Chapter One

No matter how many times Duchess Aurelia “Bree” Makena rode through the gateway to her castle in Orinshire, she’d never become accustomed to the bowing and scraping that inevitably met her arrival. Glancing up at the inverted row of spikes that made up the portcullis, she absently checked to make sure none of the heavy metal had the rust-orange tinge typical of neglect. She may not enjoy returning to the castle, but when her duties required her presence, she took the opportunity to see that the buildings, the bones as she liked to call them, of the castle were kept to the highest standards.

One of her ancestors must have felt the same because an inscription carved in the lintel above the gatehouse read: Many bones hev myed this castle strang, sum sin still their evensang. Sum lie still within these walls, thir Guides still hauntin o’er these halls.

The gatehouse made up part of the thirty-foot-high curtain wall surrounding the castle proper. Other castle stewards throughout Anacafria allowed moss to grow on stone and mortar, but Bree’s steward, Baron Ellsworth, would no more allow that than let his sword lose its edge.

Even though her contemporaries, Anacafrian noblewomen of early middle age, wore gowns in the latest fashion, Bree typically wore a warrior’s leather breeches and a tunic dyed the deep azure blue of her duchy. She’d ridden many miles over dusty roads and, at the last minute, remembered to check that her clothing was somewhat presentable. Out of habit, she adjusted the bandolier of throwing knives strapped diagonally across her chest and resettled the short sword hanging at her waist. Routinely respectful to everyone, regardless of rank, she nodded to the two guards standing at attention in front of the grey and white stone on either side of the entrance.

The first, senior guardswoman Yoren Amranth, the daughter of Bree’s uncle Gregrin, the Duke of Deerford, looked smart in the Danforth blue and gold. She’d only recently transferred to Bree’s guard after having had a disagreement with her father over an arranged marriage.

Gregrin had insisted that Yoren give up her sword and become the lady of some minor noble’s lands. To avoid what she considered a sentence worse than death, Yoren had approached Bree instead, asking for a place among her troops. After discussing the matter with Gregrin, who’d thrown up his hands in surrender, Bree had gladly accepted Yoren’s pledge of fealty.

The second guard, Nordin, a dark-skinned man with muscular arms and chest, was a temporary assignment to her garrison. He’d previously been bodyguard to Crown Prince Darius but had sustained a nearly fatal blow to the head while protecting his charge. It had taken a complete turn, fifteen full moons, for him to regain enough of his former self to be fit to stand guard. Bree hoped that in another three or four moons, he’d be well enough to return to Darius’ detail.

As she emerged from the gatehouse tunnel into the courtyard, her Spirit Guide, the rotund Badger, Ebi, materialized next to her horse’s hooves. It hadn’t been all that long ago that Bree had believed Spirit Guides were nothing more than fairy tales told to little children around an evening’s fire. Generations past, everyone in Anacafria could see and hear their Guide. However, over the last few hundred years, most Anacafrians had become blinded by prejudice and ignorance and, as a result, had lost their spiritual abilities. It wasn’t until Bree had adopted her daughter, Kaiti, that she’d begun seeing and hearing not only her own Guide but everyone else’s as well.

Bree dismounted and handed her reins to the stable lad who’d come running to take her horse. She took a moment to pull her saddlebags from behind her saddle, and as she did, she noticed an oversized Coyote pacing next to the base of the dovecote. All Guides were two to three times that of a normal animal, and Bree assumed this big brute was one as well. She pointed him out to Ebi. “Whose Guide is that?”

Ebi squinted in the direction Bree indicated and responded in the mind-to-mind communication typical of Guides and their apprentice. Where?

“There, walking by the dovecote.”

Ebi studied the tall pole holding up the pen where Baron Ellsworth kept his messenger pigeons. She glanced at Bree and then back to where the other Guide was supposed to be. There’s no Guide anywhere within these walls. Other than me, of course.

