Emory shook his head. “But the ruins aren’t the oldest thing in Blunder.” He looked up at me, a glimmer in his gray eyes. “The trees are. If the Shepherd King did live here, he would have taken the name of the trees, the way everyone did. And what kind of trees are planted all along the estate, even near the ruins?” His smile widened. “Yews.” I froze. The ruins—the chamber. He had built them—he told me so. But he had never said his name, and there was no record of it. No one had uttered it in five hundred years.
