“They can look like anything: a person, an animal, even a tree. But to be one, you need to be capable of that kind of magic, and Jancy isn’t. The Skin Changers do teach her how to fight with swords and daggers and just her bare hands. And it’s been pretty clear for the last couple of books that Jancy does have a magical talent. But so far it hasn’t been revealed.”

“Okay.” Ajay was more or less following.

“And at the end of the last book, the king died, just like in the prophecy. But it wasn’t clear if Jancy caused his death, although she was blamed for it. The prophecy, like all prophecies, is subject to interpretation. And parts still haven’t been fulfilled. Readers really want to know what’s going to happen next.”

Ajay nodded. “Even I know that that Haldon guy is late turning in the last one in the series. Is that why you’re listening to that old book—because there aren’t any new ones?”

Her blue eyes sparked. “I don’t ever get tired of it. There’s always some new detail. And it’s not really his fault it’s late. Eyes of the Forest is going to be the last in the series. Bob’s going to have to tie everything up and answer all the questions he’s raised in the other books. Who’s going to win control of the kingdom and the magical mirror? Will the winged unicorns choose to fight with humans in the final battle against the Armies of the Night? Will Prince Orwen really help Jancy fight the undead, or will he betray her and join the Dark Emperor? And is he even really King Tristan’s son?” Bridget’s words sped up. “And who is Jancy’s true love—Prince Orwen or Rowan, the leader of the peasant rebellion?”

Ajay tried to hold on to the pieces he had followed. “If their father is the same guy, isn’t Prince Orwen really Jancy’s half brother?” Before she could answer, he moved on. “Orwen and Rowan? Orwen and Rowan?” The two names were nearly identical. “How can you keep them straight?”

She looked defensive. Ajay realized, too late, that he had struck a nerve. “You try naming literally thousands of characters. It’s not easy.”

Something she’d said had been nagging him. “Wait a minute. Go back. You said some guy named Bob had to tie up everything with this last book. Aren’t they written by R. M. Haldon?”

Now the color spread from her cheeks to the rest of her face. “R. M. stands for Robert Mark. But he goes by Bob.”

“You almost sound like you know him. Doesn’t he live somewhere around here?” Ajay had seen Haldon in magazines and on TV. He was your standard middle-aged white guy, except that he always wore a violet silk scarf around his neck.