“That young Druid who bumped into me in the hallway? That wasn’t an accident. He gave me a note; I have it in my pocket. He pressed it into my hand while he was helping me get up. He didn’t want Shadea and the others to see what he was doing. He took a big chance.”

“Do you know him? Is he Grianne’s friend?”

“I don’t know who is or isn’t her friend at this point.”

“Have you looked at the note?”

He shook his head. “I was waiting until we got away from the others. I didn’t want to take a chance that they might see me looking at it.” He paused, looking past her to the stone walls. “Walk with me over to the window. Stand close so we can shield what we’re doing.”

He felt her hand press against his back. “Do you think they might be watching as well as listening? Here?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know. But he wasn’t about to chance it. The safety of his sister and his son were at stake, and some among the Druids might not have their best interests at heart, no matter what they said.

They moved over to the window. The sun was setting on the horizon, a bloodred orb hung against a cerulean sky. Shadows had lengthened into dark pools, and the moon was just visible along the northeast horizon. The air outside felt cool and fresh on their faces as they leaned out, resting their arms on the stone sill, hunched close together with their backs to the room.

Bek slipped the scrap of paper from its hiding place and laid it in front of them, keeping his hands cupped about it. They bent close. Four words were printed on it in block letters.

DO NOT TRUST THEM.

That was all. Bek studied the note a moment more, glanced at Rue, then pocketed it anew. When he had a chance to do so, he would destroy it. But he would have to be careful how he handled it. Druids could reconstruct messages from nothing more than ashes.

“Clearly, not everyone is in agreement about what has happened to my sister,” he said. “The young Druid, for one.”

“Maybe others, as well.”

He laid his hand on her arm. “We can’t trust anyone.”

She nodded, her eyes shifting to find his. “What are we going to do?”

He smiled. “I was hoping you could tell me.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. “I really was.”

In bed that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, comforted by the darkness and the silence, they talked about it.

“Do you think they are listening still?” She said it with an edge to her voice that suggested what she might do to them if she discovered they were.

He stroked her hair. “I think they have better things to do.”