Chapter One

“Aren’t you ready?” Oxanya demanded. “We need to go.”

Around her, the trader’s camp bustled with activity. Drovers and workmen packed goods into wagons and stamped the fire out. At the moment, her irritation focused on two personal servants who preened before a mirror, enjoying their temporary finery. Guilty, they faced her at attention.

“Of course, Dama,” Lijah whispered, while Neslam held his arms stiff at his sides. Neither of them acted like the independent traders they were supposed to be.

“Let’s go over it one more time,” Oxanya coached, striving for patience. She jabbed a finger at Neslam. “Who are you?”

The footman shook himself slightly before adopting an easy swagger. He settled the lapels of his black coat and hooked both thumbs into his trousers’ waistband.

“Hail, good lady. I am Nessalar of Mirost, finest trader in all the west of Arkanost.” He bowed from the waist, then caught Lijah and Oxanya with a broad gesture. “This is my wife, Lijanna, and our dear daughter, Sannia.”

Oxanya made a brief curtsey, acknowledging her part in the charade, while Lijah simpered, “Good day to you,” and swished her brocaded skirts in a curtsey. Oxanya shook her head at the travesty of her late mother’s graceful movements.

“Lijah. I know the fabric is nice, but you don’t have to play with it.” The serving woman shrank a little. “Today, you aren’t a maid. You’re a proud mother, so stand up.”

With a deep breath, the servant cum prosperous wife straight­ened her back and put on a majestic air.

“Not that much,” Oxanya corrected. “It isn’t like you’re a wizard.”

Behind them, the seven guardsmen disguised as workers fin­ished pushing the three wagons into a train behind the shaggy mon­tus. They lined up to wait with perfect, silent discipline.

Oxanya faced Neslam. “What are your wares, Nessalar of Mirost? And why are you so far off your route?”

“We’ve come for the testing today. My Sannia has a bit of talent,” he bragged. “As for my wares, I bring only the best fabrics and spices from across the Sea of Sinapos. What do you need? I’m sure I have just the thing. Shall we talk about a price?”

Oxanya couldn’t help smiling a little. “You’ll do.”

Next she inspected the guardsmen. It was strange to see them dressed as drovers and grooms, instead of wearing their crimson uniforms. Their hair, once neatly clipped, had grown out and become quite shaggy.

“All prepared, Gebel?” she asked, drawing abreast of the gray-haired sergeant, who was outfitted as a cook.

“Yes, Dama. We’ll follow along slowly, so you can do your dealings by the time we get there.”

“With luck,” Oxanya murmured, turning toward the ornyx carts. The tall birds were hitched to light, mobile carts. They bobbed heads and hissed at each other, crests high. Oxanya agreed with their impatience as she seated herself in her private cart.

It had all been planned so carefully, from the name of Mirost—a distant province, thus nobody would know if they came from there or not—to Yolie’s most loyal guards, to the wares in the carts. There was no room for blundering.

The guards weren’t the only ones who had changed. Oxanya had spent half the morning on spellcraft to alter her appearance. While her natural hair was jet black with a stubborn curl, magic had given her red-gold, straight hair. Lijah had styled it into an elegant bun. Oxanya’s eyes were now blue instead of brown. They watered and stung, but that would pass. More magic had erased any trace of a freckle or mole from her newly lightened skin.

It had been disturbing to gaze in the mirror and see a stranger blinking back, but the disguise was crucial. A year ago, her father, Count Aisleng of Elvist, had been revealed as a traitor. The family had barely escaped into Costera and now sheltered with Dama Yolie of Laceto. If Oxanya was recognized as Aisleng’s daughter, every­thing would be ruined.

She was lucky Dama Yolie had shared these tricks with her. Of course, luck had little to do with it. Oxanya had been trained to do a job, along with Yolie’s two servants and her guards. If she suc­ceeded, a new life awaited her. She’d have the power and luxury every true wizard deserved.

If they failed… No, Oxanya wouldn’t even think it. She owed Yolie too much. The Costeran witch had made it all too clear her father would pay the price if she didn’t do what was expected.

A flick of the reins set her ornyx in motion. The bird’s long legs moved in an effortless blur of speed. Neslam and Lijah rum­bled after her in a shared cart. The village of Lornest was right around the bend. Her goal was to join the “secret” new order. She’d learn Valdira’s weaknesses, and as much else as she could, and report it all to Yolie.

The first step was to pass whatever foolish test they had. Since she’d been studying under a witch-queen of Costera, she didn’t expect any difficulty. Everyone knew the Collegium magi were menials who scraped and served when they should have been princes. If they were that stupid, how hard could it be to trick them?

Oxanya drew a deep breath and flicked the reins to speed the ornyx along. Wind might bring tears to her eyes, but she smiled, anticipating the challenge to come.