She was the High Priestess. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. Winifred pointed to the door. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off.
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