Irritated now, Bree hefted the saddlebags over her shoulder and walked to where the Coyote continued to pace. As she drew near, it became apparent that everything wasn’t quite right. His coat appeared shabby, almost to the point of being mange-ridden. One eye was missing, and his hind leg was nothing more than skeletal bone. She stepped into his path and pointed at his head. “Him.”

The beast walked right through her as though she wasn’t there. She blinked several times and muttered, “Or as though he isn’t there.” Turning to Ebi, she pointed again. “Did you see that? He walked right through me.”

Still not seeing anything, Ebi growled, You’ve finally gone a few peas short of a pudding, Duchess. There’s no one there. Shaking her head, she began to fade. She paused when only a thin mist remained. I almost forgot. Denabi says Becca and Kaiti are staying a few more days with Nashotah. Some of the Shona warriors were trapped in a rockslide, and they stayed to help. Not waiting for a reply, Ebi faded into the realms.

Bree barely heard her. The Coyote, who had turned and started back in her direction, was mumbling something Bree couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

Ignoring her, the Coyote walked through her again, and then he, too, faded from sight.

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Yoren, who didn’t believe in Spirit Guides, had become accustomed to the Duchess talking to herself. She’d noticed Bree walk to the dovecote and had come over to see whether she could be of assistance.

Shaking her head, Bree hefted her bags higher onto her shoulder. “No, I must be seeing things in the shadows.”

Without moving her head, Yoren looked first to the left and then to the right, assuring herself there were no shadows anywhere near where the Duchess now stood. Deciding to keep that detail to herself, the guardswoman simply said, “If I can help in any way….”

“No. Thank you. You can return to your post.” Bree strode across the grass courtyard and nodded to a third guard holding open the massive oak door leading into the great hall. She held the handle—a curved swan’s neck topped with a carving of a swan’s head and beak—and brought her right fist to her chest in salute.

“You know that’s not necessary, Idari.”

Idari, one of Bree’s private guardswomen, gave a lopsided half-smile. “Yes, Your Grace. Welcome back.”

Returning her smile, Bree sighed, “And all in one piece without having my guards along to protect me. Imagine that. I can actually take care of myself.” Not waiting for a response, she mounted the curved, stone staircase, climbed to the second-story landing, and let herself into her chambers. Seeing them empty, she stepped back onto the landing and yelled down the stairwell, “Idari.”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and, in a moment, Idari came to attention on the landing. “Your Grace?”

“I expected Liris would be here. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s not been in the castle since you left a fortnight ago. Perhaps she took rooms at the Yellow Horse Tavern in Orinshire. I know she was that upset when you wouldn’t allow us guards to accompany you to your steading.”

Even though Bree and Liris had become lovers over the last several moons, Liris had insisted on remaining her lead bodyguard, and Bree had fought hard to keep her independence. The combination had made for a rocky start to their relationship. She ran her hand through her short-cropped hair, “See if you can find her and let her know I’ve returned.”

As Idari bounded down the steps, the disheveled Coyote passed her coming up and walked straight into Bree’s bedchamber.

Sunshine streamed in through both windows in the far wall, giving the chamber enough light for Bree to get a good look at the scruffy Guide. At least, she assumed he was a Guide. She confirmed that the right hind leg was nothing more than a skeletal appendage, utterly devoid of any skin or fur. His tail was bleached bone, too. His light brown coat hung off him in tatters, and his muzzle continued to move as though he was silently talking to someone…or…something.

“Who are you?” Even though everyone in Anacafria had a Spirit Guide, no one in Bree’s family had ever acknowledged their existence, at least not while her parents were alive. Because of that, she wasn’t overly familiar with the tales and legends spoken of by the mystics and spiritualists who lived on the fringes of Anacafrian society.

The Coyote heard her question this time. He stopped pacing and stared myopically up at her. He had a telltale look in his one eye that some Guides get when they’re speaking mind-to-mind, but she didn’t hear a thing. The whole experience was unnerving enough that Bree swallowed her pride and called Ebi back. “Ebi. He’s back.” When the Badger didn’t appear, she angrily repeated her call. “Damnit, Ebi. You show up when I don’t want you around, and now, when I call you, you can’t be bothered to appear?”

