“That makes three attacks now, right?”

“Three in three years, except they’re gettin’ closer together.”

“Meaning…”

“One year between the first and the second, nine months between the second and third.”

“Could be a coincidence?”

“Mebbe, mebbe not. The fourth attack—”

“If there is one,” Cainan interjected.

“If there is one,” Mick corrected, “will either confirm or reject the pattern. Either way, I’m not plannin’ on bein’ around to find out.”

“You’re leaving?” Cainan’s heart sank a little. Mick had been one of the few bright spots in this place. Whenever he was on duty, he could count on a little pleasant conversation, as well as the occasional bit of contraband food.

“Can’t risk it havin’ a little one to look out fer now. Abigail is countin’ on me, even if she don’t know it yet. I’ll git a job in town, well away from snappin’ vines and branch-throwin’ trees. Like spears they were!”

“You hid in the barrel again, didn’t you?”

“Ain’t no shame in it. Was my survival instincts kickin’ in!”

Cainan chuckled. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“That makes two of us. I almost wished I was one of the prisoners safe and sound in a cell. Oops, sorry again!”

“It’s fine, Mick. I know you don’t mean anything by it.”

“Me and my big mouth. Me missus always says one day it’ll git me in more trouble than a mouse in cat territory. Anyway, I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Comman Dur pays better than I’ll be able to make in town, but no amount of coin is worth a life, is it?”

“No, it’s not. And, for what it’s worth, I…I understand.”

“It’s worth a lot. But I’m still sorry.”

“No apology needed. I’ll always count you as a friend. A most unexpected friend in a most unexpected place.”

“Feelin’s mutual, believe me. I deal with too many rats in this place. Ye are not one of them.”

“Take care of yourself and the whole family.”

“I will. That’s a promise.”

“And thanks again for the book.”

“Yer welcome. I hope ye find whatever it is yer lookin’ fer in them pages.”

“Me too, Mick. Me too.”

With that, the man was gone. It almost felt like turning a page to another chapter in the story of Cainan’s life. What would this chapter bring? While he couldn’t predict the future, Mick’s tales about the inexplicable attacks by Lostwood didn’t sit well with him.

Narcissi was growing restless.

He propped open the slot in the door with a rock so that a sliver of torchlight sliced into the cell, and then eased down into the driest corner he could find. Only then did he crack open the old book, which probably hadn’t been opened in a hundred years. And then, straining to see the words in the dim lighting, he began to read, starting with the handwritten inscription he knew he’d find just inside the cover.

I’m sorry, my love.

Your Cora.

Thirty-eight years earlier