“And the other one?” she murmurs. Other one? “Holland’s bringing him. Any second now.” Walsh sounds breathless, excited even, about whoever we’re waiting for. Even Farley’s eyes shine. “What is it? Who else joined up?” They don’t answer me, exchanging glances instead. A few names run through my head, servants and kitchen boys who would support the cause. But the person who joins us is no servant. He’s not even Red. “Maven.”