To her consternation, a White Wolf appeared in front of the fireplace. Servants had laid a warm fire in anticipation of Bree’s arrival, and the Wolf circled once before settling atop an ornate, woven rug nestled between two wingback chairs.

Not everyone would have been able to see him, but since Bree was one of only a handful of people blessed with the Aevalian Gifts, she was acutely aware of his presence. Most people, if they could see their Guide at all, could only perceive their own mentor. Those with the Aevalian Gifts—people blessed by the Goddess Aevala, who it was said had created the Spirit Guides—could see and communicate with them all.

You bellowed, Your Imperiousness? The Wolf cocked his head and raised one mocking brow. Garan was Guide to Bree’s healer friend, Becca, and he never missed the chance to tease.

“If I’d wanted another scruffy, four-legged mongrel hanging about, I’d have called for you. It’s Ebi I need to talk to. Not you.”

Garan was anything but scruffy. His white coat was thick and healthy, and when standing, his head came to the middle of Bree’s chest. He pulled his head back and looked the picture of insulted dignity. You wound me, Duchess. Then his tongue lolled out the side of his muzzle, and the cheerful sparkle returned to his eyes. Another four-legged mongrel? Have you been stepping out on me, then?

Bree pointed to the Coyote, who’d resumed his pacing. “Who is this, and what does he want?”

Garan stared around the room and then narrowed his eyes. Are you feeling well, Oh Mighty One? Perhaps you’ve lost one of the links?

Not ever sure whether Garan was being serious or playing the fool, she shook her head in exasperation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ebi said you were seeing Guides that weren’t there, so I thought it would be fun to come and see for myself. He glanced around the room again. There’s no one here, and I’m wondering whether your mind has become a few links short of a complete set of chainmail. His jaw dropped, and his eyes narrowed into the wolfish equivalent of a hearty belly laugh.

Striding over to the Coyote, Bree reached down to grab the scruff of his neck. Usually, when Guides materialize, they’re as corporeal as any living being. Bree jumped back when her hand passed through the beast. She shot a quick glance at Garan. “Him! You see him, don’t you?”

Turning serious now, Garan rose and trotted to where Bree stood. He put his snout beneath her hand and pulled in a deep breath, then walked a complete circle around her before sitting at her feet. There’s nothing there, Duchess. You just returned from your steading? Perhaps a bit of sleep would be in order?

“I don’t need sleep, Garan. I need to know why I’m seeing this Guide and what I’m supposed to do about it.” Stepping to one of the chairs, she turned it so its back was to the Guide and threw herself into it. Angry at herself for even bringing the Coyote to his attention, she jammed her chin onto her fist and glowered into the fire.

Garan gave her one long, worried look before fading into the Realms.

CHAPTER TWO

After a few moments, the Coyote appeared in the middle of the flames, staring out at her with such intensity that Bree felt a chill run down her spine. A knock sounded behind her, and, grabbing any excuse to break the paralysis that had descended, she rose and pulled open the door.

Liris stood holding a tray full of venison rolls, three kinds of cheese, pastries, and wine. “I heard you were on your way home and came to the castle early to get a food tray ready for us. You’re usually starving by the time you arrive.”

Seeing her lover chased all thoughts of the strange Coyote from Bree’s mind. Smiling fondly at the woman who’d somehow captured her heart, she said softly, “I wondered where you’d gotten to.” She followed Liris into the small dining room set in one of the castle’s rounded turrets. The alcove contained a round table Bree’s mother had explicitly designed for the odd-shaped space.

Liris placed the tray on the table and turned toward Bree, who pulled her into her arms and held her tight.

Bree breathed deeply, enjoying Liris’ distinctive scent as she held her warm body tucked against her own. “I missed having you with me.” After a few moments, Bree held Liris away so she could look into her eyes. “Idari said you stayed at the Yellow Horse Tavern while I was gone. Why didn’t you stay here?”

