As they argued, Ashyn glanced at her hands, one holding the dagger, the other the lantern. She was armed and she had a light. She could fight or she could run.

Her sister would attack the moment she got the opportunity, whatever the odds. How many games of capture-my-lord had Ashyn lost after composing the perfect strategy, only to have her sister make some bold, mad move?

Now, watching the boy and his uncle argue, Ashyn wanted to make that bold move. They were distracted, having decided she wasn’t a threat.

As she considered it, a drop fell from the treetops, hitting a leaf with a soft plop. The droplet shone red in the lantern light.

“Blood,” she said.

The two stopped arguing.

Ronan walked over just as another drop fell from above. He touched the leaf.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “It’s blood.” He peered into the dark branches. “There must be something up there.”

Ronan took her lantern. While he lifted it overhead, the light blinded them to everything beyond its glow. His uncle snatched the lantern and held it up. It reached a little higher, but that didn’t help.

“There’s nothing there,” his uncle said.

Another drop fell, landing squarely on the lantern and dripping red down the glass.

“It’s from a dead squirrel,” he said. “Or a bird.”

He handed the lantern back to Ashyn, who stared after him as he walked away.

“Is he mad?” she whispered to Ronan. “There are no birds here. No squirrels. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Ronan said. “We saw things last night, and again today. In the forest. Shadows. Noises. After the blood moon.”

“Blood moon?”

“When the moon turns red. It signifies—”

“—a breach in the spirit world. I know.” She remembered last night’s cloud-covered moon, the tinge of red in the sky. Then she shook her head. “If there was truly a blood moon, someone would have noticed. Moria and I have to perform a ritual.”

“We saw a blood moon last night. Didn’t we, Uncle?”

At first, his uncle pretended not to hear. When Ronan repeated the question, the older man shrugged.

“You said you saw it, too,” Ronan pressed.

“Then perhaps I did. It’s a nanny’s tale. Doesn’t signify.”

“I think it—”

“Doesn’t signify. We need to get the girl to her camp. Move out.”

Ashyn looked around the camp. A clearing had been cut in the forest, and four small tents had been erected for the villagers. Sleeping blankets lay on the bare ground for the guards. In the middle, the campfire still smoldered; the smell of it had led them the final stretch. Packs lay against tents. But that was all she saw: objects. No people.

“Must’ve gone looking for the girl.” Ronan’s uncle stamped through the clearing. “She was late. They went searching.”

“All of them?” Ronan said.

“She’s the Seeker. Valuable.”