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Rowan is saved from replying. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he manages to retrieve it without swearing too much. A call has gone straight to his voicemail service: another curse of the intermittent reception in this part of the world. He listens to the message from Harriet Kay, who runs the press office for Cumbria Constabulary. Her accent is local, her attitude too. Ariah smiled weakly.Sometimes what we see must come to pass. Theres nothing you can do, Jeren. Not even you. This is my end. As she pushes out the still-open door, she mumbles something aboutfucking weird family. Id like a minute alone with them. The sword trembled in her hand. Was it disappointment in his face? She couldnt tell for sure and he turned away from them before she could look more closely. Then you arent ready for any message she might have. At least have the courtesy to name her first. Come quickly. The Holters are encamped just beyond the next rise and theyve raised a flag of parlay. They are asking for you. Please do. Well, mutters Rowan. What a fucking knob. He puts his hand out for Snowdrop, who has the sense to take it softly. “Go see if she needs a friend,” he says, leaning down to her ear. “Not for the story – just because she might really need it.” He stands up again to find Serendipity smiling at him. The librarian shakes her head.Sadly not. There are some lovely baked good though – we all chip in for the buffet. Theres always a bottle open and were enthusiastic. Weve published two anthologies, short stories and poems. We had one gentleman, a crime writer from Preston, he was drunk before he even arrived. He was very indiscreet about his day job. Solicitor for the Crown Prosecution Service! He was quite the scamp. We had a wonderful evening. I ve asked Jo to sound you about it but when I didn’t hear back I presumed you weren’t up to it. She glances at his hands. “Sore? But it had been so real, so very real. And why would she have dreamed of the blood on his clothes? Somewhere out there Shan was in danger. She knew it in her heart but there was no way to reach him. Dont expect to see him again, Jeren. Any moments together will be stolen and such a theft severely punished. He belongs to the sect. He belongs to Ylandra. He lifted her as he got to his feet. Startled, Jeren could only babble a complaint as Shan stepped out of the tent and into the hustle and bustle of a camp about to be struck. You mean the coven, says Chris, flatly. He drew in a shaky breath, forcing himself to focus, to answer. His gaze slid aside, to the patterns of light dancing across the undulating canvas of the pavilion.As you say, Jeren. Youd know better than I..