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and blew her nose. She supposed she would have to trust him—but only so far. They did have a bond of sorts. Her uncle was trying to kill both of them. That threat tied them together whether they wanted to be or not.
    It was his intention of branding her uncle with the heinous crime of treason that troubled her. If Revan was really one of James II’s knights, that was easily explained. However, his interest might be born of darker origins. He could even be as deep into treasonous intrigues as he claimed her uncle was. If that was true, she could well find him as eager to be rid of her as her uncle was. She was going to have to depend on her instincts, and she was not feeling too confident about them at the moment. If nothing else, she could all too easily be led astray by the irrelevant fact that he was far too handsome, in form and face, for any woman’s peace of mind.
    Revan sighed and stood up, cautiously approaching her. He could tell she was crying, but he was not sure there was anything he could say to soothe her feelings. Her uncle was a traitor, a murderer, and a man greedy for power. There was no denying that. Neither could he tell her they would escape the danger they now found themselves in. He simply did not know. Feeling uncomfortable and a little helpless, he stood behind her and ran a hand through his thick hair.
    “I havena lied. I really am one of the king’s own knights.”
    Trying to wipe her eyes dry again, she grumbled, “Ye will pardon me, I am sure, if I am slow to believe you. I dinna ken too many king’s knights who kidnap innocent people or threaten to cut their throats.”
    “I wasna truly going to murder you.”
    “Nay? What would ye have done if they had called your bluff?”
    “Died.”
    That flat answer caused her to turn. She saw no sign of lying in his face. He looked almost as miserable as she felt. She made her decision. There really was no other choice for her. She would trust him, but while telling him what she knew, she would keep a close eye on him.
    “I have seen that my uncle has grown friendly with the Black Douglases. Messengers come and go between them,” she said, turning to stare out the opening again. “My uncle has but recently added many new men-at-arms. His armorer works without ceasing. Fletchers have gathered nearby as well. I had begun to fear we were about to be attacked or raided.”
    “Or were preparing to attack someone else. Have ye seen or heard anything like that?”
    “Nay, I dinna think so. I havena seen any army, if that is what ye are asking. If ’tis treason afoot, the ones involved will be careful about what they say or do.” She took a deep shaky breath, further subduing her weepiness.
    “Aye. However, the Black Douglases have been bold. Sadly not so bold ye ken their every step.”
    “What can my uncle think to gain from this?” She looked at him. “He isna close to the throne.”
    “Nay, but the Black Douglases are. After James the First was murdered, they were but one small lad away from the throne.”
    “Aye, and look what befell those who murdered that king. Ye would think their tortured deaths wouldna be forgotten so easily. My uncle has spent a great amount of coin on men and arms. He must be certain of some reward, something greater than he has spent.” She shook her head.
    “ ’Tis all of that coin flowing so freely that led me to him. Ye are certain ye heard no firm plans? Ye said messengers have been sent between them. Did ye never hear what came from the Black Douglases? Or hear your uncle tell his messenger anything ere he sent him off?”
    She frowned as she thought over his questions. Leaning against the rock, she tried to grasp at some elusive memory. Then it came. She groaned slightly, lightly slapping her palm against her forehead. It had been right before her eyes all the time.
    “The tunnel!” she cried. “Where have my wits gone?”
    “The tunnel?”
    Revan could tell by the look on her face that she had