The cold clamminess on her forehead spread over the rest of her skin in a sickly pale. She covered her stomach with her hands as if she could somehow steady the sway. Her entire body was in revolt—in panic—at the thought of never seeing him again. But what else could she do? What other choice did she have? She couldn’t risk what she was doing, and any kind of relationship with Alex would surely do that. She’d finally done what she wanted and gotten rid of him.

Beware the Dragon. She hadn’t forgotten the warning, but the thought of him not coming back, of him riding off into the mist to his death thinking the worst of her, had forced her to confront her feelings for him. She cared about him. Deeply. And it challenged her resolve like nothing before. For the first time, she could contemplate a future that did not involve being alone, and she was surprised how fiercely her foolish heart held on to the image.

Shouldn’t she be beyond all this?

“Is something wrong, Joan?” her cousin Margaret asked when Joan waved away another tray of sweets—this one squares of apple tart. It was the late afternoon, and they’d gathered in Alice’s sitting room to work on their needlework. “You don’t look well.”

Joan shook her head and tried to brighten but failed when her smile wobbled. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” That was the truth. “The men were up late.”

“I heard them as well,” Margaret said. “It must have been after midnight before they went to bed.”

Alice looked back and forth between them, and then, clearly bursting to tell them something, leaned forward conspiratorially. “Henry told me not to say anything yet, so you must keep it to yourselves for now, but they have caught the rebel spy who has been feeding information to the usurper for years.”

Joan hid her shock—barely—but the news caused Margaret to drop the cup of mulled wine she had been drinking. The fine pottery mug shattered on the hard wooden floor into dozens of pieces, spraying the pungent dark liquid all over their feet, although Margaret’s hem took the brunt of it.

“Whatever is the matter with you, Margaret?” Alice said impatiently, as the maidservant hurried to clean up the mess. “You have been as jumpy as a hare of late. Henry said you almost fainted when he came up behind you in town the other day.” Her small upturned nose wrinkled in a frown. “You never did say where you were going.”

By now Margaret had collected herself, but her cheeks were still a warm pink. “He scared me,” she protested. “And I am not jumpy, I am surprised. Why have we heard nothing of this? Who have they arrested?”

Margaret seemed almost as anxious to hear the details as Joan.