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they’re after.”
    If Demon had been closer, he would have kicked Dillon; eyes narrowing, he was tempted to do it anyway. Only the fact that he hadn’t yet determined how Flick saw Dillon—if she reserved the right to kick him to herself, and would fly to Dillon’s defense if he administered any of the punishment Dillon so richly deserved—kept him still.
    Dillon glanced at Flick. “You could even try riding for some of the other stables.”
    Flick looked down her nose at him. “I’ll stick to Demon’s stable—he can look over the others.”
    Her tone was cold and distant; Dillon shrugged petulantly. “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”
    He looked down at the table and so missed the fury that poured from Flick’s eyes. “Just so we’re perfectly clear,” she stated, “I am only helping you because of the General—because of what having you taken up, without any evidence of a syndicate to redeem you in any way, will do to him. That’s why I’m helping you.”
    Head high, she swung on her heel and stalked out.
    Demon paused, looking at Dillon, now staring sulkily at the table. “Stay here. If you value your life, stay out of sight.”
    Dillon’s eyes widened; with a curt nod, Demon followed Flick into the deep twilight.
    He found her saddling Jessamy, her movements swift and jerky. He didn’t offer to help; he suspected she could saddle up blind—indeed, he wasn’t at all sure she wasn’t doing that now.
    Hurt and anger poured off her; disillusionment shimmered about her. Propping his shoulders against a convenient tree, Demon glanced across the clearing to where Ivan was still standing in exactly the same pose as an hour ago—staring at his new lady love.
    Brows quirking, Demon turned back to Flick. Her head was just visible over Jessamy’s back. He considered the halo of gold, the delicate features beneath.
    She was furious with Dillon, hurt that he hadn’t told her the truth, and shocked by the details of that truth. But, once her fury wore thin, what then? She and Dillon were of similar age; they’d grown up together. Precisely what that meant he didn’t know, but he had to wonder how accurate her last assertion was. Was she risking her reputation only for the General? Or for Dillon as well?
    He studied her, but couldn’t decide. Whatever the answer, he would shield her as best he could.
    He looked up at the stars, just starting to appear, and heard a sniff, instantly suppressed. She was taking a long time with her saddle girths.
    “He’s young.” Why he felt compelled to excuse Dillon he couldn’t have said.
    “He’s two years older than me.”
    How old did that make her? Demon wished he knew.
    “What do you think happened to Ickley?”
    Demon silently considered; he didn’t imagine her ensuing silence meant she didn’t expect an answer. “Either he’s gone to ground, in which case the last thing we’d want to do is flush him out, or . . . we’ll never know.”
    She made a small sound, like a hum, in her throat—a muted sound of distress.
    Demon straightened away from the tree; in the gathering gloom, he couldn’t see her face clearly. At that moment, she stepped back from Jessamy’s side, dusting her hands. He strolled around the mare. “You can continue at my stable for the time being—until we catch sight of this contact.” If any avenue had offered, he’d have eased her out of his stable, out of Newmarket itself until all danger was past. But . . . her stubbornness was a tangible thing.
    She turned to face him. “If you try to get rid of me, I’ll just get a job in another stable. There’s more than one in Newmarket.”
    None as safe as his. “Carruthers will keep you on until I say otherwise.” Which he would the instant they located Dillon’s contact. “But you’ll be restricted to riding track, morning and afternoon.”
    “That’s the only time that matters, anyway. That’s the only time outsiders aren’t looked at askance about the