The village felt different to him. The evening had an edge, a tension to the air. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. He felt a nervous energy in the trees and an apprehension rising from the earth and rock. Before Avempartha, he had considered it intuition, but now he wondered. Elves drew power from nature. They understood the river’s voice and the chatter of the leaves.

Did that pass to me?

He stood motionless, his eyes panning the road, the shops, the houses, and the dark places between. He was hoping to spot Hadrian returning, but felt something else.

“The cabbage goes in last,” Arbor was telling Arista, her voice muffled by walls. “And cut it up into smaller pieces than that. Here, let me show you.”

“Sorry,” Arista said. “I don’t have a lot of experience in a kitchen.”

“It must be wonderful to have servants. Dun could never make that much money here. There aren’t enough people to buy his bread.”

Royce focused on the street. The sun had set and the twilight haze had begun to mask the village. He was looking at the candlemaker’s shop when he spotted movement by the livery. When he looked closer, nothing was there. It could have been Hobbie coming to check the animals, but the fact that the image had vanished so quickly made him think otherwise.

Royce slipped into the shadows behind Armigil’s brew shop and crept toward the livery. He entered from the rear, climbing to the loft. A fresh pile of hay cushioned his movements and muted his approach. In the dark, he could clearly see the back of a figure standing by the doorway, peering at the street.

“Move and die,” Royce whispered softly in his ear.

The man froze. “Duster?” he asked.

Royce turned the man to face him. “Etcher, what are you doing here?”

“The meeting has been set. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”

“That was fast.”

“We got word back this morning and I rode hard to get here. The meeting is set for tonight at the ruins of Amberton Lee. We need to get going if we’re going to make it in time.”

“We can’t leave right now. Hadrian is missing.”

“We can’t wait. Gaunt’s people are suspicious—they think it could be an imperial trap. They’ll back off if we don’t stick to the plan. We need to leave now or the opportunity will pass.”

Royce silently cursed to himself. It was his own fault for not having chased after Hadrian that afternoon. He almost had. Now there was no telling where he was. Etcher was right—the mission had to come first. He would leave word for Hadrian with the Bakers and get the princess to her meeting with Gaunt.

The moist, steamy smell of the boiling cabbage and wood smoke filled the bakery. The candles Arista lit flickered with the opening of the door. Arbor was stirring the pot while Arista set the table. Both looked up, startled.