There must be no misunderstanding between them, even if she had to repeat the bitter mouthful. Not this time. “This is a trap,” she repeated, voice rising. “If you never again believe anything I tell you, please believe me now, for your own sake! There are soldiers—” “How many?” The urgency in his voice belied his placid expression as he turned to scan the room. “At least twenty, perhaps more.” She stared, perplexed by his calm. “Weapons?” “Yes.” He fixed her with a look of exasperation, and she cringed and stammered, “P-pistols and swords.” “Led by?” She hesitated. “Your brother.” Sebastién nodded, his face a mask. He considered her for a long moment, and then reached into the folds of his cloak. “One more question,” he said. “Have you ever seen this before?” He withdrew his hand and opened his palm to reveal an elaborate signet ring.
