The soldiers stood languidly around the stable, listening. “Forgive me, Lady Mage, for not keeping an eye on her,” Captain Caldren said, “but I am the Captain of the Guard, not the Mistress of Servants.”

Leisa felt her face redden. She had to say something to lighten this overreaction. “Those men are in there fighting each other over gold,” she said, pointing toward the side door leading into the inn. “They have armor and swords—they’re just the sort of men we’re looking for, and I found them—“

She was cut off by the Lady Mage. “Silence, child.” The woman was outwardly serene for the most part, but her breathing was too tense for her to be anything but calm on the inside.

Leisa stepped back, fingers tangling behind her. She glanced up at Jasen looking over the edge from the hat loft above, eyes wide, mouth open.

“I told you to stay with the soldiers, not to start common room brawls like a slattern in some tavern.”

Was Leisa as outwardly taken aback as she felt? She was sure of it, face even hotter now. If that was what the Lady Mage thought of her, then there was little chance she would ever find herself within the Hall of Mages, as proper as they were. She didn’t see why reputation had anything to do with it, not that hers was tarnished in any way—at least she knew that much.

“She’s not to blame.” Leisa and everyone else in the stable turned sharply toward the new voice.

Her heart skipped a beat. Not because she was besotted with the strange man who had seemingly just saved her from a great deal of trouble, but because the Lady Mage had seen him fighting. The fight she thought Leisa had started.

I did start that fight, she told herself reluctantly. Her heart skipped another beat, wondering if he would ask her for that dance in front of the Lady Mage. Leisa cursed quietly.

The Mage’s eyes narrowed. “You.”

“Yes, my lady,” the man said. “Falan Nogal, at your service.” He took a small bow.

“How long have you been standing there?”

The man who called himself Falan Nogal smiled. “Long enough to know this”—he gestured about—“isn’t a caravan of merchants. If you are in need of a good pair of swords we can—“

“Silence,” Lady Casen said. “We are not looking for tavern brawlers, ruffian.”

“I assure you, my lady,” Falan said, “I am much more than the average ‘tavern brawler,’ though a ruffian I may be.” He smiled again.

The mage scowled. “Captain...”

Captain Caldren moved up beside her. “Yes, my lady?”

“Remove this...” she looked Falan up and down. “...remove this filth from my sight.”

Leisa crossed her arms, her face getting hot with anger as she kicked a clump of dried horse dung a few feet.

“My lady,” the Captain affirmed as he and several of his soldiers began to bare their arms.

Falan raised his hands. “Very well,” he said. “I take the hint and will be on my way.” He began to turn for the door when he added, “If you should change your mind and require my sword, and that of my friend’s, I will be staying at this inn for the next few days.” He bowed again and then shut the door behind him.

“He doesn’t sound like a tavern brawling ruffian to me,” Jasen said after a moment of silence. “He could be a Serafe for all we know.”

The captain glared up at the stable boy. “Shut up, Jalen.” He turned to the rest of the men. “Go to sleep. All of you! We have hard traveling in the morning.”

The soldiers moved about eyeing mounds of hay as if trying to decide which might be less uncomfortable. Or maybe less flea-infested.

Lady Casen turned to the captain, her tone calm, as if nothing were out of place. “Were you able to find any help, Captain?”

The greying man shook his head. “I am sorry, Lady Mage, I was not successful.”

She nodded, all placid calmness. “Go to sleep, Captain. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lady,” the captain said, then turned toward the ladder leading to the loft.

Leisa uncrossed her arms to speak, but Lady Casen ignored her, making her way for the door. “Come, child,” the mage commanded without turning to look at her.

She would probably have words for Leisa after they were in their room.