It is an unsettling sensation that one might be prepared to experience having gone to sleep soaking wet, frozen stiff and leaning against a fence of stone; and then awakening to find themselves dry, warm, and in a bed.

I sat up slowly, wondering if perhaps I could still be asleep and if so, I was none too hurried to wake up.

I was in a room that, at first glance, was not unlike my own at home. It was small, simple, and with one latched oval window through which buttered sunlight shone and danced on my skin.

On further inspection, and considering common sense, I came to fully comprehend that it was not my room at all. It couldn’t be.

There was no drawer made from sanded pieces of driftwood that my father had made; there wasn’t the chest of clothes that I had always kept near the wall, and there wasn’t the handmade box of my dearest and most personal items that I stashed under the bed.

The bed itself, I could tell, was made for someone much taller than I was. The blankets were woven out of thick, grey cloth that smelled distinctly, and not unpleasantly, like mint and herbs, much like my mother did.

“You are awake.”

I looked up.

Standing in the doorway was a young man. His slanted blue eyes were elegant; framed with unusually long, dark eyelashes. His hair was blacker than night and curled in gentle twists—much like mine liked to do when the air turned humid—and he had a smooth, clean-shaven jaw.

He was beautiful. I knew no other word for it. Not at all like the men and boys I was used to at home, with their thick arms, towering frames, and sturdy stances. This one looked gentle.

He was dressed like most men were that I’d seen here: in dark, grey weave trousers and a lighter grey tunic, open at the collar bones, and brought in at his waist with a simple patterned belt; only he was clean, while most others that I saw were covered in the day’s dirt.

He approached me cautiously, as though concerned that I would cry out if he came too close and after a moment’s nervous hesitation, sat on a stool beside me.

“My name is Taelon, son of Maolmordha Kiman-Éremhón,” he told me, making a bit of a face as though he disliked the mouthful of words. “I found you last night, asleep next to the gateway, and took you back with me. Might I ask you your name?” His accent had a pleasant and unfamiliar lilt to it. Thorus Ragnaghan, if I had to guess.

“J—Ingrith. My name is Ingrith,” I told him quietly. “I’m sorry to have been a bother. I spent the whole evening and much of the night searching for a place to stay and no one would have me.”

“You arrived on the ship, didn’t you?”

“Yes, with seventeen others.”

“Where from?”

I delayed my reply, unsure, and he quickly filled in my absence of an answer with an apology.

“Forgive me, you needn’t answer if you had rather not. I was only curious. Yours was the fourth ship we’ve had in two years. They come from all over the continent. Were you at sea for long?”

“Three months.”

“Three months is a long time to be on a ship.”

“It is,” I agreed. “We were met with many trials. Less than half of us who boarded the ship made it here.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sounded genuine.

“Might I ask whose bed this is?” I patted the covers tentatively, wanting something to do with my hands.

“My older brother’s.”

“Won’t he mind?”

Taelon shook his head. “He left some time ago to serve as a physician on the continent, and he wouldn’t have minded either way.” I sensed there was something more to this because he changed the subject as quickly as he could. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, no,” I lied faintly.

He smiled at me; the kind of smile that whispered he could see past what I said. The kind of smile that made me feel uncomfortably see-through.

“You’ve already done so much for me.” I changed tactics. “I wouldn’t like to trouble you any more than I have.”

“It really is no bother,” he assured me. “I know you mustn’t have been fed well while on your journey. It’s just me here now anyway, and—“

He reached out, and I stiffened when his hand brushed feather-light against light my head. If he noticed, he pretended he did not.

“You had a fever when I brought you in. It’s best that you stay here for now.”

I agreed that I would, and he left, promising to bring me something to eat; then he returned with a cup of broth and a slice of bread.

The first sip was sweeter and more full of flavor than anything I could have imagined until then. The pleasure my tongue took at tasting something that wasn’t hard biscuit was immeasurable, and everything was gone within moments.

Taelon sat by my side, watching me. Not scrutinizing; not peering into the depths of my soul, just watching with rapt interest; and I found I didn’t mind as much as I might have.

