The door hadn't been closed for more than a heartbeat before I was moving.
Not toward the front of the den.
Toward the storage room.
My mother's letter.
The unfinished one.
If everyone else kept getting interrupted before they could answer my questions...
Maybe she wouldn't.
The shelves greeted me with the familiar scent of dried herbs and old wood.
Rain still drummed steadily against the roof.
Outside, voices carried across the village.
Warriors shouting.
Orders being given.
Beaumont had become restless.
Inside the storage room, everything was exactly where I'd left it.
Except me.
I wasn't the same girl who had walked in here yesterday.
Yesterday, I'd been looking for willow bark.
Today...
I was looking for my life.
I knelt beside the small wooden box.
My fingers tremb
