The floor beneath her chair seemed to tremble with them.

Her granddaughter froze mid-giggle, clutching the yarn. “Gran—”

“Hide, Dawn.” Mariah said, rising. “Hurry. No sound.”

The girl hesitated, then obeyed, slipping toward the other room.

Mariah’s fingers went to the pouch at her waist, loosening the flap just enough to touch the smooth, cold stone inside.

A charm for confusion.

Another for silence.

If the guards came close, she would not meet them ...