Amaranthe looked at Sicarius, who remained motionless, ear cocked in the direction of the last outside noise. “An unfortunate coincidence,” she said. “Are you sure it’s a coincidence?” Books asked. She adjusted her weight on the narrow perch. A sliver of wood broke away and spiraled to the floor. “If it was looking for us specifically, I think it’d take a more direct route.” “Perhaps,” Books said, “but isn’t
