It was true, as second nursemaid to the prince, Mirella did run up and down the stairs a great deal, especially to the kitchen. The young prince was teething and loved nothing more than the end crusts of loaves. She could now run up and down the twisted staircase as easily as a skilled musician played a harp. And when she appeared, Laveth bragged on her, the old nurse scowled but Mirella did her best to ignore her. There was nothing she could do to win the old nurse’s favor; Nan Maura had considered her an intrusion right from the start. How did Mirella know? Nan Maura had told her so. 

         Now, as she slipped beneath the gonfalon and ran up the stairs, her feet dancing to a familiar pattern, her heart was pounding as hard as the first time she’d entered. 

         Actually, Mirella was shaking from head to toe.

         The child is in danger, mortal danger, the Hunter had read. Oren Hunter, the Protectra of the Pentacas, renowned for his fighting skills in a tribe of fighters. The man who stood on the Jutting Rock during the Spring Calling of Spirits, yet hadn’t seen her hiding in the branches of a scrub oak. But then, she hadn’t seen spirits, and judging by the reaction from the others, they’d certainly been present.