Blushing, Liris picked up a long stick and began rearranging the logs in the fire. Each room in Bree’s suite had a fireplace, and whenever Bree was in residence, the servants lit them all unless given orders to the contrary. “I didn’t exactly stay at the Tavern.” Liris swept her short, dark hair off her eyes and moved to the table. “Are you hungry? Kirin fixed your favorite venison and leek rolls smothered in her special sauce.” She took several rolls from the platter and placed them on two plates already waiting on the table.

Recognizing a lateral move when she heard it, Bree rested a hand on her hip. “The only other tavern in Orinshire that’s fit for anything other than fleas and thieves is the Grey Bird Inn. You stayed there, then?”

Shaking her head, Liris handed Bree a full plate. “Why does it matter? You’re back safe and sound, and I definitely missed you, too.” She put a hand behind Bree’s neck, pulled her forward, and deposited a gentle kiss on lips drawn into a thin, suspicious line.

Bree pulled back as she came to the obvious conclusion. “You followed me. You followed me and camped out in the forest so I wouldn’t know you were still protecting me.”

Liris turned her back again and began filling her own plate. “Come on, Bree. Don’t be silly.”

Taking a seat in one of the winged-back chairs, Bree stabbed a roll and brought it to her mouth. “You know what. You were angry that I wouldn’t take guards, so you took matters into your own hands and followed me. Who else did you take with you?” She popped the roll into her mouth and angrily chewed.

“What makes you think I took someone?”

Bree had learned to read people growing up around the King’s castle in Cafria. She glanced up from cutting a chunk of cheese and stared at her lead guard. Over the last few moons, she’d had to learn to distinguish between her lover, her friend, and her guard. Otherwise, she and Liris wouldn’t be able to function. She let the silence stretch, knowing Liris would take her meaning. This cat-and-mouse game had lost its shine, and the Duchess was ready to move on.

Sighing, Liris brought her plate to the fire and sat in the other chair. “Only Leez and Magnus.”

Narrowing her eyes, Bree growled, “Leez and Magnus.” She took a bite of the cheese and then sipped her wine. “And just how do you think I survived before you came along? Do you think me so helpless that I can’t fight off a bandit or two?”

Times had changed since Liris had first come to Anacafria. Between assassins arriving from other countries and disgraced and vindictive lords wanting retribution against the Duchess of Danforth, Liris had her hands full. She opened her mouth to say so when she glanced up and saw Bree’s attention focused on something else entirely.

Liris’ guard immediately went up. She set her plate on the small table next to her chair and stood. “What is it?” There was no obvious danger in the room, so she walked to the window and began checking behind the heavy curtains on either side.

“It’s him. He keeps following me.” Bree pointed to the center of the room where the Coyote sat staring at her.

Liris looked at the wall she thought Bree was pointing to. A painting of the castle hung between the windows, and she moved closer to see if there was a figure standing somewhere in the picture.

“Not the picture. The Coyote. The Guide. He’s sitting right there staring at me. Can’t you see him?”

Blinking several times, Liris walked to where Bree pointed. “Here?”

Since Liris was practically standing on top of him, Bree hoped she could see the beast. “Yes! You see him?”

Concerned now, Liris shook her head. “No. What are you seeing? A ghost?” Liris came from the neighboring kingdom of Estia, where they believed in the spirits of their departed loved ones and had incidents in which only a ghost with prior knowledge of events could have helped with family affairs. Bree seeing a ghost was far less worrying than her seeing things that weren’t there.

Bree hadn’t considered that possibility. “Well. Maybe. I see a Coyote that’s as big as a Spirit Guide only…” she stopped to collect her thoughts. “…only Ebi and Garan couldn’t see him, and he’s a mess. His fur’s tattered and dusty looking, and his hind leg and tail are nothing but bone. No flesh. No muscle. Just bone.”

Returning to her seat, Liris picked up her plate and considered Bree’s description.

For her part, Bree was grateful that Liris believed her.

