TWENTY-EIGHT
"Something pulled on my cloak, I swear it!" Nera cried.
Vasco swore under his breath and lifted his foot off her cloak. If she hadn't let it trail on the ground behind her, he would not have trodden on it.
"You must have caught it on a branch or something," Brenna advised her. Even though she looked in Vasco's direction, he was certain she could not see him. None of the girls could, and none of their mysterious princes, either.
Nera seemed satisfied by Brenna's explanation, but it drew Vasco's attention to the well-worn path at their feet, which had no branches to catch anyone's clothes, and the trees that grew on either side. Their leaves shone silver in the moonlight, as though made of metal and not living wood. He hadn't seen any such trees when he was cutting timber
