I cast a glance over toward where Aiana had gone in her bedroom. “Is the reason you haven’t chosen someone . . . are you and Aiana, I mean . . .”

It took Mira a few moments to understand, and she shook her head. “No, no. Aiana’s been good to me . . . a, uh, mentor of sorts. But I like men. I just don’t like any one of the ones I’ve met.”

Seeing as I’d already embarrassed myself, I figured I should go the whole way. “Before you came to Blue Spring Manor, did anything ever happen between you and Cedric?”

She seemed to find that even more incredible. “No. Why would you think that?”

I flushed. “He’s always liked you. And he did so much for you.”

Mira’s smile was gentle. “He did so much for me because he’s a kind man. And we’ll find a way to save him.”

They left me alone with my whirling thoughts. I’d come up with some brilliant, outlandish idea—like breaking in and rescuing Cedric—and then the reality would hit, plunging me into despair. It was mentally exhausting, and I’d decided to go to bed when a knock sounded at the door.

Remembering Aiana’s warnings, I nearly made no response at all. Then, I crept forward and asked, “Who’s there?”

“Gideon Stewart.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I’m a minister—from Grashond. I helped bring your friend Tamsin back.”

Memories of the day of her return stirred in me. Most of the Grashond delegates had blurred together, but the more I thought about it, the more his name began to sound familiar. I was still reluctant to open the door.

“What do you want?”

“I might know a way to save Mister Thorn. It involves the colony of Westhaven, but I’d need your help.”

At the mention of Westhaven, I couldn’t resist. I opened the door and found the handsome blond man who’d come to Wisteria Hollow. He wore the same drab attire as before. After casting a quick glance down the hall, I waved him in and shut the door.

“Well?” I kept my arms crossed over me. Religious purist or not, I wanted to be cautious.

“I was at the courthouse today . . . and I’m very sorry for what you’re going through,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think they’ll be able to rule on the dispute. Too many contradictions, no proof. With no one killed, they’ll write it off as a brawl.”

My heart sank. Of course I was glad that meant Cedric wouldn’t be implicated, but I hated the thought of Warren going unpunished.

Gideon made a face. “Unfortunately, I think the Alanzan charge will hold. Even without actual worship, those artifacts are damning. I’ve seen men convicted for far less. Those in power will accept that witness’s statement, and I’m sure Warren Doyle has enough sway to get the full punishment enforced—probably immediately.”

“Death.” I sank into the chair. I was on a precipice with Cedric again. If he died, I would fall and fall forever. “So what miracle can you pull out? Do the Heirs have some special power?”

He gave me a small smile. “No. But the colony of Westhaven does. Those who’ve bought a stake would technically be citizens of it. The reciprocal privilege between the colonies allows citizens from outside to practice certain things, even if they’re illegal in that colony—so long as they don’t break any other laws. This would apply to Cedric. The fight in Hadisen had nothing to do with the Alanzans.”

“That’s great,” I said, “except Cedric’s not a citizen of Westhaven. Though it hasn’t been for lack of trying.”

“There are representatives from Westhaven in the city right now, and they’ve been selling stakes. If Cedric was able to purchase one, and you found an attorney to go over the paperwork and, how shall I put this, modify the date, Cedric could claim retroactive protection as a citizen of Westhaven. Assuming you could find that kind of attorney. I suppose in this town, you can find anything.”

I sat up straight, too shocked by this possibility to even reflect on a righteous minister suggesting something so illegal. “I might . . . might know an attorney who would.”

Gideon brightened. “Then you just need to buy the stake.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about it. I know how much those cost. And we don’t have—” I groaned as the answer hit me. “I know where I can get the money. Maybe. But it won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure it won’t. I wish . . . I wish I could help you on that front. But I’ve already spent my savings buying my own stake.”

I regarded him in astonishment. “Why would a minister from the Heirs of Uros buy a stake in a religiously tolerant colony—one that’s already getting a reputation for wild ways?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Because this minister isn’t so sure he agrees with his brethren anymore.”

“Is that why you’re sympathetic to Cedric?” I asked softly.

“Somewhat. If someone’s beliefs aren’t hurting others, I don’t believe they should be punished for it. And . . .” His face fell. “You were her friend. She spoke of you often. I couldn’t help her, but maybe . . . maybe I can help you.”

“Tamsin,” I said. Familiar tears stung my eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I did what I could to find her—to find out what happened to her that night . . .” He looked genuinely distraught, melting my earlier wariness.

“It’s okay,” I said. “There’s nothing any of us could have done.” But as I reflected on the bizarre inconsistences around Warren’s story about what had happened to Tamsin, I wondered if that was true.

“I don’t know if that’s the case, but I’ll have to come to terms with that later.” He shook off his grief and focused on me again. “For now, tell me how I can help.”

I thought about it. “Can you get me a horse?”

“I have one downstairs. I rode it out from Wisteria Hollow.”

“Well, that’s the first thing that’s worked out for me in a while. Give me a few minutes.” I left him to change out of the dress and into my split skirt and blouse. They’d been laundered and looked a little better. As expected, I also found various weapons hidden around Aiana’s home and helped myself to another knife. Then I penned a quick note and gave it to Gideon with instructions to deliver it to Nicholas Adelton.

“He’s the attorney who’ll help?” Gideon asked.

“I think so.” I considered. “I hope so.”

We went downstairs and found a perky mare tethered in front of the tavern. Gideon patted her. “Her name is Beth.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “Lizzie and Beth. I can’t escape my past.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just get that letter to Mister Adelton.”

Gideon scrutinized me nervously. “You aren’t going to do anything dangerous, are you? Should I . . . should I come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, hoping that was true. “Just going for a short ride.”

My short ride, of course, was actually a two-hour one outside the city to Walter’s contact, the one holding my painting. Dusk was falling, and I rode out with my hat pulled low, hoping it wouldn’t be immediately obvious I was a woman. Denham was an established colony and certainly not lawless, but it had its dark element just like any other place. And until the world changed drastically, a woman riding out alone in the night was at risk.