Fear sinks into my stomach even as my curiosity heightens. My instincts urge me to run, but that twisted power coaxes me closer. It feels like claws teasing at my throat, even as it whispers of dark promises. I clench my fingers around the fabric of my pants, disturbed by the sudden desire to rush toward that closed wooden door even as the familiar fear of the Dead Wood closes around my lungs.

A shadow passes over the cobbled path behind us. It’s brief, fast for a creature of that size, but I’m left with the impression of something massive, with multiple legs. Theyen’s face pales. He grabs my wrist, his fingers squeezing. Our gazes meet. A moment of understanding passes between us.

We stand our ground, facing the only exit, and await the beast.

Ronin appears from around the curved path. I suck in a sharp breath and scan the empty space behind him, but nothing appears. Whatever else had been there is gone. He’s alone.

Ronin’s glare impales me like ice between my ribs. He asks in a cold, quiet voice, “What are you doing here?”

Each word is clearly articulated, his glacial rage as oppressive as the magic emanating from the door at the opposite end of the garden.

Somehow, I manage to speak. “Exploring. The castle grounds are fascinating and speak well of its many years.”

“Is that so?” he asks with that same deadly calm.

“It is. Do you make a habit of sneaking up on your guests and scaring the wits out of them?”

He steps forward until we’re mere paces apart. “I have a feeling that you are not so easily undone.”

My throat is so dry that my tongue feels like sand against the roof of my mouth. But I force my lips into a smile.

He tilts his head at Theyen. “Hlau Theyen. It would be in your best interest to avoid this part of the castle from now on. Both of you.”

Back in my rooms, I fill in Saengo on what happened. If I’d been uncertain before, there’s no longer any doubt that Ronin keeps his familiar back there. But no familiar should be able to exist in the Dead Wood without contracting the rot, so how is he doing it?

Standing directly beside me, Theyen couldn’t sense the power there. As my dreams remind me on a nightly basis, I am attuned to souls, including those trapped in the Dead Wood. It’s the specific nature of my craft—like a song only souls can hear.