“You think I don’t know that?” she said. “Why do you think Morgan and I—”

He turned away. “Don’t. It’s because you and Morgan broke the rules that we’re in this mess. You created what he feared would come to pass.”

As if she’d not already thought of that. As if she’d not lost countless nights of sleep, tossing and turning over that very notion.

“Come on,” she said, in that moment close to hating him. “The sooner we start, the sooner you can get back to Elvado and your dear friend, Lady Martain.”

He gave her a sharp look at that, but didn’t reply.

Mouth dry, palms sweaty, Barl struck out towards the border. The original boundary warding was mostly unravelled, but just enough of the incant remained to guide her to the precise place where Dorana ended and Brantone began. Falling into step beside her, Remmie roamed his gaze around them, seeking the first sickening signs of mage-mist, and danger. After fifty paces he took hold of her arm and halted them both.

“Let this be close enough. I don’t want to stir any trouble with our neighbours.”

She resented being handled, but he did have a point. They’d not been noticed yet… and it would be best if they were never noticed at all.

Sinking to her knees, she fumbled the first wardstone out of her satchel. Dug a shallow hole in the sparsely grassed dirt before her, half-buried the marble-sized chunk of dull grey crystal, then took a few deep breaths to compose herself.

“All right, Remmie,” she whispered. “Cross your fingers.”

To be sure, she recited the incant from her notes, not trusting to memory. As the weight of potent syllables gathered, she felt the sluggish rise of power in her blood. Felt her fingertips tingle as she inscribed the morning air with sigils. So many. Her head started to spin.

When the last syllable was uttered and the forty-ninth sigil burned the air, she fell forward onto her hands, gasping. Remmie dropped to a crouch beside her.

“Did it work? Barl, did it—”

“I don’t know,” she said hoarsely. “And I won’t, not for certain, until the last wardstone is set and I try to trigger the incant. But…” Shaking, she sat back and blotted her sweaty face with her linen sleeve. “I think it’s all right. It felt smooth enough, and all of the sigils caught.”

He handed her a kerchief. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Oh.” She dabbed, then looked at the red spots on the blue cotton. “Well. I suppose it could be worse.” After handing back the kerchief, she let him help her to standing then stared down at the incanted wardstone. “So. One down, twenty-four to go.”

“Barl…” Remmie’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Can you do this? Are you strong enough?”