In the dim light, the room was much the same as she'd suspected, bare stone walls and a smooth, stone floor. It wasn't quite as big as it had felt in the complete darkness, but it wasn't small. Aside from the high sconces every few feet along the walls, it was completely empty.

She was reaching up to set the candlestick she was holding in one of the sconces, when they suddenly heard a light patter of footsteps across the kitchen floor upstairs. They both froze, listening.

The steps kept crossing, moving toward the back of the kitchen; when she strained to listen, she could hear separate patterns, one heavier than the other.

"Two?" she mouthed to William.

He nodded.

As soon as the footsteps crossed back into where she was sure the pantry must be, she extinguished her candle. They flew around the room blowing out the candles they'd lit, and ran for the alcove under the stairs, their motions perfectly in sync, though they didn't speak.

William, holding a single candle, climbed over boxes until he reached one large enough to conceal them both. Quinn slid in next to him just as they heard the quiet whoosh of the trapdoor opening. He licked his thumb and forefinger, and pinched the tiny flame.

Neither one of them breathed as the footsteps moved down the wooden steps. Though she didn't dare to look up and over the wooden box that sheltered them, peering barely around the side of the box, she could see a feeble, flickering circle of light dissipating the shadows near the bottom of the stairs.

The footsteps came to rest on the stone floor, and she was able to make out a shadow no, two shadows, and two small flames. Needing to know, she stretched just a bit further around the box; William caught the back of her shirt and pulled her toward him.

"Lady Quinn?" It was a woman's voice, but Quinn couldn't place the soft, almost whispering, tone. The small circles of light moved cautiously around the room. "Prince William?"

"Where are you?" The second voice was male, and though he, too, spoke just barely above a whisper, it sounded more familiar to her. "It's Andrew and Natalie. It's all right. You're safe."

"Who?" Quinn jumped at the sudden feeling of William's breath, directly in her ear.

She felt for his shoulder, to squeeze it gently. "I think it's okay," she whispered back.

"We're here," she called quietly. "What are you doing here?"

She had completely forgotten about the young couple she had met when she'd arrived here yesterday. She wondered what they had been doing all day today she hadn't seen either of them since she'd gone into the sitting room yesterday and announced that she needed to rest.

Natalie had nodded reassuringly at her, and said something about seeing her at dinner, but Quinn had slept right through that.

"We're looking for you," Andrew answered.

William stood up, positioning himself in front of Quinn. "Who are you?"

"My name is Andrew Gramble. This is my wife, Natalie. We are Friends of Philip." He stretched the candle he was holding toward William, and used his free hand to pull the collar of his shirt to the side, revealing the small tattoo.

William's tension tangibly eased, and he started climbing back over the boxes to reach Andrew and Natalie. He held one hand up behind him, as if he were cautioning Quinn to stay back, but she ignored him and went around the box the other way.

"What are you doing here? How did you find us?" William asked.

"We've been here..." Andrew started.

"I met them," Quinn interrupted. "But I haven't seen them since mid-afternoon yesterday. I completely forgot they were here." She turned back to the couple. "Where have you been?"

"My wife hasn't been ... feeling so well," Andrew answered, putting his arms around Natalie protectively. Quinn looked over at her and saw how pale her face was in the dim candlelight. As she started to turn her attention back to William, she caught a glimpse of the young woman's shadow, and was startled to notice a round bulge under her dress. "I've been staying with her in our room, hoping she can get some rest."

William nodded; she could tell that he'd seen Natalie's condition before she had. "How did you find us?" he asked again.

"Once we heart Tolliver, we were certain that Ellen would have shown you how to get down here. We hid in our room until we saw through the window that Tolliver and Ellen left to go riding, and then we came."

"What is Tolliver doing here?" Quinn asked.

Andrew shrugged. "I'm sure we will have a chance to hear about it later. He drops by to visit Ellen on occasion, I know. He still thinks he has some kind of influence over her."

"Doesn't he? Did you know that Ellen is Tolliver's sister?" William's voice was rough.

A deep crease appeared in Andrew's forehead. "Yes, of course. Half-sister, anyway. Ellen is the daughter of Queen Sophia and King Jonathan. Did you not know?"

William shook his head. "No. We had no idea. Why have we been brought to the home of Tolliver's half-sister?"

"There aren't many safer safe houses than this one. There isn't much I would put past Tolliver, but he won't interfere with Ellen."

The frustration was building inside her. "If this house is so safe, then why are we locked in a dark basement with no information?"

Not for the first time, Andrew's expression was completely confused. He turned to look at his wife, mouthing something at her that she didn't catch. Natalie shrugged her shoulders, her confusion matching his.

William's voice changed from puzzled to shocked. "Are you saying that Tolliver's own sister is part of the resistance against him?"

"Of course. Jonathan's children wish to see the crown of Philotheum restored to where it belongs more than anything."

Quinn considered this.

"Are you all right?" William's concerned voice interrupted her thoughts. She followed his gaze, and saw immediately who he meant. Natalie, who had been standing there silently throughout the exchange, was now trembling. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

William didn't wait for her to answer; he pulled one of the crates from the alcove over to Natalie. "I'm all right ... just tired," she said, as William and Andrew both helped lower her down onto it.

"How long before the baby is due?" William asked, his eyes darting between Natalie and her husband.

"Another week or so," Andrew told him.

William raised his eyebrows, as did Quinn. "In other words," he said, "any time now?"

Natalie nodded. "I don't think it's time yet, though. It's just been a very difficult few days for us."

