My stomach fluttered. This might be something we could discover. Find out who was there—and investigate them. If we could find a false identity… someone who didn’t belong… I resolved to bring it up with the spymaster.

Something else happened that made me feel better, too. Late that morning, one of the King’s Men knocked on our door. I figured he was here for Tom, until I recognized him. It was the man who’d lent me his warhorse, Chuff.

He’d found Blossom!

I limped along with him to the stables. Sure enough, there was the old girl, safe in her stall. She nickered, and I held her while she chewed on the back of my coat. “Where did you find her?”

“On a farm near Parsons Green,” the King’s Man said. “She wandered in among the cows. Farmer said she was making friends.”

“Of course she was. She’s a sweet old thing. Aren’t you, girl?”

I was so happy, I gave the King’s Man a pound for his troubles, which made his eyes bulge. He left, delighted, as I looked Blossom over. She had a nasty gouge on her chest, where the rope strung across the road had hit her, and other bruises and cuts from the fall. But the groom—a new man, thankfully—said there was no permanent damage, and she’d heal well enough, given time. I stayed with her a bit, brushing her coat and sneaking her sugar from the vial in my apothecary sash, while she bobbed her head at Bridget, who marched along the stall door.

In the meantime, Isaac was supposed to be reading Master Benedict’s journals. When Sally returned to the palace, finally rested from a good night’s sleep, I suggested we all go check on him, and on Simon, too. We’d need to tell them both about the Raven, anyway.

As Blossom needed rest, I suggested we take different horses. Sally insisted we use a carriage. “If it wasn’t for Isaac,” she said, “I wouldn’t even let you two out.”

Tom and I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am,” we said, and she glared at us.

Bridget flew off into the sky as soon as the carriage started rolling, heading home to Blackthorn, no doubt. She’d have to wait for us there, because I wanted to see Isaac first, to find out what he’d discovered.

We found him in his shop, leaning heavily on a stool, a mop in hand and a soapy bucket near the counter. Judging from the water smeared on the floor, he’d managed only a few swipes before sitting back down. He tried to hide it, but he looked in terrible pain.

Sally, already in a bit of a mood due to our casual disregard for our injuries, narrowed her eyes. “What were you doing?”

“Just tidying up a little,” Isaac said.

“I told you I’d come by and help.”

“I can do it.”

“We’ll all help,” I said, and then Sally finally lost her temper.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at each one of us in turn. “You, too. And you—give me the mop.” She shook her head. “Boys.”