When I was finished, he brought me a cup of steaming mint tea, with honey in it, and I nearly fainted from the sheer delight.

At last, I collapsed back against the pillows, full, satisfied, and very warm, both inside and out, and Taelon spoke again.

“Would you like anything else?”

“No, thank you. Although—” I considered what I wanted to ask. “Would you tell me about this island? About Seaggis? I decided to come without any foreknowledge of the land. Is it—Is it much different from Lowerhalf?”

“I shouldn’t think so, at least not very much.” He gazed out of the window thoughtfully. “Of course, it is a very small island, so we all know each other, or we’ve met each other, at least once. There’s no King or Lord, so we govern ourselves mostly. With any important decisions made by the Council IV. Apart from that, I would say Seaggis is much the same as anywhere else.”

“So, there are no ceremonial rituals to conduct? No sacrifices to be made? No codes of conduct I must follow lest I be beheaded?”

He laughed, which was good because I had been half-serious.

“No.”

We fell into a comfortable silence; him gazing out of the window and me, basking in the afterglow of having eaten until I was full.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked me, his eyes leaving whatever they had been intent on watching outside and dancing over my face.

“I don’t know.” I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I could have gone a little longer without having to ponder the question. “Look for a place to stay, I suppose.”

“There won’t be many options,” he warned me. “Not for a while now, until some new houses have been built. They’re being worked on, but it will be some time yet.”

He paused, then added, haltingly, “You could stay here. If you wanted to. My brother’s room shall be vacant for the foreseeable future, and I have no need of it in the meantime.”

“I have nothing to offer as payment,” I said regretfully. “I have no money and nothing of value, and I insist on being able to show my gratitude in some way. Otherwise, I shall not be able to accept any generosity.”

“There are other ways you could pay me if you insist on it.”

I felt a whisper of danger hiss in my ear. Mother had warned me. Friends had told stories. Neighbors had spread rumors. I had heard many tales of women giving away things to the men who wanted them; things that should not have been given away.

He noticed my reluctance, and his eyes widened as his cheeks inflamed.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“I hope you’ll understand,” I interrupted him sharply. “I have only just recently lost the boy I loved to the Radkkan sword, and I am not at all willing to give myself to you in any way. If this is what you want from me, then I shall leave this moment.”

“You misunderstand me,” he blurted. “I hadn’t meant to insinuate—that is, I would never dishonor you in such a way. Forgive me. I—I explained myself badly.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat, ignoring my own sudden flush. “Then, what did you mean to say?”

Still embarrassed, he dropped his gaze to his hands lying closed on his lap. “The people of Seaggis stopped using mainland currency a few years before the invasion began. The last Lord had taxed them extravagantly, from what I’ve since heard. So, Instead, we trade things. If someone wants something from someone else, bread, meat, cloth or the like, they’ll trade it for something of theirs that the other wants. Or owe a favor.”

His eyes darted to me, then back down at his hands, and he continued.

“My brother was a physician. The people who came to him paid him in food and clothes and anything else we needed that they had. I haven’t a decided profession, so if I need something, I’ll trade it for doing odd jobs, like mending things, taking out horses, chopping firewood, and so on. Anything that needs doing really. So, if you insist on paying me, perhaps we could make a deal. Is there anything you are good at?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I admitted reluctantly. “I can clean and cook and read and build fires, though, I shouldn’t think that this would be of much use to you. It appears you can manage it on your own.” I nodded at my surroundings, noting that everything was surprisingly clean and well cared for.

“My brother and I were here alone for some years, so we had to learn to take care of ourselves.”

“You have no parents?”

“We have parents, but they live in Ragnagh. My brother and I came here five years ago, when I was just fourteen.”

“Why?” I asked, then apologized when I saw him pause. “Forgive me, I was uncomfortable with you delving into my past, and yet here I am now, delving into yours.”

“No, it isn’t like that. I do not mind, I was simply trying to think of how I should answer.”

