“Read it yourself,” Sir Henry said.

Joan prayed for her cousin to say something about the contents, but all she heard was silence. She tried to peek between the slats of the door that separated them, but she was only able to make out shadows and movement. She would give her eyeteeth to know what was in that missive.

“When will you be back?” Alice said with apparent resolve.

“Late,” Sir Henry said. Then as a concession, he added, “You can wait for me in my chamber if you like.”

Alice must have nodded.

“Good girl,” he said as if she were an obedient pup.

A few seconds later, Joan heard the sound of a door closing and Sir Henry’s departure. Not long after that, it closed for a second time, signaling Alice’s.

Joan debated all of a few moments, but she knew what she had to do.

“Change everything,” Sir Henry had said. Had the earls decided to come after all? Had the English learned something key about Bruce’s movements? She couldn’t ignore what she’d just heard. She had to take a chance and try to find out what important news the messenger had brought.

After donning a black cloak, she slipped out of her room through Alice’s empty chamber and into the donjon stairwell. Exiting into the ward, she headed toward the Great Hall, which was situated in the south wall directly opposite. She didn’t have a plan exactly, but she knew there was a narrow corridor between the Hall and Captain’s Lodgings, and she hoped to be able to get into position to hear or see something. There were also a number of storage rooms in the vaults below that she could try. If anyone questioned her, she could claim to be hungry or to have lost something at the evening meal.

Though she was doing nothing wrong—yet—she was still undeniably nervous. Her usually light footsteps felt loud and ungainly, and despite the warm wool of her cloak, she was chilled to the bone.

It was that blasted note she’d received, playing on her normal composure.

Or was it?

Suddenly, she realized how quiet the yard was. There were very few people moving about, which was odd for this time of evening—the bell for compline had not yet rung.

The prickle of unease grew. Every hair at the back of her neck stood up. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Information like this didn’t just fall into your lap . . .

She stopped suddenly. No, it didn’t. If it’s too good to be true, it probably is. Lachlan’s warning came back to her just in time.

Joan knew better than to ignore what all her instincts were telling her. Something wasn’t right.