"Is this your first baby?"

"Yes, but my aunt is the midwife in Harber Village. I've seen plenty of babies born. There aren't any signs that this little one is ready to come today."

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "I'm okay. It's just a backache."

Just then, there was another sound upstairs. A soft thud, perhaps a door closing, was followed by two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one that was lighter. Quinn's heart began racing again.

"Sounds as though Tolliver has returned," Andrew whispered.

The four of them were silent, each straining to listen to the muffled conversation that drifted through the floorboards.

"When should we expect Henry to decide to join us?" Quinn could almost see the condescending sneer on Tolliver's face.

"He'll be here when he gets here. You're the one who showed up unannounced, remember?"

"Fine. Then I guess we can begin our discussion without him."

"Ah... I rather wondered when you would drop the charade of just coming by to visit with your sister."

"Speaking of that, darling sister, I'm thinking that it's high time you began meeting your familial obligations and supporting your brother."

"Excuse me?"

"Let's not pretend you don't know what I mean. I'm going to need your undivided support once I become king."

Quinn's stomach turned furiously, and William moved closer beside her.

"Whatever makes you think I would give it to you, Tolliver?"

"Do you not value your property here, this home, this life of luxury you lead?"

"Don't make me laugh, little brother. Does your father even know you're here? Does Mother?"

William raised his eyebrows. Quinn glanced over at Natalie and Andrew. They were listening to the conversation overhead, but they didn't seem particularly surprised.

"Look, Ellen. I need your help with something. And you are going to give it to me."

"Does this have anything to do with your ridiculous scheme of holding captive a prince of Eirentheos?"

William reached out towards Quinn, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"What? How do you know about that?"

"Keep trying me, Tolliver. You'll find out what I know, and it won't be to your benefit. So what is this asinine plan of yours with that boy? What do you possibly hope to accomplish by taking one of Stephen's sons?"

"I'm not going to keep him. It's not one of his sons that I'm after. And this is where your help comes in. I need someone with your ... diplomacy skills to help me make the exchange."

Ellen's laughter shook the floor.

"I don't know why you're laughing, Ellen. You owe this to me, to your future king."

"I think you have me confused with someone else, Tolliver. Are you still obsessed with the stupid stories from that fortune-teller of your father's? You really believe you can become the "true heir of Philotheum" by forcing one of Stephen's daughters into a marriage nobody wants?"

"The prophecy is very clear about the thrones being united, sister."

"Uh-huh... This is the same guy that threatened grave risk to Samuel's child, right? Too bad he didn't see Samuel dying before he was even of age. How your father's little oracle didn't see the death of the stepson your father was supposed to be protecting is beyond me, especially when it was a death they were plotting together."

"Oh, stop. My father had nothing to do with that idiot falling into a river and going over a waterfall."

"Yeah ... a skilled outdoorsman like Samuel just 'fell into a river' and drowned, never to be seen again."

"However skilled you may have perceived your big brother to be, Ellen, he's dead, and he's not our concern anymore."

"Our oldest brother being dead does not make you heir to the throne, Tolliver. And even marrying a princess of Eirentheos wouldn't change that."

"I don't see anyone else standing in line, Ellen, do you?"

"The last time I checked, Charles was alive and well."

"And just what do you plan to do with him? He's not even in the kingdom unless you're hiding him, too. Besides which, he's a third-born. Even with your ridiculous traditions, he's not the rightful heir to the throne."

"A third-born prince is better than a sixth-born nobody, Tolliver. Besides, he has an heir. And in the absence of an heir from Samuel or from me, the crown rightfully belongs to Charles' child."

"The child can't possibly be of age."

"Do you think that matters to the people of Philotheum? Or Eirentheos, for that matter? And have you even considered what will happen if you do something to their prince?"

"I had heard rumors that Charles' first-born was only a girl no threat to me."

"For a person who has no regard for our history and traditions, you seem to rely heavily on inconsequential details to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that thus far, all of our kings have managed to produce sons as their first-borns doesn't mean anything. There is no rule against a girl taking the throne."

The silence was palpable. Having had her own experience seeing the amount of regard Tolliver had for women, she had no trouble imagining the look on his face now.

"And surely, dear little brother, it hasn't escaped your notice that Stephen has much more to offer in the way of eligible sons than he does daughters."

"You can't be suggesting ..."

"I'm not suggesting anything, Tolliver. You are not prepared for war against your own people and Eirentheos. I'm willing to bet that your father doesn't know the half of what you are doing, and that Mother knows nothing. And who do you think would stand behind you if a royal firstborn of Philotheum were to marry into the Eirenthean line? Whatever support you think you have would disappear overnight.

"Furthermore, I've met Stephen. If you allowed something to happen to his son ... the Maker help you. Don't force his hand or mine. Return the boy. And do it now."

Quinn's hand was sweaty as she clutched William's for dear life. Both of them struggled to remember to breathe.

"Do you really know where Charles' heir is?"

"Do you want to find that out?"

"If I return Thomas, how do I know that you won't just turn around and produce Charles and his heir?"

"You don't."

The silence in the air was thick, on both sides of the wooden floor. Quinn was starting to feel dizzy from straining to listen over the train-like pounding of her heart.

Andrew was kneeling beside his wife, his arms around her, his head pressed against her round belly. Quinn was amazed she could have missed it the day before. Natalie didn't look very well.

Suddenly, Tolliver laughed. The sound turned Quinn's stomach. "I think I'll go out to your stables and check on my horse. Let me know when dinner is ready, will you?"