Finally, Liris said, “In Estia, this is the time of year we celebrate the Festival of Mares when the veil between this world and the next is the thinnest. Just because we’re not in Estia doesn’t mean the veil is thicker here. And…if I’m not mistaken,” she did some calculations in her head, “this is the time of Margolin. Something that only comes about once every fifteen years. The veil is practically non-existent for this one short day. It’s strange that the other Guides can’t see this one. But one thing I do know. If a ghost appears to someone during the Mares, you need to figure out what it is they want. Is he telling you anything?”

Bree appreciated having someone she could talk to about something as strange as seeing ghosts. It was rare to have a friend she could trust not to carry tales behind her back to courtiers more than willing to pay for gossip about the King’s favorite cousin. She sat back in her chair and relaxed. “Thank you for believing me.”

A blush rose in Liris’ cheeks when she saw the love shining from Bree’s eyes. “You have to figure out what he wants, or needs, tonight, or else the ghost will have to wait another fifteen years to try to contact you again. Do you have any idea what he wants?”

“I can’t hear him. It looks like he’s saying something, but I’m not hearing anything.”

As if he understood what the women were saying, the Coyote walked to the door and looked back at them.

“He’s moved to the door.”

“Well, let’s follow him then.” Once more, Liris set her plate on the table and stood.

The two women followed the Guide out into the hallway and down the stairs.

Idari, who was standing guard at the base of the stairs, brought her fist to her chest. “Your Grace?”

Bree didn’t answer, and Liris waved her off. “We’re fine, thanks.” They walked through the great hall, into the main dining room, and past the formal meeting rooms. When the Coyote moved into the family portrait gallery, Bree paused and looked at Liris. “The portrait gallery? What in Aevala’s name is he going in there for?”

Liris had spent a lot of time in the gallery. She loved history, and this room held portraits of every duke and duchess who held the title of Danforth, going back thirteen generations.

The Coyote sat in front of the tenth Duke, Spence Whittaker Makena.

When Bree stepped in front of the portrait, Liris took that to mean that it was the one the Guide had specified. She stepped up and read the plaque beneath the picture. “Do you know anything about him?”

Bree shook her head. “Nothing. That has to be from…” she stepped back and counted backward from her own portrait, “…around four hundred years ago.”

“Well then, we know where the next stop is.” Liris turned and headed for the door.

Bree caught up to her. “Where?”

“To see old Barnabus. He may be a potty old duffer, but he knows everything about the history of your family.”

“Barnabus. I forgot he was even still alive. He was old when my father was duke.”

When Liris pulled open one of two massive oak doors leading to the library, Bree breathed in the scent of the beeswax candles burning from sconces strategically set around the room. “I love that smell. Danforth is the only duchy where the bees—”

“Get their pollen from the Roseberry bushes that only grow in one spot in all of Anacafria.” Liris grinned at Bree’s abashed smile.

“I’ve told you that before, I guess.”

“Only about a hundred times. But you can tell me a hundred more times because I love how proud you are of your bees and keepers. And Danforth does produce the sweetest, most delectable honey I’ve ever had the pleasure to taste.” She gave Bree a wicked grin and was pleased to see her blush.

A wizened man wearing dark blue robes shuffled out of a side room. His back was so misshapen that instead of looking straight ahead, his eyes looked down to the floor. He bent sideways to look out onto the mostly empty room. “Anyone there? Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Barnabus. Liris.”

His entire face brightened at the mention of her name. “Ah, my wonderfully curious friend. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Two rows of six rectangular tables lined the middle of the room, and Barnabus shuffled down the middle aisle to greet her. When he drew near, he stopped and peered up at Bree. “You’ve brought a friend. Welcome, welcome to my home.” He swiveled around to peer at Liris. “Are you going to introduce us?”

Embarrassed, Liris looked at Bree, who said, “It’s Bree, Barnabus. It’s been too long, my friend.” She held out her hand, and when he placed his hand in hers, she covered it gently.

Again, the man’s expressive features lit with pleasure. “Little Bree. You’ve grown up!”

There was a chill in the air, and Bree automatically looked at the fireplace set in the corner. “Why isn’t your fire lit? It’s too cold in here for you.”

