Kathryn Ann Kingsley

“If you are not my husband,” she said to the shadows with a slight, self-effacing smirk, “then I have summoned you by mistake. I forgive you for the damage to my fence and will say that our inconveniences are now matched. If you come in kindness, I will have dinner on the table shortly. While I do not have much, I have enough to share.”

“If you are not my husband, then I have summoned you by mistake.”

It took every ounce of Valroy’s willpower not to howl in laughter at the irony.

But that was not what concerned her. That was not what made fear crawl up her spine.

It was that the wooden goblet he lifted to his lips should have been filled with water. Water was what was in the pitcher. Water was what he poured out.

But what stained his lips was wine.

I have made a terrible mistake