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The Midnight Shadow eyed Kenric. Such pure evil. Hatred burned in her veins and righteousness roused her spirit. He was a head taller than she was, and stronger. She couldn’t outfight this man. She had to use her brain.

Two of the men broke off from Kenric and headed toward the clearing. Kenric signaled the last man to head toward the forest, toward her. Kenric moved in the direction of the fallen tree.

The Midnight Shadow remained absolutely still, letting herself become one with the night, as one of the men passed within six feet of her. She held her breath until he moved out of sight, afraid he would hear the simple act of her taking air into her lungs. She had to wait until they’d passed and then double back for her horse.

There was no coin, no tithe. It had all been a ruse to ensnare her.

She’d been arrogant to think they wouldn’t try to stop her. She was taking gold from Terran. He’d do everything in his power to catch her.

She watched Kenric’s man disappear into the darkness and stepped out of her cover, moving back the way she’d come.

Bria rode for a long time that night, crossing and re-crossing her path, making sure no one followed her. She pressed a torn piece of fabric to her wound, staunching the flow of blood. She was lucky. The blade had just grazed her; the cut wasn’t deep.

Only a few hours before dawn, she rode back into Castle Delaney, stabled her horse, and headed toward the keep.

Someone called out her name and froze her in her tracks.

She hesitated for a long moment, fearing it was Terran. She knew she couldn’t hide the pain shooting up her arm. But when she turned, she saw her grandfather. Relief filled her so completely she almost wept. Her steps quickened as she approached him.

“You shouldn’t be out this late, Bria,” he chastised. “If Knowles –”

He must have seen the pain in her eyes, for suddenly he grabbed her shoulders, demanding, “What’s wrong?”

She winced as agony shot through her arm to her shoulder. Harry’s gaze quickly scanned her body, her shoulders, her waist, her arms for an injury. “You’re hurt.” He seized her hand, leading her into the keep and down the hall. “What happened?” he whispered.

Bria shook her head, allowing him to lead her through the empty hallways. He brought her to his room and sat her on the bed, pausing to light a candle. “Where is it?”

“My left arm.” Bria eased her arm out of her dress. Though her movements were slow, pain sliced through her shoulder. She hadn’t hooked the side of her dress when she put on her regular clothes. The shooting agony prevented her from reaching the hooks. She had wrapped it as best she could with a piece of her cape.

Harry unwrapped the material, inspecting the wound with a critical eye. He pressed the material to the wound. “Hold it here,” he ordered. “I’ll be back.” He left the room.

Bria sat alone in the darkness. Her ally. Darkness had hidden her from Kenric. He’d be furious with her escape, would double his efforts to find her. There would be more traps. She’d barely made it out of this one, and with nothing to show but a sword wound in her arm. That would do nothing to help anyone.

The door opened, and Harry entered with a bowl of water and some clean rags. He sat down beside her, placing the bowl on the floor. “Would you like to explain what happened?”

Bria relinquished care of her wound to him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to involve him in her scheme. “There was a fight,” she lied. “I tried to break it up.”

Harry lifted his eyes to hers, searching out the truth. She turned away from his stare, unable to look at him. “This is a sword wound,” Harry informed her. “I’m not a fool, Bria, and I’m insulted you’d treat me like one.”

“Oh, Grandfather,” she whispered. But she couldn’t tell him her secret, couldn’t implicate him in her plan. She shook her head and her long locks fell over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She stared at her arm, refusing to meet his gaze. “I was coming home from the clearing and I saw two men fighting. I tried to stop it.”

Harry’s eyes saddened, and he looked down at her wound, cleaning and wrapping it in silence.

Bria wanted to tell him the truth. It was tearing her apart not to be able to confide in him, but what she was doing was far too dangerous.

Harry tied off the wrappings. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Just stay away from sword fights.”

Bria smiled and stood. Grateful, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He grunted in disapproval, but kissed her hand. “Go and get some rest.”

Terran sat in the Great Hall late into the night, awaiting word of the capture of the Midnight Shadow, his rival, his hated enemy. He held a mug of ale tightly as he stared into the crackling fire of the hearth. Around him on the floor, servants slept, content in the dreams of commoners. For Terran, there’d be no contented sleep until the Midnight Shadow was captured. His coffers suffered, but not half as much as his heart.

Footsteps echoed in the Great Hall, the sound bouncing off the heavy stone walls. Terran lifted his gaze to see Kenric approaching.

Terran rose and moved to greet him, calling, “Where is he? I want to interrogate him myself.”

Kenric looked away from his cousin’s piercing stare and his jaw clenched. “He escaped.”