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But here, in this silent field as we witness the worst sort of treachery, the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I turn, sensing something is amiss. Warin and Gille seem on alert too, but nothing moves around us.

Thankfully, we look back just in time to see him. Another man, walking alone, from a different direction than the others. I squint, knowing he is familiar to me but not recognizing him until his face fully comes into view.

The queen’s brother-in-law.

“Goddammit.”

Warin doesn’t react, but Gille does, and strongly too.

“That bastard. I will send him to hell myself.”

If anyone were to send him to hell, it would be me. Though no one truly knows the details of what happened between us, I stand, prepared to do just that, when someone behind us growls out, “Do not move.”

How did he get so close without making a sound?

“Father Aiken,” Gille correctly says. “We’d heard you might be here.”

The Elderman’s hood covers the top portion of his face. His sword at the ready, Father Aiken prepares to fight.

So he is a Shadow Warrior? For no mortal man could sneak up on us that way.

Of course, I know the stories are not true. Gille and I have speculated the Prima is responsible for the rumors, that he perhaps spread them to gain more power. This man is mortal, as are the other Shadow Warriors, even though this is the first time I’ve come face-to-face with one who is known to me.

I defy him and unsheathe my sword.

“You are outnumbered,” I say, offering a silent prayer that I am speaking the truth. There are several men in the dovecote, aye, but we are a distance away.

Without removing his hood, he says, “If I wanted you dead, all three of you would be so already.”

His voice is low but piercing.

“You do not want to go down there,” he says. I can only assume he speaks of the dovecote.

“Nay?” Warin taunts back. “Instead, you’d have your friends butcher more innocent women and children?”

He does not flinch. “They are not my friends. Put down your swords, and I will do the same.”

Gille laughs. “I think not, Elderman.”

I was little more than a boy when I faced thousands of enemy soldiers at the Battle of Hendrelds. But now, standing across from this lone man, I am more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. He did have the advantage, and lost it by revealing himself. Even so, the Shadow Warrior has the look of a man who is confident he will win if we force a fight on him. And, illogical as it seems, I believe him . . . such a fight would probably leave him mortally wounded, but that would be little comfort to three dead men.

Fighting Father Aiken is not something I wish to do this day. Not until I learn what he came here to tell us.

“Do it,” I command.

Both Gille and Warin hesitate.

“That was not a request.”

I’ve no desire to pull rank on either of them, most especially Warin, who barely recognizes me as his superior. But neither will I get them killed this day.

“Now,” I repeat.

When they sheathe their swords, I do the same. Only then does Aiken set down his own weapon. We may no longer be armed, but the mood is like death sitting at the very tip of a sword.

“I am expected at that meeting, and plan to attend,” Aiken says.

We should not have lowered our weapons.