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handle of his rapier that wasn’t there.
    “Truth is,” said Bronwyn casually, “I set a pretty decent trap myself.”
     
    “ Vesuna’s blood .” Kara swore softly as she fiddled with the strongbox lock. Her lockpicking tools scratched and clicked as she fiddled with them.
    The strongbox was firmly locked. Kara knew she could unlock it. But it would take time.
    And time was one thing she didn’t have.
    She turned back to the four-poster bed behind her.
    The strongbox was locked. It needed a key. And the key had to be somewhere .
    Kara moved swiftly back to the bed and ripped back the curtain.
    Dutraad was still sleeping soundly, drugged by the sleeping powder she had slipped into his drink.
    Kara took a breath, then started rummaging through the unconscious man’s pockets. After a few seconds she discovered a small ring of keys, overlooked before when she had been searching for the Soulbinder. She pulled the keys out and glanced over at them quickly.
    One caught her eye. A small, brass key, about the right size and shape….
    The thief allowed herself a smile, then turned back to the strongbox.
    There was a knock at the chamber door.
     
    “I say, said Maklavir indignantly. “Do you know who I am?” He backed against a table that was set against the corridor’s wall. Several lit candles were set onto its surface, sleeved in crystal like all the other candles in the manor.
    “Actually,” the first guard said with a sneering grin, “I know exactly who you are.” He pulled out his sword. The blade flashed in the candlelight. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”
    Maklavir moved his hands behind his back and fumbled them near the candles. He glanced back down the corridor.
    The second guard was moving up. His sword was in his hand as well.
    “Now, gentlemen,” said Maklavir nervously, “I think there’s obviously been some sort of mistake here—”
    The first guard grinned evilly. “You can say that again, barrister . Looks like we’ll have to do things the hard way after all.”
     
    Bronwyn crossed behind the assassin to the open door.
    Nobody moved. The jaunty waltz music from the main hall drifted down the hall into the candle-lit room.
    Bronwyn looked back over her shoulder. “I believe the two of you have already met Nadine here?”
    Kendril stared hard at the assassin in front of him. Even without the mask that covered half of the beautiful woman’s face, he recognized her. It was the same assassin he had chased on the rooftops, the same one that had attacked Maklavir and him in the library.
    So she and Bronwyn were working together. Of course.
    Kendril cursed silently.
    Bronwyn smiled sweetly at him. “I thought as much. Unfortunately, I can’t stay and play any more, but Nadine will be happy to oblige.” She flipped back her long black hair, then gave an unconcerned nod towards the black-clad assassin. “Be a dear, Nadine, and kill them both.”
    Nadine leapt forward.
     
    “Sir?” The knock came again, more insistent this time. “My lord, are you all right?”
    Kara didn’t know who was pounding on the door, and she didn’t care. All she knew was that the tone of voice was conveying concern, the kind that would pause for only a few deferential moments before kicking the door open.
    She dashed to the door and slammed down the wooden bolt into the locked position.
    The door jostled, banging roughly as it failed to open.
    Kara heard the faint sounds of weapons being drawn out in the hallway. She turned back into the room.
    “My lord?”
    The bolt was a simple room lock. It wouldn’t hold out against a determined battering for long.
    Kara stumbled forward, tripping in the long white dress that she wore. She swore under her breath, then tore away the bottom hem of the skirt to free up her legs.
    There was not much point in looking pretty now.
    A jarring crash sounded from the door, accompanied by the splintering of wood.
    Kara kicked the painting out of her