Chapters (34)
- Praise for the Series
- Works by Michael J. Sullivan
- About the Book
- Copyright
- World Map
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- Chapter 1: The Twelfth Night
- Chapter 2: The Ragman
- Chapter 3: The Book
- Chapter 4: The Bear Man
- Chapter 5: The Scribe
- Chapter 6: The Truth of His Story
- Chapter 7: The Ferry
- Chapter 8: The Mystic Wood
- Chapter 9: The Greenway Round
- Chapter 10: The Truth About Lies
- Chapter 11: Dibben
- Chapter 12: Unexpected Consequences
- Chapter 13: Merredydd
- Chapter 14: Sephryn
- Chapter 15: Going Home
- Chapter 16: Homecoming
- Chapter 17: The First Minister
- Chapter 18: Birthday
- Chapter 19: The Gamble
- Chapter 20: The Horn
- Chapter 21: The Library
- Chapter 22: The Prophecy
- Chapter 23: A Blizzard in Summer
- Afterword
- Kickstarter Backers
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Farilane found it significant that he interceded just then. These two definitely know each other. But how? Did Virgil speak to the empress dowager and . . . no, Virgil didn’t know Sephryn. But something is going on. Sephryn knew it was me because I arrived with Kile. Her eyes said so. Was she also expecting Sheldon? Didn’t seem that way. It is as if Sheldon is invisible to her. But none of this makes sense because I was the one who decided to come here, and I did so at the last minute. How could she be expecting us?
Farilane drew the note from the book and handed it to Sephryn.
“Have you read this?” the empress dowager asked.
“Only the first couple of lines. I may be a book thief, but I draw the line at reading living people’s correspondence.”
“Thank you,” Sephryn said. “But I think you deserve to hear it. Might even help.”
Help what? Farilane wondered.
Sephryn held the letter a tad farther away than was normal. Apparently, even myr suffered sight problems with age.