Lucyan’s pulse jumped with excitement. “That sounds like a good lead,” he said, setting down his tankard. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I still have several hours before curfew. Let’s go and have a look now, while I am still free.”
The four of them quickly finished their meal, then hired a carriage to take them to the location. The ride took a good forty minutes with traffic, and by the time they got out, Lucyan’s blood was humming. Ryolas pressed a coin into the driver’s hand and promised him more if he waited another thirty minutes—this far out it was difficult to hire another carriage, and they did not want to be stranded if their hunch turned out to be false.
The villa was perched in the middle of a large acreage, the perimeter surrounded with a thick border of trees that provided excellent cover. They snuck close, and Lucyan held up a hand as he felt the familiar sting of magic hit his nose. The hair on his arms rose in response to the deadly power.
“There is a ward here,” Ryolas whispered, sensing it too. “Judging by what I can feel, it would either strike us dead or incapacitate us long enough for any guards to come and tie us up.”
“The guards are usually equipped with amulets to allow them to pass back and forth safely,” Corbin said. “We’ll wait until one comes out, then ambush him.”
Lucyan nodded. The four of them crouched near the entrance path, two on either side. Sweat beaded on Lucyan’s brow as the minutes passed with agonizing slowness—it had taken him longer than expected to reach this place, and they still had to get in and out. If Basilla was there, they would leave immediately, warlock spy training be damned. But if not, Lucyan could not afford to miss curfew.
“At the very least, there must be something of great value in there,” Ryolas murmured, reading Lucyan perfectly. “Mordan would not have taken such pains to set up this ward if there was nothing worth guarding.”
Lucyan nodded, then held a finger to his mouth to shush him as footsteps approached. A few minutes later, the man passed through the perimeter, whistling cheerfully as he walked. Ryolas flung his wrist out, snaking a glowing whip around the man’s throat and pulling it tight before he could utter a sound. The guard kicked and thrashed as Ryolas hauled him forward, then went still when the elf snapped his neck, swiftly putting him out of his misery.
“There we are,” Lucyan said, pulling an amulet hooked around the guard’s belt after a quick search. He began to put it on himself, but Draxton hurried over and took it.
“Better I go first, my prince,” Draxton said as he fastened it to his own belt. “In case we’re wrong.”
Lucyan nodded tersely. They all held their breath as Draxton carefully walked through the perimeter, then let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened. Once safely through, Draxton tossed the amulet back, and they repeated the process until all four of them were on the other side.
As they quietly crept forward, Lucyan spotted a statue of a robed woman not far from the tree line. “A-ha,” he said, tapping her head. He could smell the magic rolling off it. “This is the control for the ward. I wonder if it’s worth turning off.”
Ryolas shook his head. “It is too dangerous to tamper with such things if one does not know the right keyword,” he said. “The statue could just as easily destroy us in the process. Best to just keep moving.”
The three of them approached the house on silent feet, sneaking up behind a few other guards and slicing their throats before they could sound the alarm. It appeared the ward itself was their primary method of security—there were only half a dozen men to incapacitate. Lucyan took a running leap toward a window on the side of the house and used his brute strength to force it open. He climbed into an empty guest room, Ryolas and the agents right behind him, his dagger still in his fist.
“Basilla is definitely here,” Ryolas said, his eyes sparking. “My magic is still having trouble finding her exact location, but I sense her clearly.”
Lucyan nodded tersely. He could scent the princess as well. “This place is enormous,” he muttered as they quietly opened the door and stepped into a dark hallway illuminated only by a few candles. “We should split up.”
“Agreed.” The four of them went their separate ways, two taking the lower level, while Lucyan and Draxton searched upstairs. They agreed to meet back in thirty minutes. Lucyan hurried up the hall, wishing that he’d thought to bring some of those warlock communication devices. That would have been far more convenient. Stealing into the foyer, he spotted a guard standing by the staircase. Seeing no way to sneak up behind him, he palmed a throwing knife and flung it. It sank into the guard’s throat, and he collapsed to his knees, choking on his own blood as it burbled from his lips. Lucyan ran up the stairs past him, yanking his blade out of the man’s throat as he went. Another guard standing near the banister cried out as he whirled around, but a second blade from Draxton silenced him before he could say more.
“Milton?” a male voice called as Draxton and Lucyan reached the top of the stairs. A third guard came out of the hallway on the left. “Intruders!” he cried, drawing his sword. Lucyan snarled as shouts came from different parts of the house. So much for stealth. Draxton buried a dagger in the man’s eye, but it was too late—the others had been alerted.
“I’ll take the right side,” Lucyan barked, already running in the opposite direction. He drew his sword as another guard rushed up to meet him. Steel clashed against steel in the tight corridor, and as Lucyan saw another guard running to join him, he was tempted to incinerate the lot of them. Fire bloomed in his chest, but he suppressed it, parrying the guard’s blow with one hand while he sliced open his belly with the dagger he’d palmed while the man wasn’t looking. He didn’t want to leave any trace that a dragon had been there, if he could help it. The last thing he needed was for Prince Mordan to order a manhunt for him, disguise or no.
After Lucyan had dispatched the guards, he hurriedly opened all of the doors in the corridor, checking inside each one. Most of them were either guest rooms or closets, and all were empty. He doubled back to the foyer, killing another guard on his way. He hoped one of the guards hadn’t thought to take the princess and spirit her out during the commotion, or worse, kill her.
“I found her!” Ryolas’s voice echoed. Lucyan’s heart leapt with excitement, and he vaulted over the banister, rushing toward the sound of the elf’s voice. He found Ryolas and Corbin standing in a bedroom on the lower level. Behind the gauzy curtains of a large four-poster bed lay Basilla, sleeping like the dead. Ryolas was shaking her, his face pinched tight with concern.