An instant wariness touched his pale blue eyes. “Go ahead.”
“Set a watch schedule. Have two guards awake at all times, and don’t sleep alone.”
“Why? I’m allied with both sides.”
“But you’re not friends with the Commander. He has other assassins working for him.”
“You said it would be a subtle takeover. No war.”
“The Commander took over Ixia by assassinating key people in power. In other words, those people who might object to the new regime and had the resources to cause problems. People like the Sitian Councilors and the general of the Sitian army. Besides, it never hurts to be extra-vigilant.”
“Noted.”
Valek gave him a mock salute and climbed out the window. He doubted Cahil’s security would stop a trained assassin, but at least it might slow the person down. Scooping up the bundle, Valek hurried back to where Yelena waited.
She had built a small fire. His comments to Cahil about being prudent rose to mind, but not many assassins could slip past Kiki. Valek paused before his wife noticed him. Over the twenty-five days since they’d been apart, the angles of her beautiful face had softened, while her skin and hair shone. All due to her pregnancy. She might not be showing yet, but to a careful observer, the signs were there.
“Stop skulking about in the woods and come tell me what Cahil said,” Yelena called.
He strode into the firelight. “How did you know?”
“Kiki. She raised her head as if she heard something, then relaxed.” Yelena pointed to the clothing. “I take it you were successful.”
Valek filled her in. “We only have a couple hours to get ready. I’ll do your disguise first, and then you can nap while I work on mine.” He pulled supplies from his saddle bags. Holding up a pair of scissors, Valek tested the edge of the blades for sharpness.
Yelena made a small huh sound and crinkled her nose.
“Sorry, love—the women in Cahil’s group all have shorter hair. But with some artful braiding, I can make it appear even shorter without having to cut off as much.”
“Not that.” She grabbed his hand, pulled up the bottom of her tunic and pressed his palm to her stomach.
“What—”
“Just wait.”
The warmth from her body soaked into his skin. He wished they had time for a proper reacquaintance. Perhaps just a nibble on her earlobe. Valek leaned closer, but without warning, a sensation brushed along his fingers. He drew back and met Yelena’s gaze. Tender delight shone in her eyes. The light touch repeated, and understanding hit him. Hard. His lungs constricted as if he’d been sucker-punched.
“The baby?” he asked the obvious in a whisper. All he could manage.
“No. Bad indigestion from Janco’s cooking,” she teased. “Of course it’s the baby.”
He knew that, so why did the ground soften beneath his feet and the world tilt and spin around him? Because now the baby was tangible. Not just a concept or a belief. Real. Excitement mixed with fear, and the desire to protect crashed through him like a burning hot wave. He staggered to his knees under the weight.
Confused, Yelena held his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“You can’t go,” he said.
She stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow. It’s too dangerous. Let me and Onora—”
Yelena knelt next to him. “You’re overreacting. Besides, you argued for it. Remember?”
“Our baby changed my mind.”
She grasped both his hands in hers. “You need me. If any of Fisk’s members escaped, they won’t talk to you or Onora. Zitora also won’t trust either of you. And the library in the Keep may not allow you to view Master Magician Ellis Moon’s notes.”
Her words were all logical. Once inside the Citadel, the risk of capture diminished. Yet the sick fear gripping his insides with its sharp claws refused to let go.
In a softer tone, she said, “There will be no family for us if Bruns wins.”
Another valid point.
“And fate might smile on us, and we’ll find a weakness that we can exploit, or better yet, that you can use to assassinate Bruns.”
Valek’s calm detachment returned, cooling his inner turmoil and solidifying his determination to see this through to the bitter end. “You’d let me assassinate Bruns?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What about the rest of the Cartel?”
“No. They’re pawns.”
Pity. “Owen?”
“Yes with a capital Y.”
Something to look forward to. “How about Cahil?”
“No.”
“What if I say please?”
“Still no.”
“How about pretty please?”
“Valek.” Her tone warned him to stop. She picked up the scissors he’d dropped, wiped off the dirt and handed them to him. “Time to get to work.”