She came to a soft landing on my shoulder, and immediately I could see this wasn’t one of her usual antics. She was frantic. “Calm down,” I said. “I’m listening.”
Mr. Wyck tensed beside me, but I couldn’t think about that. Something was wrong.
“I can’t go to Fayte Hall now,” I muttered. “How would I get into Mr. MacDougall’s office? I’ll go tomorrow, when Marlie can help.”
My dragonfly flew up directly into my right eyebrow.
I stumbled back. “Stop! I told you, I can’t get in even if I wanted to.”
She buzzed in a zigzag between Mr. Wyck and me.
I looked at him. What she was telling me was impossible, but I asked him anyway. “Do you know a way into Mr. MacDougall’s office?”
“Now?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I stared up at the stars. None of this was making sense. “I don’t know. She’s saying I need to get to Fayte Hall. To the divining pool.”
I winced. Had I told him too much?
“I can’t get you into Mr. MacDougall’s office.”
I turned to my dragonfly with an I-told-you-so grimace.
“But,” he added, “I can get you to the Hall.”
“You can?”
He nodded. “At least I think I can. There’s a way through the woods beyond the wall. My father took me through it once, years ago. I think I can still find it.”
I didn’t know what to say but my dragonfly did. She instantly buzzed around his head in happy circles.
When she elongated the lap, I could see she was trying to communicate again. “She wants us to hurry. But how will we get past the guards? Surely they’re still there.”
He took my hand. “I know another way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We traveled, Mr. Wyck and I, along the terrace paths to the south side of the castle wall. My dragonfly kept pace beside me.
Mr. Wyck eyed her at intervals. “Is she following us?”
“I think so. She hasn’t told me.”
“Of course, she hasn’t,” I heard him mutter under his breath.
I dismissed the sarcasm. His approval didn’t matter.
We hurried through the shadows and endeavored to stay out of sight of the castle guards who walked the perimeter.
We made good time. When we neared the King George gate, Mr. Wyck pulled me into a shadow before the guards saw us.
“I’ll go first and distract them,” he whispered.
Then I watched him affect a leisurely stride, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets. “Bit late for an evening stroll, mate,” one uniformed guard called out.
Mr. Wyck made a sucking sound through his teeth and tipped back his cap. “Is it? I wasn’t keeping track of the time, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re from the mews, aren’t you?” the guard asked. “You should probably be getting back that way.”
“My thoughts exactly. I was just on my way down. Say—” He rubbed at a patch of stubble on his chin and worked his way to a spot in front of the guard, giving me a chance to slip through the shadowed side of the gate’s opening without being seen. “They don’t know anything more about that girl who was done in beyond the wall, do they? I have a friend inside”—he nudged his chin toward the castle—“she’s worried. I’d like to put her mind at ease, if I can.”
Something in my gut pinched at his words. Was that true? Did he have a female friend inside? The question hounded me as I tried to focus on keeping out of sight.
The guard clucked his tongue. “I don’t know anything about that. The Constable’s men are keeping an eye on the spot, but they’re a tight-lipped bunch. You should tell your friend to stay inside, though. To be on the safe side.”
“I’ll do that,” Mr. Wyck said. “Thanks for your trouble.”
“No trouble, mate. Have a good night.”
Mr. Wyck tipped his cap again and shuffled down the lane. I held to the shadows until we were a good distance away and the darkness obscured us.
We walked in silence, each in our own thoughts. I wanted to ask him about the friend. But what did it matter? It shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t make any difference at all.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
I shot him a hard glance. “I was just thinking of that girl on the Slopes. What do you think happened to her?”
He looked at me then my dragonfly, who still buzzed above my head. “Difficult to say. Strange things happen in these woods. Things I can’t explain. But it might have been just like they said, a terrible accident.”
The way he stared into the distance, I knew he didn’t believe that. Just as I didn’t.
“Do you—”
But I didn’t have a chance to finish my question. He held out his arm to stop me. “This is it,” he said. “The path is here, somewhere.”
I saw nothing but the Long Walk, the arrow-straight path that led from the castle gate to the Copper Horse statue on Snow Hill two and a half miles away, with rows of elms and oaks bordering each side. “I can’t see anything but the trees.”
“Precisely,” he said with a confident air. “Come on.”
He trampled through the low grass and I followed behind, my ankles and hem growing damp along the way. Despite myself, I watched for stray roots and tensed at every snap of a twig, every crunch of a brittle leaf under foot. I scanned the shadows for anything that moved.
To my dragonfly, who was flying to my left, I whispered, “You’ll warn me if there’s trouble, won’t you?”
“What did you say?” he called back.
“Nothing.”
“Talking to that dragonfly again? What did it have to say?”
“She’s a she, not an it.”
“Fine. It’s not much farther. I’m looking for a tree.”
Just one? There were hundreds.
We passed a dozen, then he slowed as we neared an oak that stood apart from the rest. Larger and older, its gnarled branches and deep crevices reminded me of the tree I’d seen on the Slopes.
“This is the one, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer at first. He was pulling a leather cord from beneath his collar. If I’d had
