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the valley lay below. A shadow of worry crept over his features, and Will was shocked to see it. His brother was as stout-hearted as a lion.
    "Aye," Hugh said, all trace of his usual bluster gone. "I just pray the king grants our petition."
    "He must," said Will. "King Henry will listen to reason. He's an educated man."
    Hugh brightened and grinned at him. "Well. We'll not hold that against him. Yet." He studied Will for a moment, then said with a nod, "We'll send news as soon as we have it. Now I'll leave you, little brother, to your thinking ride." He gave Will a swift punch in the arm for a farewell and wheeled his horse around. "And give the girl a kiss for me!" he called over his shoulder as he galloped away.
    Will watched until Hugh became a distant figure. For once he didn't mind being left behind while his father and brother tended to the business of the estate. The land dispute would be settled soon anyway. Despite his rough ways, the Earl of Umbric was no fool. Neither was Hugh. They didn't need him.
    Need him? Will's mouth curled into an ironic smile. They barely noticed him. As younger son, he wasn't master here at Hartescross (though everyone usually did as he bade them) and he wasn't servant (though he was told often enough what to do). Neither master nor servant. Neither idle nor employed. Just something in between. Would he ever find his place?
    Will sighed. Somehow he didn't think it was at Hartescross.
    He gave Hannibal free rein and trotted down the hill and into the meadow. The young man wandering there seemed put off at seeing the earl's son, for he gave a nervous tug on his cap and stumbled away.
    After but a few steps, Will observed, the young man encountered a group of villagers, themselves running through the meadow with raucous shouts. Some exchange took place. It involved heated gestures toward Will and the woods beyond. And quite a bit more scratching. Finally the whole lot turned and walked with an air of glum resignation back toward the village.
    Will shrugged and turned his horse toward the forest, where the girl had gone.
    It was a foolhardy thing to do, he thought. Surely the chit knew it was forbidden. No one entered the wood without the permission of the earl. Not that his father would care if a young maid went wandering in the northern woods. But if the gamekeeper spotted her, she would likely have a thrashing. Miles was an ill-tempered sort. Foolish maiden or poacher, it made no difference, he would exact punishment first and ask questions later.
    Will gave a puzzled look down at the grass to see what she had dropped so deliberately. A small tuft of gray wool. The girl was a mystery. A dark-haired enigma with huge blue eyes. He pretended not to notice her each time he rode through the village, something that he had found himself doing more and more of late. He didn't even know her name. But today, he decided, he would find out.
    "Come out of there," Will shouted. More quietly, he added, "Hello?" He watched the wall of trees for a sign of her. When there was no response, he dismounted. He led Hannibal into the woods.

Chapter 7

After school Tessa walked home as usual. Meaning she ran. She barely looked up as she raced across Harbor Square; her feet had memorized every step long ago. Tessa's pace slowed as she approached the Artist's Shelf. Here she stopped and let her eyes linger for a minute on the display of starched white canvases, tubes of paint and sticks of rich oil pastels. She smiled at the tumbled array of colors, then sighed and kept moving. She was going to be late for work.
    Their building sat in the middle of Portland's Old Port district. The handsome brick three-story had been built in the eighteen hundreds and stood on one of the "quaint winding lanes perched above a working waterfront." At least, that was how the summer guidebook described it. She glanced around the quiet street before going in. In the summer these streets were filled (or at least busy) with tourists. The