Elias looked at the fire.
So that was the second hunt.
Not merely the child.
Evidence.
He had wondered why Valcourt had offered so much money.
Ten thousand francs was absurd for a retrieval unless something larger was being recovered.
“He thinks you have them.”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
Clara studied him.
“No.”
Elias almost laughed.
“Good.”
She blinked.
“You believe me?”
“No.”
For the first time, something passed over her face that was almost amusement.
It disappeared quickly.
“Where are they?”
“Safe.”
“Then keep them safe.”
She stared at him.
That was the first moment the balance between them changed.
Not trust.
Possibility.
Luc stirred again.
Clara looked down.
Elias rose.
“You need to leave before dawn.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“South.”
“They’ll expect south.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“They’ll expect you to believe they expect south. So you’ll go east.”
“And you’ll go south.”
“No.”
“You’re staying?”
“I’m going north.”
Clara stared.
“You’re going back to them.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To tell them you’re dead.”
Silence.
The brazier cracked.
Clara tightened the coat around herself.
“They won’t believe you.”
“They will if I show them something.”
“What?”
Elias looked at her boots.
“The child’s blanket.”
Her arms locked around Luc.
“No.”
“The outer linen.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“No.”
“The crest is what they’ll recognise.”
“You want me to hand you proof that you found us.”
“I want you to hand me proof that convinces them they don’t need to continue looking.”
She shook her head.
“They will ask for the body.”
“Not immediately.”
“And when they do?”
“I’ll give them a ravine.”
“That sounds like the beginning of a very bad plan.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you calm?”
“Because I’ve had worse ones.”
Clara looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said, “They’ll kill you.”
The statement was almost clinical.
Perhaps she wanted to see if he understood.
“Yes.”
“You say that like it means nothing.”
“It means something.”
“What?”
Elias looked at the flames.
He saw, unexpectedly, his daughter’s red scarf.
Twenty years vanished.
A small body beneath blankets.
His wife beside the bed whispering that the fever was worse.
Him outside in the snow because he could not bear the sound of the child struggling to breathe.
Cowardice came in many forms.
Sometimes it looked like leaving a room.
Sometimes it looked like taking money and refusing to ask questions.
He looked at Clara.
“It means I would prefer they didn’t.”
Her mouth tightened.
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
He moved toward the door.
Clara panicked.
“Where are you going?”
“To check the road.”
“You’ll leave us here.”
“I’ll come back.”
“You expect me to trust that?”
“No.”
He paused.
“But if I intended to take the child, I could have done it ten minutes ago.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“No.”
He opened the door.
Cold air rushed in.
Then he stopped.
Footprints.
Not his.
Fresh.
At the edge of the barn.
Elias extinguished the lantern immediately.
“Put out the brazier.”
Clara froze.
“Now.”
She kicked snow over the coals.
