden offered very little about his history. She had always respected his privacy but found his backstory to be so fascinating.

“I think the important thing that has changed about the Guild since we were last here,” Matilde said, “is that they train with magic. Though they have little knowledge of what they’re actually doing. It is clear that they believe their energy, as they call it, is bound to their fighting skills. The ropes, once sliced, couldn’t tie off our powers any longer.”

“A huge misstep in their magical education,” Vera said.

“That’s why you weren’t worried?” Cyrene asked.

Vera nodded once. “For all their skill, they are untrained in the ways of the Doma.”

“But are formidable as assassins here,” Orden said. “They freely walk around without retribution. People allow them into their homes without complaint. Assassins are the way of the world here, and no one turns against them.”

“Well,” Ahlvie said with an indulgent shrug, “there’s a first time for everything.”

Cyrene shook her head at Ahlvie. Of course, that would be his takeaway. “We need to find a safe place for the night and then get out of Alba as soon as we can.”

“An inn would not be a good idea,” Matilde said. “Not if what Orden says is true of the Guild.”

“We no longer have contacts in the city,” Vera said. “I knew we should have come here sooner.”

“I truly do hate the snow,” Matilde said.

They continued quarreling when a light bulb struck Cyrene.

“Creator! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“What?” Ahlvie asked.

“We’re in Alba.”

“Yes. Thank you for that assessment.”

“My sister Aralyn lives here. She is the Ambassador to Kell.”

“Do you know where she has been staying?” Orden asked.

“Would she house us?” Vera asked.

“Can she be trusted?” Matilde added.

“Yes, I believe so. The Ambassadorship comes with accommodations, usually in the castle, but I know Kell is different because they are an aristocracy and run by a group of lords. The last I heard, she was staying with Lord Berg.”

Orden startled. “Berg? As in, Larsen Berg?”

Matilde pursed her lips. “Even we’ve heard of him.”

“Yes, he’s merciless,” Vera confirmed.

“Do we have another option?” Cyrene asked.

Everyone looked around at each other and then shook their heads. No, this was the only option they had. No one else was familiar with anyone who was still living in Kell. Even Matilde and Vera hadn’t been in the city in two hundred years.

“I know where the Bergs live,” Orden said. “I can take us to their residence.”

“How much time have you spent in the city?” Cyrene asked.

He shot her a cunning grin. “More than I care to admit.”

“Then, let’s go before the Guild puts out the fire we started.”

Everyone filed out of the barn. They took off at an easy jog through the streets of Alba. Cyrene was terrified about their tracks being visible in the snow, but Matilde waved her hand at the road, and they vanished.

“How did you do that?”

“Wind. You do it,” Matilde said. “You have enough strength.”

Cyrene sighed and wished she hadn’t asked. But, by the time they reached the mysterious Lord Berg’s house, Cyrene was an expert at covering their tracks. And she felt light as a feather. As if she could have done that all day. Magic might be the most addictive substance on earth.

They looked at Lord Berg’s impressive mansion from a side street. Orden wanted to sweep the perimeter before approaching the house. He, Avoca, and Ahlvie disappeared, promising to make sure they hadn’t been followed as well. Cyrene huddled in her cloak and wished she had poor Ceffy and the winter gloves that she’d received from Mana back in Fen.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand. How do they all have magic?” Cyrene asked. “I thought magic was gone.”

Matilde frowned. “Magic has never really disappeared, but we were as baffled as you were by the amount of natural-born Doma users.”

“It seems magic has gone underground. You can still find it, but no one is using it in plain sight any longer,” Vera added. “The Guild is a trained assassin group. They are respected, but no one, not even them, realize what they’re doing is magic.”

“Then, they’re fools,” Cyrene said.

“The most dangerous ones always are,” Matilde said.

Orden appeared at her elbow then. “I think it might be best if I approach the lord first. He will respect a title that he understands. Then, I can find out if your sister is in fact in residence still.”

Cyrene nodded. “Be careful.”

She watched as Orden crossed the empty street and knocked on the door. A butler answered, and they had a quick conversation. From the looks of it, the man didn’t want to speak with Orden at such an hour. Cyrene was ready to break into the house herself when the man finally gave a disgruntled nod and allowed Orden to move inside.

Ahlvie and Avoca appeared a few minutes later. It was a freezing half hour in which they were all blanketed in snow before Orden appeared at the door once more. He looked worried. Even for him.

“Thank you, Lord Berg. I greatly appreciate your assistance.”

Orden bowed crisply and then walked across the street.

“What happened?” Cyrene demanded when Orden appeared.

“Lord Berg refuses to house us. Also, he claims to have never heard of an Ambassador Aralyn from Byern.”

“What?” Cyrene asked. “How is that possible?”

“However,” Orden continued, unfazed, “Lady Berg briefly spoke to me while Lord Berg went to fetch us some fine Kelltic vodka and told me not to listen to her husband. That she would be happy to house me and my friends for the night.”

“That’s nice of her,” Matilde said with suspicion in her voice.

“She told me to come around to the back after Lord Berg went to sleep, and she would bring us inside and deal with Lord Berg herself.”

“I’m shocked that a lady would sidestep her husband in such a way,” Vera said.

“She is a formidable woman.”

“Well,” Cyrene said, “my gut says to go with it. What do you all think?”

“We have no other choice,” Orden said.

Everyone nodded, and then they set out to wait for Lord Berg to retire. Orden claimed that he took a cigar out on his balcony every night and then promptly went to bed afterward. Cyrene practiced warming them all up while they waited. She was getting better and better at it. Even Ahlvie didn’t complain as she worked on it.

“This is getting good,” Vera said with a warm smile. Probably because they weren’t all freezing now.

“Why do you think that is? When we first started, I could barely do anything that wasn’t catastrophic.”

“Magic has a way of things. You had a block against your powers. You didn’t believe in magic, and you didn’t believe in yourself. You might have learned your powers wrong in Byern, but once you started over, you retained that confidence about your abilities. You complain, but you don’t second-guess yourself. You are strong,” Matilde said. “You learned that yourself, and now, your abilities and the way you master them should happen more naturally.”

“Plus, you have me,” Avoca added. She reached through the bond and turned up the heat on Cyrene’s magic.

“Yes, the bond definitely helps. You learn faster together,” Vera agreed.

“I think it’s time,” Orden said, watching Lord Berg snuff out his cigar and then disappear back inside.

They waited another ten minutes before hurrying to the back of the house and waiting for Lady Berg to let them inside. Cyrene prayed to the Creator that this wasn’t a trap. Her little band of followers needed one easy break right about now.

Miraculously, the door swung open, and Lady Berg’s face appeared at the door. She was dressed in a fine dark green dress, and her hair was pulled back into a twist. Her eyes were wide and blue and startlingly familiar.

“Aralyn?” Cyrene gasped.