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girl, please escort them back to the manor.”
    “Yessir.”
    “Well . . .” Dom slapped his riding gloves against his palm as he watched Snout return to his mount. “I’d be happy to serve as your Punisher. I could pull my punches a bit, and perhaps save you some pain.”
    Typical Dom, always searching for the easiest way out of any problem. Rafi knew he could agree, that his mother would let him choose the Punisher. But it was a point of pride to select someone to dole out the blows—four times as many as he’d unjustly given—who could actually hurt him. Dom was strong for a sixteen-year-old, but he wasn’t the Punisher Rafi had in mind.
    There was a lesson in this, and Rafi wanted his stupidity to teach his younger brother the cost of mistakes. “If we don’t uphold the law, then no one will.”
    “It’s archaic. Can’t we pay her off?”
    “It’s honorable,” Rafi corrected. “No man should be able to take advantage of the weak. I’m going to ask Captain Alouette to serve as my Punisher.”
    Dom cringed. “I didn’t expect to take your title, but if you’re offering it up . . .”
    “I’ll survive.”
    “I’ll pray for you.”
    I’ll need it.

Chapter 9

    Jacaré
    “What is he doing here?” Pira pointed to the old man, who rocked his chair back on its hind legs and rested his boots on the hearth. “He’s been exiled . ”
    “Good to see you, too, Pira. Thanks for the warm welcome,” Texugo said as he tossed another piece of kindling onto the blaze.
    The light cast an orange glow onto the old man’s pure white hair, as if it had caught fire. Jacaré almost laughed at the thought. Texugo had always been a hothead.
    Adding Pira to the mix would be like throwing dry grass on a wildfire. Jacaré rubbed a hand over his shorn scalp, already doubting his plans and the inclusion of his sister. While great in a fight, an excellent hunter and scout, and generally trustworthy, she was a difficult person to manage. With both Pira and Tex aboard . . .
    Pira gasped when the other person at the small table pulled back his hood. Whirling, she stepped in front of Jacaré.
    “What is going on? Are these two even allowed in the same room together? If you’re in trouble, then Tex is someone who might be able to help.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “But he is practically on the Mage Council. Don’t you think he’ll run back to his grandmother and report exactly what’s going on here?”
    “Leão can be trusted.”
    “Leão is what . . . twelve years old?”
    The boy cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I’m almost eighteen. I make my own decisions, even if they’re contrary to the Council’s opinions.”
    “You can make decisions all by yourself without Grandma Amelia holding your hand?” Pira scoffed. “My, what a grown-up boy you are.”
    Jacaré grabbed his sister’s upper arm, squeezing hard enough that she couldn’t ignore it. “It’s still early enough for you to leave, Pira.” He yanked her toward the door. “We can do this without a fourth.”
    “Do what without a fourth?” Pira pulled her arm free.
    “If you’re in, no more commentary. I’m High Captain and you will follow orders.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Agreed?”
    Pira shot a dark look at the two other men in the kitchen. “Mother Lua knows you’re going to need my help.”
    Such a typical response, always needing to score the last point. Jacaré held his tongue and let her sit down at the table between the two men.
    “The magical barrier that separates our land from Santarem is in danger of falling,” Jacaré said. His sister’s eyes grew wide as the words sank in. “For the magic to remain stable, it has to have an anchor on either side of the wall. On this side, it’s magically tied to Amelia and the Mage Council. On the Santarem side, it is tied to the line of kings. Sixteen years ago the king was murdered and the bond was passed to his closest living relative—an