The music from the hall reaches the terrace only as a murmur, and the night air is sharp with the cold of the mountains. You came out here to be unseen, and you are not alone. Madoc MacLaren stands at the stone rail with his back to the door, and he has been waiting for you.
He does not turn around when you step out. He says it to the dark in front of him.
"I watched you go down,"
he says.
"And before you hit the floor, I had already seen the way my brother was moving toward you. So I know two things tonight I did not know at noon."
Now he turns, and the winter-river eyes find you, and hold you, and do not let go.
"First: Bran has wanted you for years, and he has kept it from everyone, including me. Second: so have I."
He comes away from the rail, and his voice does not rise, and that is the frightening thing about it — the absolute calm of a man who has already decided the ending.
"Here is how tonight goes. You think you are the shadow. You are not. You are the one thing in this territory my brother and I have not once shared, and that ends tonight."
He stops close, so close the heat of him cuts the mountain cold.
"Not here. Not within reach of your sister's eyes."
Then, before you can step back, he holds out his hand, palm up, and his eyes do not waver.
"Come with me. I am not asking twice."