“No, she would not,” Cade agreed, his expression troubled in the light of the taper.

“I have grown fond of her, and she fascinates me when she speaks of her own time. Professionally speaking, she is a treasure. I had hoped she was feeling at home here, happy even, and willing to settle down. I have certainly enjoyed having her as a member of my little family.”

The professor unconsciously twisted a silver button on the cuff of his coat. It occurred to him that if Karigan was able to travel back to her own time, she could change his present. What if, with all the information she had attained here, her return allowed her king to defeat the emperor? That could be a very positive outcome, the professor thought, and then he wondered what his own time would be like if that were the case. Would he and his people be better off? Would the ancestors who created his bloodline meet under the altered circumstances? Would he even exist? Who knew what threads of the world her return would realign. Perhaps everything would be better but perhaps not. He was just beginning to see how dangerous this time thing was. As much as he despised the empire, there was comfort in a known evil.

I wish to exist, he thought.

He let go of the tortured button now hanging on a loose thread and, not wishing to give voice to his concerns to Cade about Karigan’s altering time, he said, “It has come to mind that our Green Rider has not revealed the extent of her knowledge of the past.”

Cade shifted. “You believe she is withholding information?”

The creaks of the restless old building filled in the silence as the professor considered his reply. “She has done nothing to challenge my trust of her—not yet, anyway—but I believe her first loyalty lies with her king and her time, and that if she felt she needed to protect some aspect of the past, she would see fit to withhold information from us.” Like an alternate entrance to the tombs, he thought, or knowledge of the dragonfly device. “She is our ally so long as it suits her, but she is an independent spirit. I think, for instance, she would go after the Eletian by herself if I declined the help of the opposition. You’ve spent time with her, Old Button, what do you think?”

“I believe,” Cade replied, head bent in a thoughtful posture, “you are correct. Her independent spirit is something we don’t see much of here. Not even among the male population after almost two centuries of being trammeled down by the empire. I would also submit she is a person of honor, honor of another era, a time of great deeds when enemies came face to face in the light of day.”

“What is it you are saying?”

“I am saying that Silk’s work goes on at a great pace because we, the opposition, are too cautious. We attend parties, go about our routine, and this war of ours, well, it’s a war of secrets. Little is actually ever done. It—it is more like a gentleman’s club than an active resistance. But Silk, as well as the emperor and his Adherents, are fully committed. They take the active role.”

The professor stared at his protégé in disbelief, restraining the impulse to lash out at him—at Cade who had never before spoken a word of criticism against his efforts to lead the opposition, to keep its members safe, and most importantly to protect the royal heir. How could Cade protest that? But it was Cade, after all, a man of few words, his obedient student. That he should speak out at all was enough to stun, and the rarity of it meant the professor needed to take notice, to consider his words.

“Gentleman’s club, eh?”

Cade nodded, his serious expression unchanged.

A war of secrets, he had said. The professor knew it. Every time he attended the theater, a dinner party, or a tea, he participated in that war, spying, exchanging veiled barbs with his enemies. It had become a game, albeit a deadly game. He’d been so consumed with protecting the opposition that he’d preserved it like one of his artifacts. He’d stopped it in time. There was no forward momentum, no action, no victories to claim. The emperor and his minions moved ahead as steadily as they ever had, and there were no gains for the opposition.

Feeling drained, the professor wished for a chair to sit on, but there were none on this floor so he leaned against a sturdy pillar.

“Our Green Rider,” Cade said, “is a woman of honor. She will respect your request to wait on your decision about the Eletian. I suspect, however, that as a woman of honor, she won’t let the Eletian go unrescued no matter your response, and she will do what she believes is necessary.”

At least he and Cade agreed on that matter. The professor had identified her fierce spirit early on, but the more he thought about it, the more he began to feel like he’d been sheltering a keg of blasting powder beneath his roof. It was regrettable. If she were a more compliant woman of his own time, he’d have nothing to worry about, but then she wouldn’t be the interesting person he’d grown so fond of. Unfortunately, he might have to quell everything that made her who she was.

There were ways to prevent any rash action on her part, he knew. Convenient he’d given her the cover of being mad. It would be easy to withdraw her from society, lock her away, which would also prevent her going back to the past and altering time. He shook his head, sorry to even consider such possibilities. He would do so only if necessary.

He realized he could not confide in Cade these darker thoughts, these contingencies, since it was clear that Karigan G’ladheon had won him over. The professor had seen them kiss, he’d seen the way Cade watched her when she wasn’t looking. “Keep an eye on her, Old Button, and let me know if she seems likely to make a move without me. I have much to consider.”