“It is settled then. I may require your support now and then, as well.”

She smiled and gazed out once more at snowy roofs and pedestrians picking their way over the icy street. She was very lucky, luckier than she had ever imagined, for her family. Both families.

A short time later, a mischievous thought came into her mind and she turned to her father. “I feel that I should warn you about Captain Mapstone.”

He stared blankly at her. “Warn me about her?”

Karigan nodded solemnly. “Since you are aware that Green Riders have magical abilities, I do not feel it amiss to warn you she can tell if you are ever lying.”

He paled. “She—she can read my mind?”

Karigan smiled. “Just thought you’d find it useful to know in your dealings with her.” His look of consternation was so comical she could barely suppress her laughter. “As long as you don’t lie to her, you should be all right.”

Perhaps it was not her place to tell him of the captain’s ability, but seeing him squirm a little was priceless. Merchants, she knew very well, were prone to exaggerations, and her father was no exception. She wondered, in amusement, what sort of things he’d already told the captain.

• • •

In the days that followed, winter eased with sunnier skies and longer days, allowing some of the snow to melt, only to freeze into ice during the night. Karigan spent time with her father and aunts visiting museums, shopping, and sipping tea at a cafe on Gryphon Street. There were times when it was just she and her aunts, and she suspected besides “attending to business” as she was told, her father was actually visiting the captain.

Her family was more cautious with her, she noticed. They tread carefully, treated her as an adult, and were well-behaved in her chamber, not prying but respecting her privacy. As much as she had wished for that respect, it felt like a part of her childhood had died, and she thought maybe they were being a little too careful.

On the day of their departure, she stood on the front steps of the castle with her aunts, waiting for her father to appear. He had, her aunts said, some final “business” with Captain Mapstone.

I bet he does, Karigan thought.

“While, we’re waiting . . .” Aunt Stace said, and she stepped down to their wagon and leaned into the cargo area. She pulled out what looked like a bulging canvas sail bag. “We have passed the winter knitting and thought your friends would like hats and mittens like yours.”

“Oh, yes,” Karigan said, accepting the bag and peering inside at the green wool yarn. “They’ve been threatening to steal mine!”

Her aunts beamed. “There is also a set in minstrel blue for Estral.”

“Don’t forget the other thing,” Aunt Tory said.

Aunt Stace’s lips became a narrow line; then she said, “Of course, Tory.” She pulled a jug from the wagon bed that sloshed when she handed it to Karigan.

“Did you know that your friend, Lord Alton, has an aunt who distills whiskey?” Aunt Tory asked Karigan.

“Uh, no, I did not.” Karigan held the jug in her arms, regarding it dubiously.

“Well, he does, and that is a fine sample of her work. Very good for toddies.”

If Aunt Tory expected her to consume it all herself, it would take years. Good thing it wouldn’t go bad. She noticed the guards at the castle entrance eyeing the jug wistfully. Maybe she could share it with some new friends.

Her father soon joined them, cutting across castle grounds, no doubt from officers quarters, rather than exiting the castle itself. He looked well pleased with himself. His “business” with the captain must have gone well.

Hmm.

“It was time we departed, I suppose,” he said, “while the weather holds and the day is young.” He hugged Karigan, jug of whiskey and all. “Remember, we are all so proud of you. I can’t even express how happy I am you are back with us.”

When he pulled away, she espied what might have been a glistening of tears in his eyes, but then he was entirely himself, chivvying his sisters to get moving. Her aunts gave her kisses and hugs. He then helped them step up onto the wagon.

“It looks to be a challenging year for trade,” he told her, “with the uncertainty of forthcoming conflict, but we are G’ladheons and we will forge on.” He then climbed up onto the driving bench with Aunt Stace. “Do visit if you can, and please, please, stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

“I know,” he said quietly. Without an actual good-bye, he clucked and whistled the drays on. The wagon lurched forward. Her aunts did call out their farewells and waved to her. She watched the wagon make its way down the drive all the way to the portcullis and out of sight.

Rather suddenly the world had gone quiet, and she felt very alone. As much as their arrival had posed some difficulty for her, she now felt bereft with their departure. Perhaps, she thought, adjusting the jug of whiskey in her arms, she should go hand out the hats and mittens her aunts had knitted, and make herself a toddy. A toddy strong enough to please Aunt Tory.

She smiled, and hefting the sail bag over her shoulder, entered the castle.

• • •

When Karigan returned to the Rider wing with her burdens, she found the corridor quiet and empty but for one Rider, Sophina. She came from minor nobility and had heard the call not long before Karigan had entered Blackveil. Sophina had not gotten on well at first, thinking herself above all the others and too good to be a messenger. That Alton D’Yer was a Rider and the heir of a province did nothing to sway her. Apparently her attitude had begun to change the day her ability manifested, the day that an assassin’s arrow almost took King Zachary from them. She had “seen” it happen.