He shrugged, “Oh, I suppose it’s easy to forget an old man lives here amongst these ancient tomes. No matter. I wear several warm layers.” Gnarled fingers lifted the hem of his robe where bulky woolen trews hung down to the tops of fluffy, lambswool slippers.

Bree turned to Liris, but before she could say anything, Liris held up a hand. “I’ll take care of it.” She hurried out of the room, presumably to find someone to light the fire.

Barnabus motioned to a set of four wingback chairs, each with the Danforth crest embroidered into the backrest. “Please sit, Duchess.” He lifted cheerful brows. “For if you don’t, I can’t, and a man of my age would be horrified to end up on the floor at your feet.”

“Of course, forgive me, my friend. You know I don’t stand on that type of formality.” She took his elbow and helped him to the chairs.

“Ah, but I’m a product of my generation, and you know that I…do.” When he sat, he was able to look into Bree’s face without twisting painfully around. “You’re so much like your mother, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Liris came in, followed by a young serving maid who curtseyed to Bree before hurrying to the fireplace to set the logs and start the fire. Liris took one of the empty chairs and raised her brows, silently asking whether Bree had found anything out.

Barnabus caught the exchange and held out his hands. “How can I help you, Your Grace?”

Bree wasn’t sure how to begin, so she plunged right in. “I’m here to find information about one of my ancestors, Duke Spence Whittaker Makena. Would you know where I can find his history?” She swept her hand in an arc, indicating the thousands of books on the wall-to-wall shelves.

Barnabus got a sly look on his face and tapped his temple with a crooked finger. “Right here, my dear. Right here. Tragic. Tragic.” He shook his head sadly.

Bree waited a moment, but Barnabus seemed lost in thought. “What was tragic? I don’t know anything about him. Would you tell me, please?”

“Of course, I’ll tell you.” There was that pleased smile again. “Don’t you know that the best historians are master storytellers as well? Sit back and make yourself comfortable.” His voice had grown a bit raspy, and he pulled at his Adam’s apple and cleared his throat.

With the fire now burning cheerfully in the grate, the serving maid was just scurrying past when Bree called out, “Kylie, would you bring us a pitcher of wine and three glasses, please?”

“Yes, M’lady.” Kylie dipped into a quick curtsy and hurried from the room.

Barnabus nodded his thanks and began his tale. “So then. Spence Whittaker lived during the transition between the time when men and women revered the Spirit Guides and the beginning of the so-called spiritual cleansing. The land was suffering a horrific drought, and the holy men and women of the age believed Aevala was punishing Anacafria for their idol worship of the Guides. They convinced the King to circulate a writ proclaiming that anyone found speaking about a Spirit Guide was to be tried by the ecclesiastic council and burned at the stake if found guilty.” He pointed to Bree. “Your ancestor was said to have a close, loving relationship with his Guide, Morret.”

Liris, who was taking in every word, leaned forward. “What type of beast was Morret?”

“The records say he was a stunningly handsome Coyote.”

Bree and Liris exchanged looks, and then Bree said, “Go on.”

“The high priest at that time was a malicious popinjay named Inozenze Faramond. By all accounts, he was a cruel, detestable man who rushed Duke Makena to trial because he refused to repudiate his Guide. He found him guilty and burned him on the same day. Legend has it that when Spence’s Guide returned to find his apprentice burning, he leapt into the flames to save him. But, alas, it was too late. The Guide disappeared, never to be seen again.”

Bree felt a presence nearby, and she glanced around to find the Coyote sitting by the door, waiting. She rose and once again took the old man’s hand. “Thank you. I have to go, but forgive me for neglecting you and our friendship for so long. May I come visit you tomorrow, perhaps bring some lunch, and we can chat over old times?” The look of pure joy on Barnabus’ face made Bree silently vow to spend as much time as she could with the ancient archivist. “And I’ll also be sure your fires are lit every day from now on.”

Having a nagging feeling that time was running out, Bree hurried after the Coyote, who led her and Liris back through the great hall and out into the courtyard. To her dismay, the Guide began pacing back and forth in front of the same wall where he’d been when she’d arrived. “He’s pacing again. Do you think after four hundred years, he’s become senile?”

