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that the woman was indeed the Goddess, lost to them for a thousand years.
    Not entirely lost. Someone had known she was there. Had kept her in an enchanted sleep.
    “Jump!” Freya said again, her tone insistent.
    Was she mad?
    But she didn’t wait for him. Pushing past, she leapt into the open space. Without allowing himself to think, Jarrod closed his eyes and launched himself after her. He held his staff out and whispered a spell.
    For a few seconds, it held them, slowing their headlong fall. Then he sensed the combined will of the warlocks in the courtyard below, and the spell broke and they hurtled through space.
    Was this death? He wanted to shout to her but the wind tore the words from his mouth and scattered them.
    One moment Freya was falling, the next she was lifted up by a whirl of wind, enclosed in a vortex, spun around, and then lightly put down on the wings of magic. At least she landed lightly. Beside her, Jarrod crashed into the ground with a loud thunk .
    Trees surrounded her. She guessed they were in the forest to the north of the Keep. If she was right, then Shayla would be heading even further north. She turned to where Jarrod lay on the ground.
    “You said you had provisions,” she said, impatient to be moving.
    He picked himself up, his staff still gripped tight in his hand.
    “That was moon magic,” he murmured. “I can feel it running through my blood.”
    “From the Goddess. Now which way do we go?” He appeared dazed, but shook his head and pulled himself together, studying their surroundings for a minute, getting his bearings, then headed off back toward the Keep.
    She thought about ignoring him and going the other way, but she might need his provisions if it took her longer than expected to find Shayla.
    What if they got to the meeting place and her daughter had gone elsewhere? What if the Enforcer found her first? Killed her?
    Freya hurried after Jarrod, weaving through the thick stands of trees, until the stamping of hooves sounded up ahead, and she came to an abrupt halt. Jarrod continued, and after a moment’s hesitation, she followed.
    Two horses were tied up under a tree. A boy stood at their heads, and Jarrod approached him and carried out a murmured conversation. He turned back to Freya. “They’ll be preparing to come after us.
    We must move fast if we want to stay ahead.
    He rummaged in one of the saddlebags, pulled something out, and tossed it to Freya.
    “You won’t be able to ride in that.” He nodded toward her and she glanced down.
    Her cloak had fallen open revealing the red shift, her body visible beneath, pale skin gleaming through the thin silk. She tugged the cloak tight around her but not before she caught the hunger in Jarrod’s eyes. A wave of heat washed through her at his expression, and she frowned. She’d never experienced the tug of desire. Now it radi-30

    Nina Croft
    ated out from that place inside her where she could sense the hum of the newborn magic. She forced the feeling down; she didn’t want to feel anything for this man. Jarrod’s desire might be useful, but her own would be inconvenient.
    She examined the bundle he had tossed her. A pair of pants, rough material, but very welcome.
    Turning away, she dragged them on under the shift. When she looked back, the boy was disappearing into the trees, and Jarrod was readying the horses.
    “Come,” he said, indicating the smaller animal. She was a beautiful creature, dapple-gray, but Freya eyed her dubiously. She’d never ridden before, except for her brief time hanging head down, unconscious over the Enforcer’s saddle. Horses were for rich people, and she had never been that.
    The horse studied her out of dark, liquid eyes and then lowered her head toward her.
    “Her name is Moonlight,” Jarrod said. “She’s a sweet mare. She’ll carry you safely. I’ll help you mount.” She wanted to say she didn’t need help, but it looked a long way up, so she waited, impassive as his large hands