Page 16

The commotion in the trees felt larger than a wayward hen.

Grace stared intently.

At first, she couldn’t see anything, but then her eyes trained on a flicker of motion.

The moon was still a slip of a crescent, but its light shone on the rim of the forest and landed upon a figure. Grace only got a quick look, but her heart leapt. Had she just seen a human clad in a green verdure cloak?

The whole thing happened so quickly Grace thought she might have imagined it. She’d been thinking of that exact sight moments before. It could just be a trick of shadows and imagination.

Unless…

A tiny hope planted itself in Grace’s heart. Jonathan had left with his family, but perhaps he hadn’t wanted to, not truly. Now that he was old enough to be a full Protector, just as she was, he could have come back.

Apprehension followed closely behind hope. It was dangerous for Jonathan to be running around in a verdure cloak. Someone might see him and think the Rogue had returned. He wouldn’t know that since his departure Grace had abandoned their plan to resurrect the rebel.

It took all the self-control she’d developed in training not to leap from the wagon and investigate now.

Jonathan could be here. She might not be alone!

But she couldn’t go. She might be seen. Even if her thick cotton market dress weren’t a detriment to stealth, she couldn’t exactly leave the carriage sitting in the middle of the road. And if she let the horses take the wagon home, what would happen when it arrived and her parents found her missing?

She couldn’t wake Russell to explain since he knew nothing about the forest secrets besides the fact that there were secrets. And though Father, she was sure, was not asleep, he couldn’t come out to drive. Not that he’d let her dash off into the woods alone.

And yet, the strange figure posed an immense amount of danger as well. The sheriff was quick with a blade. She’d seen him and his son sparring, heard the confidence in that whispered threat.

And it wasn’t just himself Jonathan put at risk.

The return of the Rogue was guaranteed to raise taxes, and any substantial increase would capsize the town. The people were barely surviving thanks to her family’s secret distributions, but their assets could only go so far. There was more to it than simply giving what was needed. Too much depletion put the next harvest at risk. One bad harvest, and there may not be enough to feed themselves, let alone half the town.

And patrols would be reinstated to catch the Rogue, resulting in searches of the forest.

Two decades ago, this overlooked consequence had bred dissension in the ranks of the Protectors, leading to Mr. Milner’s betrayal and eventual hanging. The risk had only increased over the twenty years since that terrible ending. The wards around the forest fortress were showing signs of decay. Patrols in the forest could mean the discovery of the Zerudorn gold and its destructive magic.

There were so many risks.

How could she, a Protector of Fidara, do nothing?

The forest creatures stirred again, and Grace looked for the man she’d seen. Instead, a doe emerged from the shadows.

Perhaps she’d imagined it after all.

But the seed had been planted, and Grace couldn’t help but feel certain.

Jonathan had returned.

It took Grace’s father only five minutes after securing the floorboard above the hidden nook in their dining room floor to ask her to sit down to talk.

“Russell mentioned you talked with Garrick Clairmont twice today, and then hid from him. Is there something you need to tell us, fledgling?”

Grace clenched her teeth behind pursed lips at the childish endearment. Did they not trust her at all? She’d identified this as a problem herself. “Yes. We have a problem.”

Her parents glanced at each other, exchanging communication only they understood.

“What happened?”

Grace squared her shoulders. “Garrick showed up in the mystic tent while Russell and I were there. As we were leaving, Russell referred to Father being done.”

“Done with what?” Father asked.