Barthol shrugged. “I don’t see the harm. It is but a dagger.”

And one dagger would not help them against so many. Leaving it with Moria was more a statement than a concession—even if they were armed, they could not escape.

Ronan moved forward. “As long as you’re handing out weapons, I had a blade—”

“You’ll get them when you leave. Which will be soon.”

“Leave?” Moria said.

“Yes, I know, you just got here,” Barthol said. “I’m sure you’d love to stay, but we need you to take a message to the emperor.”

A moment of silence. Moria broke it. “What message?”

Barthol took an envelope from under his jacket. “A sealed missive for the emperor’s eyes only. If the seal is broken or tampered with in any way, we’ll find out. We have eyes in court.”

“Then get them to deliver your message.”

Gavril shifted as if he knew why they wouldn’t. Ashyn did, too. She had read enough stories about the court to realize that Barthol was referring to spies, who would never reveal themselves by handing notes to the emperor.

“Would you rather stay here?” Barthol asked Moria.

“I’d rather know what the blazes is going on.”

Barthol laughed. “Quick with your blade and quick with your tongue. I’d be inclined to make you an offer of employment, Keeper, if I thought you’d entertain it. The message is for the emperor only. However, because it might speed your steps, I will share part of it with you: the stakes. Fail to deliver this note—or tamper with it—and every child from your village dies.”

Silence. Even Moria didn’t speak.

Barthol continued. “What you saw in Edgewood was only a demonstration. If the emperor does not agree to our demands, this lovely town—and all its people—will suffer the same fate.”

It was Ashyn who found her voice first. “You mean the . . .”

“Shadow stalkers. Yes, that’s what they were. They wait just beyond the town walls, as the good governor can attest.”

The governor looked as if he might be sick. Fyren walked over and kicked his leg. “Come now, old man, tell the children what happened.”

“It was . . .” The governor swallowed. “A traveling party. A few warriors and their families. The shadow stalkers set upon them at dusk. Our people were . . .” He paused now. “Taken from us.”

“Now, governor, be truthful,” Fyren said. “We didn’t take them. We brought them back. Right here to Fairview. The next night.”

The governor grabbed the sides of his chair, as if he might launch himself at Fyren. Two armed men stepped forward. The governor lowered himself and turned to the captives.

“They brought them, as shadow stalkers, to show us what they had become. To show me what my son and his family . . .” He could go no further.