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claim anything she wished, but that didn’t change what everyone knew about her past. It didn’t erase what she had done. In some cases, nothing could. It was too close, too personal—as with Traunt Rowan and Iridia Eleri, the two among these conspirators who sought vengeance for acts committed by the Ilse Witch and forgotten by the Ard Rhys. The others were simply hungry to employ their magic and sate their ambitions in ways that were forbidden. But for each, to realize desires meant getting rid of Grianne.
    This tension didn’t start and end with the five gathered in secret here. It manifested itself in other splinter groups, as well, all of them working to achieve something secret, all of them with goals and hungers that were in some way in conflict with the Third Druid Council as Grianne Ohmsford had conceived it. It wasn’t a question of
if
she would be done away with; it was merely a question of
when
.
    And a question of who would prove clever and bold enough to make it happen, of course. And then be strong enough to take charge of the order, once she was gone and a new Ard Rhys was needed.
    Some part of Shadea a’Ru, some tiny bit of reason shoved far back into the darker corners of her consciousness, accepted that not all of those who had come to Paranor to begin life as Druids felt as she did. Some admired Grianne and believed her right for the position—strong, determined, tested, and unafraid. But Shadea a’Ru would not allow herself to think well of those because to do so might give credibility to their loyalty, and she believed that to be a weakness she could not afford. Better to see them as sycophants and deceivers and to plan for their removal, as well, once the path was clear to do so.
    Iridia was still standing by the door, listening. Everyone was waiting on her now, watching silently. “What is it?” Shadea asked finally, irritated and impatient.
    The sorceress stepped back and stared at the portal as if it were an enemy that needed dispatching. Her distrust of everyone and everything ran deep and unchecked. Even Shadea herself merited Iridia’s suspicion. She was beautiful and talented, but deeply flawed. Her personal demons ran loose through her predatory mind, and someday they were going to turn on her.
    â€œI heard something moving,” she said, turning away, dismissing the matter. “I just wanted to be certain the warding was still in place.”
    â€œYou set it yourself,” Shadea pointed out.
    Iridia did not look at her. “It could have been tampered with. Better to be sure.” She returned to the bench and sat down. For a moment, she said nothing more. Then she glanced up at Shadea, as if remembering her. “What were you saying?”
    â€œShe was saying she has found a way to solve our problem with the Ard Rhys.” Traunt Rowan picked up the loose thread of the conversation with his calming voice. “Without posing any danger to us.”
    â€œThere is a potion I have a chance to obtain,” Shadea told them. “Mixed with a spell, it produces a magic strong enough to work against anyone, no matter how well prepared they are. The potion is called liquid night. Together with the spell, it will dispatch the intended victim to another place. It doesn’t kill them; they simply disappear. No blame attaches because there is no body. There isn’t even a residue to tell any searchers what happened. Everything disappears in a few hours, victim and magic alike.”
    Pyson shook his head. “There is no such magic. I know most, have read about the ones I do not know, and I have never heard of liquid night.”
    â€œThat is because it isn’t from this world,” Shadea said. “It is from the world into which I am sending the Ard Rhys.”
    They stared at her with a mix of expressions. “What world would that be?” Traunt Rowan asked finally.
    She shook her head. “Oh, no, Traunt. I