Too late, or too early? The door was unlocked, so he opened it and slipped inside. The room was surprisingly bare, containing only a single bed atop a padded floor. Hardly the servants’ quarters he’d expected. The lone lantern kept the place dimly lit, with plenty of shadows in the far corners. So far, it appeared empty.

“Damn,” he whispered.

He headed for the far corner, figuring to wait a few hours just in case the meeting was yet to transpire. In the center of the room, though, he stopped. Something in the corner wasn’t right, the shadows not smooth…

Haern lunged for the door, his instincts screaming trap. Before he could get there, something latched onto his cloak and tugged, hard. He spun to the ground, torn between attacking and tearing free his cloak to flee. Already furious because of Brann, he kicked to his feet and attacked. To his surprise, his sabers clashed against long blades, his thrusts perfectly blocked. He was already preparing a second strike when he saw his opponent’s outfit. Long dark wrappings covering her body-all but her shadowed face.

“Enough, Watcher,” said Zusa, her slender body contorted into a bizarre defensive formation. “I am not here to kill you.”

Haern pulled away, and he put his back to a wall, the door at his side.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

“Because I desired it,” said a voice at the door. Haern turned, then dipped his head in a mock bow.

“Lady Gemcroft,” he said. “It is good to see you, Alyssa.”

The ruler of the Gemcroft fortune smiled at him, not at all bothered by his tone.