“You’ll certainly be welcome back.” Pitte took her arm lightly and led her down the wide hall. “It would be a pleasure for Rowena and me to discuss our collection with someone who understands and appreciates it.”

He turned toward another archway. “I hope you’ll understand and appreciate this particular piece of it.”

Over another fireplace that roared with flame was a painting that towered to the ceiling.

The colors were so vivid, so rich, the style so bold and strong, that Malory’s art lover’s heart took one fast leap. The portrait was of three women, young, beautiful, in flowing gowns of sapphire, of ruby, of emerald. The one in blue, with golden curls rioting to her waist, sat on a bench that circled a pool. She held a small gold harp.

Seated on the silver tiles at her feet, the girl in red had a scroll and quill in her lap and her hand on her sister’s—for surely they were sisters—knee. Beside them, the girl in green stood, a chubby black puppy in the crook of her arm and a short silver sword at her hip. A heartbreak of flowers spilled around them.

There were trees with jeweled fruit dripping from the branches, and in the cerulean sky both birds and faeries were on the wing.

Enthralled, Malory was halfway across the room for a closer look when her heart gave another, harder knock. The girl in blue had her face.

Younger, she thought as she came to an abrupt halt. Certainly more beautiful. The skin was luminous, the eyes deeper, bluer, the hair more luxurious and romantic. But there was no mistaking the power of the resemblance, nor, she saw as she steadied herself, the resemblance between the others in the portrait and the other two guests at Warrior’s Peak.

“Magnificent work. A master’s work,” Malory said, and was amazed at how calm her voice sounded through the buzzing in her ears.

“They look like us.” There was wonder in the words as Zoe moved beside Malory. “How can they?”

“Good question.” And suspicion in Dana’s. “How did the three of us come to be used as models for what is, obviously, a portrait of the three sisters in the story you just told us?”

“It was painted before you were born. Before your parents, your grandparents, and those who sired them were born.” Rowena walked toward the portrait, stood below it with her hands folded at her waist. “Its age can be verified through tests. Isn’t that so, Malory?”

“Yes. Its approximate age can be authenticated, but whatever its age, you haven’t answered Zoe’s question.”

The smile that spread on Rowena’s face seemed to hold both approval and amusement. “No, I haven’t. What else do you see in the painting?”

Malory reached in her purse, took out a pair of black-framed, rectangular glasses. She slipped them on and made a more thorough study.

“A key, in the right corner of the sky. It seems to be a bird until you look closely. A second one there, on the branch of a tree, almost hidden by the leaves and fruit. And the third, just visible under the surface of the pool. There’s a shadow there, in the trees. In the form of a man, maybe a woman. Just the hint of something dark watching them. Another shadow, just sliding onto the silver tile at the edge. A snake. Ah, and here, in the far background.”