These were the thoughts running through her head as she stole from the novice sleeping quarters through the night. She knew she was only trying to justify a bit of bad behavior, but right now it was what she needed to hear.

She stopped to listen for any signs that she wasn’t alone, her breath coming in waves, as though she’d run a great distance and not just jogged across a bit of grass. Lady Brenner’s house was directly ahead, but something made her turn in the opposite direction, where the decrepit little hut stood. The one no one was supposed to go anywhere near. The Third Rule of New Dawn, according to the others.

A sound pricked her ears. Was it coming from the hut? Or was it just one of the forest’s many night sounds, some nocturnal critter scurrying through the undergrowth, going about its business?

She hesitated, fighting all kinds of awful instincts, none of which made a lick of sense. And then, against her better judgment, she turned in the opposite direction and made for the windowless structure, which was painted with shards of moonslight, a monster’s teeth crunching down on its wooden frame.

She melted into the hut’s shadows when she reached it, eyes flicking back furtively toward the sleeping quarters, searching for any signs that her nighttime activities had woken any of her fellow novices. Nothing moved, though she could hear the telltale sound of someone snoring from inside the men’s bunk—Gruff or Julio, most likely.

Another sound pulled her back to the small hut. A small scratching sound, so faint she could almost believe her overzealous imagination was playing tricks on her, except…there! It arose again, closer this time. Why weren’t they allowed inside this hut? Was there treasure inside? Or something even more valuable, like an entire storeroom filled with bloodfruit or the hanging carcasses of bloodsquirrels?

She made her way along the hut’s exterior wall until she was directly even with the source of the scratching, which she could now discern was coming from inside the hut. She raised a hand, knuckles facing the wall. She paused, biting her lip, the scratching sound continuing while she hesitated.

And then tapped. Just three light raps of her knuckles on the wood, so soft that the sound wouldn’t carry more than a few feet in any direction. The scratching stopped suddenly, and Perfidy held her breath, though she wasn’t sure why. And then…

Tap, tap, tap.

It was like an echo of her own tapping, falling into the same timbre and cadence. But every instinct told her that it was more than just an echo.

It was a reply.

Exhaling slowly, her heart beating frantically in her chest, she tapped again, changing the rhythm slightly. Tap, tap…tap, tap.

The answer came almost immediately, mirroring her own pattern. Tap, tap…tap, tap.