“The glass district is off Dog Butte Drive,” Jibbs called softly back once they’d left the towers. “I’ll drop you off along the way.”
“Thank you.” Syla thought about sitting up again, but if there were agents lurking in the city, it would be wise to remain out of sight. Besides, after the long day, it felt good to lie in Vorik’s arms. Though a soft giggle startled her. Had that been… Aunt Tibby? Did Aunt Tibbygiggle?
“I believe romance is happening elsewhere in this wagon,” Vorik murmured.
“That can’t be right,” Syla whispered, more stunned than she probably should have been. But she’d never imagined her aunt having romantic urges. Especially toward Fel. “They’re… older. And he doesn’t have enoughbooks.”
“Oh? Have you surveyed his collection?”
“I’ve never been in his quarters.”
Had Fel’s room in the castle even survived the initial stormer invasion? She had no idea. Before all this had begun, he’d onlybeen her bodyguard for a couple of weeks, a supposed last duty for him before retirement.
“It may contain shelves stuffed with books,” Vorik said.
Another giggle came from the other side of the wagon.
“Itmust,” Syla whispered.
Vorik shifted closer to her, resting a hand on her hip. Didhehave romance in mind too?
Jibbs directed his horses around a corner, and they passed under a lantern burning on a post. Scant seconds later, a thud sounded as something hit the side of the wagon.
Startled, Syla started to sit up, but Vorik whispered, “Stay down,” and used his hand to keep her in place.
Fel swore and lurched upright. Jibbs cursed. Another thud sounded, and an arrow lodged into the wagon side opposite Syla, an inch below the top, the fletching quivering.
“Stay down,” Vorik repeated before ignoring his own advice and vaulting to the street, his sword in hand before he landed.
Fel stayed in the wagon but lifted his crossbow, quarrels already loaded. He fired at someone in a dark alley between two buildings.
“They’re enforcers,” he said. “I saw a gray uniform.”
Syla clenched her jaw and stayed down, but she also wanted to do something. And to punch Fograth. If only he were there.
“Get everyone with a moon-mark!” someone shouted as uniformed men charged toward the driver.
Jibbs lifted his crossbow, leaped off the bench, and tried to find cover behind the wagon, but enforcers were running up from both sides of the street.
“There are two women in the back too!” someone yelled.
“Look out for the guy in black. He’s—” A clash rang out, swords coming together, and drowned out the rest of the statement.
I may need your assistance after all, Wreylith,Syla called out telepathically.
To do more than be a distraction?The dragon still sounded indignant.
Yeah.
A horse squealed in fear and reared up. The wagon lurched, tossing Syla across lumpy bags of potatoes. Jibbs swore and jumped back as the horses took off down the street. Fel also swore, his aim disrupted.
Syla risked lifting her head over the edge of the wagon. By the light of street lanterns, Vorik was visible, dodging arrows and slashing his sword through crossbow hafts and bow staves. He kicked a man trying to get close but wasn’t trying to kill anyone.
“He deserves a medal,” Syla said. “This isn’t even his fight.”
“Ideserve a medal,” Fel grumbled, reloading his crossbow.
Jibbs charged after the wagon, trying to reload his own crossbow as he ran, but two gray-uniformed men sprang out of an alley, and one tackled him. Fel fired, catching the second enforcer in the shoulder before he could help. Jibbs managed to keep his feet and whirled, using his crossbow like a club to strike the closest attacker. By then, Vorik had disarmed or knocked out the rest of the enforcers, and he sprinted up in time to grab Jibbs’s foe and hurl him into a brick wall.
