She did not remember crossing the meadow. One moment she was standing frozen by the nearest bonfire, staring at the dark where the masked figure had been, and the next she was at Dax’s elbow among the cider barrels, tugging his sleeve with fingers that had gone numb.
“At the treeline,” she said, very low. “Someone in a mask. Bone, shaped like a jaw. He threw something in the fire.”
Dax did not ask whether she was sure. He did not even blink. His cup went down on the barrel, his hand moved once in a small, flat gesture to two warriors by the tables, and they melted into the dark like water into sand. “Stay near Mira,” he said. “Do not go anywhere alone.” Then he was gone too, into the trees, as silent as a shadow.
Ariana turned back toward the firelight, and found that the waltz had stop
