“No. But I want to learn all the same skills.”

“Me, too,” Mara said. Putting her cup down with a clatter, she hopped to her feet. “Can you be an assassin without killing anyone?”

Onora shot her an odd look. “I...don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Is there a name for people who have those skills?” Mara asked.

“Yes. Dangerous,” I said.

Mara rubbed her hands together as a gleam lit her eyes. “Oh, I like that. I want to be dangerous.”

I exchanged a glance with Onora.

“If she’s going to hang out with you and Leif, she should learn how to defend herself,” Onora said.

True. “All right, let’s get started. Father, would you like to learn how to sneak around in the dark?” I asked Esau.

“I’ve been sneaking around in the dark since before you were born,” he said. “How do you think I get those notte flowers for your mother’s perfume? They only bloom in the dead of night, and any bit of light will make them close up tighter than a...er...” He cleared his throat. “If you can navigate the jungle at night without being eaten by a tree leopard or garroted by a necklace snake, then I’d say you don’t need any assassin training.”

“You know, a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed,” I teased.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I see where Leif gets his sense of humor,” Onora said.

* * *

While we waited for Fisk’s messenger to arrive, Onora taught Mara and me a number of skills she’d found helpful.

“If you’re going to be in a lit room for only a short time, then a way to keep your dark-adapted vision is to close one eye when you reach the light. Then, when you return to the shadows, open that eye and you won’t be completely blind,” she explained.

Onora also showed us how to read body language and to move without making too much noise.

“It’s all in keeping your balance and picking up your feet when you walk. Most people are lazy and shuffle. Rubber soles help, as well, if you’re going to wear boots,” she said.

“Why don’t you wear boots?” Mara asked.

“My toes grip better than any sole, and the bottoms of my feet can feel noisy things such as dried leaves or small twigs before I step on them. To me, wearing shoes is like putting gloves on hands. You lose your sensitivity.”

We practiced late at night when there were no other sounds to cover our movements. But we kept our boots on. Onora had been going barefoot for as long as she could remember, and her feet were conditioned to withstand the rough ground and cold air.

“I had to wear boots when I was in the army, but I shucked them whenever possible,” she said.

We taught Mara a number of self-defense moves, as well. The training kept me from worrying too much about Valek and Leif or from imagining all the dire reasons Fisk’s messenger hadn’t arrived yet. After two days of practice, Mara seemed a bit more like her old self. And while the time wasn’t nearly long enough to learn everything or to be truly proficient in anything, it was a start in the right direction.

After we ate breakfast in our rooms on the third morning, Onora asked, “How long are we going to wait for Fisk?”

Good question. “He’s usually reliable, which means something happened at the Citadel and it might be too dangerous for us to return.”

“I can scout ahead and see what’s going on,” she offered.

“Let’s wait another day.” Mara had benefited from the down time, and the rest had helped my father. The bruises were fading, and the lines on his face had smoothed. Plus I knew that once we returned to the Citadel, he would immerse himself in research and neglect his health again.

As I dozed on the couch later that afternoon, loud voices woke me. Onora stood at the door with both her knives drawn. I pulled my switchblade and joined her.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a whisper.

“An argument. Could be nothing. Wait here.” She slipped out the door.

I waited about three heartbeats before following her. Onora crept down the stairs, avoiding all the squeaky spots. She frowned at me when I joined her.

The quarrel grew louder as we descended. By the time we reached the second floor, I recognized the voices. Halfway up the steps to the first-floor landing, the innkeeper stood in front of two men, blocking the way. Impressive, considering one muscular man towered over the slight innkeeper and the other man glowered and fingered the hilt of his sword.

“...not allowed upstairs,” the innkeeper insisted.

We had asked him to keep our presence under wraps as much as possible. Of course, the locals saw us arrive, and we had to shop for supplies. But he had promised not to tell strangers and soldiers about us. Fisk’s people would have no trouble slipping by him, but these two should have known better.

“Idiots,” Onora muttered.

“It’s okay, Keyon,” I said. “They’re friends of ours.”

“Friends?” Janco asked, placing a hand on his chest. “You wound me. I consider us family.”

So happy to see them both, I rushed past Keyon. Ari swept me up into a hug.

Janco beamed. “Fisk and I called it. We knew you’d be here. Ari’s such a worrywart.”

Onora sheathed her blades. “And now everyone in a twenty-mile radius knows we’re here.”

Janco held up his hands. “Not my fault. You know how Ari gets when he’s in his protective bull mode. I’m surprised he didn’t just toss this little fella out of the way.”