“He’s going to move soon,” she said quietly.
Gareth nodded once, his eyes never leaving the distant torches.
The border raids,he signed.They will increase. He means to weaken us before the killing blow.
“Then we need allies. Other lords, someone who can?—”
There is no one.His jaw tightened.Alaric has spent fifteen years building alliances. I have spent three years building walls.
Elodie’s mind raced through the possibilities. “What about your defenses? Are there weaknesses he might exploit? Postern gates, old tunnels, anything?”
There are always weaknesses.He turned to face her, and something in his expression had shifted—he was looking at her the way he looked at tactical problems, with focused intensity.Tomorrow, you will walk the walls with Miles. Learn every entrance, every blind spot. If trouble comes, you will know every way out.
“I’m not planning to run.”
Aye, I know.The ghost of something that might have been a smile crossed his face.That is why I need you to know. So when you choose to stay, you do it with full knowledge.
She wanted to argue, but the logic was sound. And beneath the tactical planning, she could see what he wasn’t saying, that he was trying to protect her, the only way he knew how.
“Fine,” she said. “Tomorrow, the walls. What else?”
The household. Someone told Alaric about the sign language. Someone watched us closely enough to report details.His hands moved sharply.We have a spy.
The word dropped between them like a stone into still water. Elodie thought of Marian’s eager face, of Bertram’s worried eyes, of all the servants who had slowly begun to treat her as one of their own.
“You think someone in the castle is working for him.”
I think Alaric does nothing without planning. He knew about you before today. He knew about the signs. Someone isfeeding him information.Gareth’s expression darkened.Find them.
“Me?”
You see things I miss. People trust you. Talk to you.He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face with unexpected gentleness.Watch. Listen. Be the archaeologist you claim to be. Dig up what is buried.
The weight of the task settled onto her shoulders. She was no spy-catcher—she was an academic who’d fallen through time, still half-convinced that one morning she’d wake up in her London flat with a reasonable explanation for all of this.
But she nodded. This was her home now, these were her people, and Gareth was asking for her help.
“I’ll find them,” she said.
His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment longer. Then he stepped back, already turning toward the stairs.
Tomorrow,he signed.The walls with Miles. Then we talk about refugees.
“Refugees?”
A group will arrive by week’s end. Alaric’s raids have driven them from their homes.His expression was grim.More mouths to feed. More people to protect. And more opportunities for Alaric to slip someone inside our gates.
He disappeared down the stairwell, his footsteps fading into silence.
Elodie remained on the battlements, her mind already cataloguing the household, searching for anyone who seemed out of place, anyone who asked too many questions, anyone whose loyalty might be less certain than it appeared.
Somewhere out there in the darkness, Alaric was planning his next move. And somewhere in the castle behind her, someone was helping him do it.
She had to find them first.
CHAPTER 15
The argument started over nothing and became everything. Four days had passed since Alaric’s visit. Days of increased patrols, nervous servants, and Gareth’s relentless vigilance. He’d barely slept—Elodie could see it in the shadows beneath his eyes, the tension that never left his shoulders. Every rider on the horizon set the castle on alert. Every unexpected sound made hands reach for weapons.
