Page 4 of Shadows of Winter

“Naybor,” Frayvar whispered.

“Naybor,” she repeated with a smile for Vlerion.

He didn’t smile back. Something told her the guy never smiled.

The handsome ranger looked around, elegant blond eyebrows rising. “There’s nobody else here.”

“You will come out.” Vlerion held Kaylina's gaze. “Trespassing on private property in Port Jirador is illegal.” His eyes closed to slits. “Trespassing with the intent to foment an insurrection is treason, punishable by death.”

Kaylina stared at him. Insurrection? What insurrection?

“We just got here,” she blurted.

Maybe that wasn’t a defense. Maybe if she had a minute, she could come up with something more articulate, but he didn’t give her a minute.

“Only the so-called virtuous cohort and their spies lurk around the cursed castle.” Vlerion drew a long sword, nicks along the blade promising it had seen frequent use. “And only the Virts have the motivation to murder unarmed aristocrats.”

“I—”

Murder? What was he talking about?

“If you are not guilty, you will come out and explain yourselves,” Vlerion said. “If you run, your guilt will be assumed.”

And I’ll kill you, his cold eyes said.

Would he enjoy it? Or remain as dispassionate throughout as he was sitting on his mount?

“The front door is locked,” Kaylina remembered. “Naybor trapped us inside.”

“During your tour.” His flat tone made it a statement, not a question.

“Before it started.”

“It was a self-guided tour,” Frayvar said. “Naybor—he called himself a local land agent—told us to check out the place. We’re prospective tenants.”

Vlerion’s expression never changed, but his earlier words, cursed castle, made Kaylina think the idea of anyone renting this place was ludicrous. Maybe that was something the locals all knew.

“Jankarr.” Vlerion looked to the other ranger.

He appeared to be older, but he bobbed his head and hopped down as if he’d been given an order by a superior. He trotted to the great oaken double doors and swung one open easily, as if its hinges had been oiled recently.

What in all the altered orchards? It had been locked a minute ago. Kaylina wasn’t crazy. She’d checked.

“Come outside, Virts,” Jankarr called, “if you want a chance to defend yourselves.”

“Defend ourselves?” Frayvar whispered, walking hesitantly toward the door. “Does he mean with weapons or words?”

Though she didn’t want to go out, Kaylina had to watch out for her little brother, so she hurried to step in front of him. “You know a lot more about words than weapons, so you’d better hope for that.”

“I know more about numbers than either.”

“You want me to ask him to set up some math problems?” Kaylina crept warily toward the door, eyeing Jankarr, who held it open, as if he were a polite gentleman instead of a fearsome ranger who was also fondling his sword hilt.

“Would you?” Frayvar asked.

“Math isn’t going to prove our innocence. You—”

As Kaylina stepped out, a shadow moved to the side. Before she could so much as twitch, a sword swept in, the cool kiss of sharp steel touching her throat.

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