“I’m sorry, milady. I’d do just about anything fer ye, but this will only end in disaster.”
What? No, no. He had to help.
There must be a way to get a message to Rían. He wasn’t some nameless Danú, he was a Prince of Tearmann. Surely other people in his world would know him. If they didn’t know him, they’d knowofhim.
Who else could help?
None of the lords or ladies in my acquaintance. On the off chance they did know Rían, admitting such a connection would be akin to social suicide. Prince or not, he was Danú.
I needed someone worldly.
Someone who knew all the gossip, heard all the whispers.
Someone like . . .
Dame Meranda.
I turned to Padraig, the barest vestiges of a plan forming in my mind. “Saddle my horse, please.”
“Yer upset. Why don’t I drive ye instead?”
“I’m fine, Padraig.” At least I would be once I found Rían.
Padraig’s wrinkled brow furrowed as he studied me. I was sure he’d protest again. Instead, he bobbed his head and hobbled back to the stable.
I should’ve changed my dress but didn’t want to waste any time. I dashed inside to collect a cloak from the closet and met Padraig at the start of the drive.
In no time at all, I found myself passing Graystones’s welcome sign, descending toward town. Most of the shops had closed for the evening, but the sign hanging in Meranda’s window still said “Open.”
When I tried the knob, I found it locked.
I knocked once. No answer.
Twice. A third time.
“Meranda? It’s Lady Aveen. I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
The door flew open.
Meranda’s fiery hair wasn’t in its usual pile atop her head but tumbling free in a mess of frizz around her shoulders. Her eyes widened when her gaze fell to my skirts. “Heavens above, Lady Aveen. What happened?”
“I need your help. I need to get a message to someone but I’m not sure how to reach him. And I thought perhaps you would know or would’ve heard of someone who may know how to—”
“Aveen?” Meranda’s hands came to rest on my arms. “Take a breath. I don’t know if I can help ye, but I will certainly try. Who is this person yer looking for?”
Right. Time for the tricky part. “He doesn’t live in Graystones.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Where does he live?”
“Tearmann.”
Meranda’s hands dropped. “Why did you come to me then?”
“You seem to know everyone. And I met Rían in town, so I thought—”
“Rían, you say? As in, Prince-of-Tearmann Rían?”
“So you have heard of him.”Thank god she knows him.Wait . . . why did she know him? Never mind. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she could help me—if shewould. “Do you know of anyone who could get an urgent message to him?”