Liris shrugged. “You said his coat was ragged, and there was nothing but bone on his hind leg and tail. Does he look like he maybe survived a fire? Could he have survived when Spence didn’t?”

Now that Liris pointed out the obvious, Bree realized the Coyote’s coat did have ragged patches of a hide that looked scorched and burned. She nodded and stepped in front of the beast, who could only be Spence’s beloved Spirit Guide, Morret. Bree knelt and said, “Please. I don’t know what you want. How can I help you?”

Idari walked across the courtyard with old Barnabus on her arm. “Your Grace? I’m not sure what he means, but Barnabus says you left without hearing the most important part.”

Barnabus patted the hand Idari had wrapped around his forearm and, of necessity, spoke to her knee, “I may be ancient, my dear, but I can still speak for myself.” He twisted his body so that he could look directly at Bree. “You left so precipitously, I didn’t have time to mention one vital piece of historical significance. Legend holds that Spence’s son, Hanulf, built this structure,” he waved at the curtain wall surrounding the courtyard, “and interred the bones of his father within, thus imbuing these very walls with his sire’s strength and indomitable will.” Now he pointed to the entry gate where Yoren waited to see whether she’d be needed. “You may not realize this, Your Grace, but it was Hanulf who carved those words in the lintel above the gatehouse.”

Everyone glanced at the words etched into this side of the lintel, the same as those carved on the front.

Morret began scratching at the wall.

Bree knelt and ran her hand over the rough blocks before turning and calling to Yoren. “Yoren, bring me your pike, please.”

The guardswoman grabbed her pike from its stand and brought it over.

Bree took it and, feeling a bit foolish, began digging at the wall in front of Morret. At first, only small chunks of the ancient block and mortar fell away, but when Liris took Nordin’s staff and joined her, they began to make real progress. Soon, more pikes were brought, and the four of them, Bree, Liris, Yoren, and Idari, were digging away at the wall.

Bree’s pike suddenly broke through into a hollow chamber tucked into the ten-foot-thick wall. She cleared away a round opening at the base and called for a torch. The flames illuminated a tiny area, no bigger than a burial box. Within lay the skeleton of a man, laid out on his back with his hands curled around a sword resting on his chest. He wore the remnants of a tattered blue tunic bearing the Danforth crest, and on his right hand was the signet ring proclaiming his status as duke of the realm. Bree glanced down at her own ring that sparkled in the torch’s reflected light.

Morret stepped through the hole, turned, and brought his muzzle close to Bree’s face. He stared into her eyes a moment before lifting his muzzle and silently calling his thanks. When he’d finished, he lay down beside his apprentice.

For the briefest of moments, Bree saw a vision of a strapping blonde warrior sitting in the chamber with his arms encircling the neck of a magnificent, muscular Coyote. Like a soft breath tickling the back of her mind, she heard Morret’s faint whisper, “I thank you, Daughter of my Soulmate.”

Before she was ready, the vision was gone.

With tears streaming down her face, Bree turned to her friend. “I hope they’ll be together again on their journey through the Second Realm.”

They are.

Bree turned to see the revered Guide, Denabi, sitting in the courtyard surrounded by hundreds of Spirit Guides, many she knew, many she did not.

Denabi paced forward and peered into the chamber. They have indeed moved on to the Second Realm, Duchess. As you see, the bones no longer lie in wait. We’ve come to honor the loyalty of a forgotten Guide and friend.

After checking that the bones were indeed gone, Bree turned back to the now-empty courtyard. She not only had a new appreciation for her castle and her ancestors, but she’d gained a deep understanding of the meanings of honor, loyalty, and true love. The pride of being Makena, of descending from a long line of men and women who were the backbone of Anacafria, filled her heart to overflowing. “Rest easy now, Morret, soulmate of my most honored ancestor. Rest easy, and may the goddess Aevala bless the two of you in your journey through the Second Realm.”