Chapter Eleven
Six months later…
The winds outside are stirring, the air ripe. Sir is anxious, which makes me anxious, too. In fact, the whole house seems on edge. I catch pieces of stray conversations, which suggest there is some civil turmoil close by. Terrorists. Heathens. Nightriders.
These are all menacing images.
Sir brings me into his study where I stand before him submissively waiting for him to speak. When he looks up from his work, he peers beyond his glasses, studying me.
“We may be separated for a few weeks.”
This makes me instantly afraid. “Why is that?”
“I may have to send you to a retreat where you will be safe.”
“Safe from the terrorists?”
“You guess well.”
“What if they find me?”
His expression is serious. “They will assume a good deal about who you are when
