“Have you hit any of them since working here?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re good. Come on, you’re needed up front.”

The three men stood in front of the first set of locked doors. Fanned out behind them were nine women disguised as guards. Together they represented the first shift change of the evening. Hopefully the men on the other side wouldn’t look too close. The other two thousand plus penitents waited out of sight. They didn’t make a sound.

Odd knocked on the door at the appropriate time. The panel slid back. Melina grabbed my hand.

“Yeah?” a voice asked.

“The princesses are secure,” Odd said.

Oh, please.

“Who thought of that code?” the guy grumbled, but he unlocked the door.

When it swung open, Odd stepped forward. “Brother Quain thought we should be nicer to the ladies.”

“These aren’t ladies, they’re—”

Odd grabbed him by the throat. “Careful what you say.”

The women surged forward. The replacement guards had been waiting in the narrow hallway just behind the guy dangling from Odd’s fist. A cry rippled through them. While they didn’t have swords, they had their reeds and had a little more notice than their colleagues inside. However, a few swayed on their feet, staring sleepily at the strangely quiet ruckus around them. Odd must have laced their supper with my powder.

Instructing Melina to keep out of the way of the fighting, I entered the fray to zap a guard or two. During one foray, a guard hooked his arm around my neck.

“Stop, or I’ll kill her,” he cried.

No one listened to him. I touched his hand, sending waves of pain into his body. He yelped and sank to his knees, bringing me down with him. Unable to reach the sweet spot, I called for help. Melina and four women pried him off of me and held him so I could knock him out.

By that time, the others had been neutralized. I touched the remaining guards.

“Weapons?” Fydelia asked.

“We stashed a half dozen in the break room down the hall, but there are more once we get past the next barrier,” Odd said.

All good. And no sign of Jael.

Fydelia and her group followed Odd. I glanced behind at the lines of women. A few panted from the effort, a few sported cuts and bruises, and a few grinned with vicious delight while the rest appeared nervous. No one said a word. All those days praying in silence had been the perfect training.

Now armed, Fydelia signaled us to follow her and Odd. We crept along the hallway until we reached another set of locked double doors. Fydelia swept her hand out and the women behind me and Melina formed one line, pressing against the left wall.

Taking up positions to either side of the doors, Odd, Fydelia, and the five ladies with the swords waited. And waited. And waited.