Unlikely

She met Vane at the inn first thing in the morning. As instructed, she wore the kerchief, she made a public allegiance to the very thing she wanted to destroy. She couldn’t look at Marten’s shop. The broken window, the sparkle of glass on cobblestones, still teased her from her memory as she stomped up the steps of the Welcome Inn for the first time. She didn’t need to look.

  Once inside the building, however, look was all she could manage. Surely once, the tables here had sat in orderly fashion. Now they clumped in one corner, amidst the rubble of broken chairs and surrounded by fat barrels of the landlord’s ale. Suds dried on the floor, and flies hummed everywhere. A stout stone chimney divided the far wall, but she could see little of the fireplace. Starlights blocked it from view.

  They perched on the tables, leaned rickety chairs back onto two legs, and shouted orders at the women attempting to deliver food and drinks without getting too close to the patrons. The inn, while still functional, looked to have fared only slightly better than Marten’s shop. If the weary expressions the staff wore could be believed, at least here, the Starlights were not eagerly received.

  A fat man waddled through an archway through which the steam and aroma of the kitchen drifted. He wore an apron, smudged with grease and breakfast leavings. His eyes sagged under too much stress and too little sleep. Still, they sparked at the sight of her. For one moment, Satina saw hope there. She wanted to smile, to reassure the man, but Vane’s voice killed the moment, sent the innkeeper back into despair.

  “There she is,” Vane spoke loud enough Marten probably heard next door. “My goodmother. Come here, Satina. Have a drink on the house.” Not his house, but then, what did that matter to a man who believed he owned the world?

  He closed in on her, wrapping that possessive arm around her shoulders and steering her into the trashed main room. His gang glared and whispered, but Vane beamed. He paraded her in front of them while the barmaids looked at their toes and shuffled back to join their boss in the kitchen. She’d betrayed them, joined the enemy. Some Granter she was.

  Marten would have lots of company now. Now the whole town would despise her. Vane would make certain of that.

  ☼

  They hiked to the ruins from the main road, a more direct route than she’d taken with Marten, but one just as hard on the skirts. The Starlights worked as a team, helping each other over fallen trees, root tangles, and at last up the twisty slope and through the guardian trees to the castle basin. They left their women at the inn, and Satina fought to keep up with them, set her resolve and only once or twice needed the offered Starlight hand for assistance.

  Once they broke through the trees, the gang spread out. Vane leaped onto a shelf of old wall and used his voice stretching trick to shout directions. He ordered them into smaller groups, and set them to the task he called “surveying.” The Starlights combed the castle ruins, all eyes fixed upon the ground and alert to anything at all unusual.

  “Goodmother!” He dropped from the wall and waved in her direction. “You’ll be with me.”

  He kept four of his men with him as well, and they formed up the same way the others had. Starting in a line, Vane had them space themselves by stretching out their arms until their fingers could just touch at the tips. Then he ordered a march, eyes on the ground, down the wide avenue that led to the main courtyard, the big staircase and the menhir pocket. Exactly where she’d feared he would want her.

  She walked beside him on the right, and she kept her eyes on the stones just as he’d said. But if Satina had tripped over an amulet, a sword, or a whole suit of armor, she’d have kept her mouth shut about it.

  The others were too loyal for that. She heard shouts from across the ruins long before they reached the courtyard. Vane smiled and stood taller. He thrust his shoulders back and sn