Cyprus gave Frieda one final embrace before she stepped onto the horse box to her mission. She tucked her head against his broad chest, feeling small as a filly in his arms. He ran his hoof through her mane, loosening all the ever-tangled fairy knots.

  “Don’t be afraid, Frieda. This will be no big deal,” Cyprus said. “A little rebel group in the Norfolk forest? Much easier than that mare you had to take down.”

  Frieda sighed and stepped away from him. “It’s not that I think it’ll be hard. I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “Frieda, are you ready?” Queenie called out.

  “Coming!” she shouted.

  “Good luck. I know you’ll be perfect,” Cyprus told her.

  She climbed aboard the horse box and sat across from Queenie, tucking her baggage under the seat.

  “Do you really believe that this is going to be as easy as they say it is?” Frieda asked her.

  Queenie laughed. “Frieda, this is going to be a walk in the park. These folks are incredibly disorganized, and their attack patterns make no sense. After Eden’s case, it should be a breeze.”

  “I just find it odd that Glacier wasn’t able to free himself. He’s got magic of his own, doesn’t he?” Frieda said.

  “Yes, but he hasn’t got any formal training like you and I. He’s as defenseless as they are, with his reckless practice,” Queenie told her. “Don’t worry about it too much. This is your best opportunity to get some shut-eye.”

  …

  The sky was pitch black by the time they reached their destination, but Frieda hadn’t slept a wink for the entire drive through the woods. Reading through the case file hadn’t quelled her worries. Something seemed off about the whole group. None of them had much in common, and Queenie was right about their mission style. At times, it even seemed that Laci and the Friesian stallion were at odds with each other. She had been assured that neither of them would be at the mansion, but she had learned a long time ago that Nighthawk didn’t always tell the truth. For all she knew, Laci could be standing on the front steps waiting for her.

  The horse box shuddered to a halt, and Frieda threw her breastplate over her shoulders. The back doors swung open, and horses quickly began clamoring down from the horse box. Martis and Tiede were at the head of the pack, swishing their tails and tossing their heads in anticipation. Two rabbits mounted up on them with tranquilizer guns in hand and took the reins, tugging back on them messily. Frieda was glad she didn’t have any extra weight to drag around. She tucked herself between them, and they pressed themselves against her protectively. It was written in all of their protocols. She was their most powerful weapon, one they couldn’t afford to lose.

  “Good luck, Frieda,” Queenie shouted after her.

  They took off at a strong trot, dipping down into the treeless valley below. As the woods began to open up, Frieda raised her head to get a better look. The “residence” they had described in the folder didn’t even come close to what she saw.

  “Oh my Epona,” she breathed.

  The mansion was at least three stories tall, with several whimsical towers reaching up from the top. A huge stained glass window was set in the center, and heavy carved oak doors guarded the front. Ivy crawled all over the walls, climbing every beam and banister. They stepped up to the stone steps, tapping the snow from their feet. Martis’ rider aimed his pistol at the center of the door.

  “Hold your fire,” Frieda said. “I haven’t even tried the door yet.”

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  The rabbit laughed. “She thinks it will be unlocked!”

  She tugged hard on one of the metal rings on the door, and it wrenched open with a little force. There was no latch on the edge, no way to lock the door.

  “I had a hunch,” she said, stepping into the dark parlor.

  She clicked her flashlight on and waved it around. Everything looked old-much older than she expected. She felt her way down the velvet chaise lounges, scanned the fountain tucked in the alcove between the stairs. This was no ramshackle house thrown together by a group of runaways.

  “It looks like it’s been here for years. Services should’ve found this way before this new group got a hold of it,” Frieda said.

  She turned and opened the next door, and was surprised to find an opulent ballroom decorated floor to ceiling with flowers. They were starting to wilt, and their faded petals were piled in bunches on the floor. A shiny object on the floor glinted from the light of her flashlight, and she picked it up. It was the studded crown of a wedding veil, with a cascading piece of tulle hanging on the front. She showed Martis and Tiede her find.

  “I think someone was married here,” she said.

  “Nice place,” Tiede’s rider said. “I’d get married here. I mean, if it wasn’t an illegal hideout, and I wasn’t already married.”

  She discovered the grand piano in the corner, and brushed the dust off the wooden key lid. It was mostly handcrafted, with custom hammers and detailed carving. There was a wooden board in the front, inscribed with burned lettering that read:

  DUKE’S PIANO. CONSTRUCTED 1564.

  “That’s impossible,” Frieda whispered, staring down at the date. “That’s almost five hundred years ago.”

  She kept working her way through the house, and wove her way up into the library. There were huge tapestries and paintings of horses all over the walls, and various relics stored in glass cases. In the center of the room, there was an odd item on display-an old cavalry bridle with a hulking and sharp copper bit dangling off of it. A piece of frayed blue string was tied to the cheekpiece. Frieda looked at it intensely, curious about who wore such a device, who held the reins, and most of all, why?

  She turned and leafed through some of the bookshelves curiously. All the dates on the texts were just as old, if not older, than the piano. A few went back thousands of years. She slid one that caught her eye out from the row.

  ON THE PRACTICE OF DARK MAGIC. ONYX, 1560.

  She turned around to make sure no one had followed her in, and flipped it open. Her heart started beating faster as she scanned the pages.

  Shadow Bending.

  Reading Thoughts.

  Mind Control.

  She snapped the book shut and held it close to her chest, breath shaking. Could her power be much more than Nighthawk had trained her to believe?

  “Frieda! There’s something you need to see,” Martis’ rider called out.

  She took the book with her and followed him outside, to a little garden patio behind the house. There were hoofprints in the snow leading off into the distance, and she judged they must be a few hours old by their depth.

  “Let’s head back up to the truck and trace these. They couldn’t have gone far on foot,” she said.

  They stepped back into the truck, and she tucked the book in her bag under her seat as she sat, concealing it from Queenie.

  “We need to head south. Our little friends flew the coop,” she told her.

  Queenie nodded and ducked into the front of the horse box to talk to the driver. They were on the move in no time. Frieda fidgeted with her seatbelt uncomfortably.

  “Queenie, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. How could they have known we were coming?” she asked.

  Queenie cocked her head. “They must have heard the truck coming.”

  “No way. They left hours ago. This was a planned escape,” Frieda said.

  The Fell pony sighed and sunk into her seat. “Frieda, not everything is some grand conspiracy. Maybe someone tipped them off. It’s not important. Just find them.”

  The truck slammed to a stop, sending Martis and Tiede scrambling for balance, but Frieda was expecting it. She sat tight.

  “You’re absolutely right. And that’s not Folke’s Sea of Ash waiting for me outside,” she said, already walking toward the back doors.

  She wrenched them open and jumped off the back artfully, swishing her tail in anticipation. Martis and Tiede’s feet crunched in the snow beside her as they turned to the front of the horse box to meet their match.