She might have been many things, but stupid was not one of them.  The pulse from the bloodstone, which she kept beneath her shift, against her heart, was all she needed to realize what the lich was doing.  Her expression to Herrick's last warning was as cold as ice, ice that warmed considerably once Balthazar spoke to her, a smile on her lips.  Aurora looked over her shoulder; the guard outside the tent had not even stirred.  "It wasn't all a fancy of my desperate imagination.  You ARE Balthazar the Black, aren't you?"