“It’s complicated then?”

He opened his fists, and then closed them, as though hoping to find a suitable answer written on his palms and was disappointed that there wasn’t one.

“Yes, while at the same time, very simple.” He let his eyes wander up to the ceiling. “My father is a tradesman. In cloth. We never saw him as often as we might have liked to, and while he wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t much like a father either; at least, he wasn’t how we wanted him to be. My mother is a Belnacath and was always very serious about the religion and everything that came along with it. She wanted to include us in this. I know she loved us very much, but . . . I do not know. I cannot remember what happened, only that one evening, my brother packed some of our things, and told me we were leaving, and we came here.”

He looked at me again.

“In any case, anything you can do will be of great help. It is a burden, taking care of everything here as well as everything for everyone else. And—” His expression was one of all seriousness and honesty as he chose his next words. “I give you my word not to use you or touch you, or . . . anything else you wouldn’t like. I swear it.”

He didn’t need to swear it. I believed him completely, the moment he said so.

“Alright then.” I took a preparatory breath and folded my hands neatly in front of me.

“If you would allow me to stay here with you, then I offer you any talent I have, and any more I procure, to be at your disposal from now until I have a place of my own. Will you accept me?”

He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “I suppose I will have to consider it for a time.”

“Oh.” I chewed on my lip. “I—Yes. Of course.”

He chuckled nervously. “You took me seriously. I did not mean it. Of course, you may stay here as long as you wish.”

He held out a hand. It was a beautiful hand, with long, elegant fingers and smooth, pale skin. I took it and was pleased to find that it was warm and gentle.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ingrith,” he said.

In a proper bed, with real food, real sunlight, and real company, I soon felt quite as well as I ever had, and very ready to start anew. Already the shadow of my time on the ship was slipping away from my heart; Seaggis’s warmth chasing it away. It was a beautiful feeling, and I felt as though here, on the doorstep of my new beginning, I might forget everything from before.

I refused to forget it all, of course. I kept one sharp fragment of shadow, frozen and ill inside my breast where no sunlight could touch it because I refused to forget. I refused to let go. I refused to cast James, and everything he had been, and still was to me, away forever.

This, and the memories of home and family before the invasion, was all that was left of Judeth.

I buried her away, far away, deep beneath the hard, dark soil of my being, and I didn’t plan on digging her back up again.

It was so strange to me to find myself in a place where food was as bountiful as it was sought after. How long had it been since I had seen beef? Flour? Cheese? Beets?

I admired the rich, burgundy juice the vegetable left behind on my hands and along the blade of the knife, thinking dreamily of what they would taste like when they had been served along with the chicken that lay, pale and rippled and full of possibility; ready to be roasted over the fire.

“Hello, my love,” I cooed, fixing everything up nicely with a sprinkle of herbs. “Now be sure to cook nice, brown, and delicious. You must.”

Then I turned to the carrots laying on the table beside me and chopped them up with swift, easy strokes.

“And you, my dears, must be sure to cook sweet and tender. You shall, won’t you? Of course, after all, you have already been taken up from the ground and stored through the cold months. What else are you good for if not to be eaten? Nothing at all, I should think. And if you are to be eaten, it is my philosophy that you should taste as wonderful as you possibly can.”

“Do you talk to vegetables often? Or is it only that my company bores you and carrots make for better conversation?”

I started as a voice punctured the quiet of the kitchen, and the knife slipped in my hands and sliced cleanly through one of my fingers.

I dropped the blade and bit my tongue to stem the flow of profanities that threatened to leech from between my teeth.

“Oh, I am sorry.” Taelon hurried to my side. “I hadn’t meant to startle you. Are you alright?”

“I haven’t any idea.” I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. “Seven Hells, that hurts.”

“May I see?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Why not?”

“Because my finger might have been cut off and . . . well I’m not sure I could face the sight just yet. I must have a moment to gather myself.”

Taelon took my wounded hand in his own.

“We will have to find it, and then have it sewn back on. Might you have an idea of where the other half went?”

“The other half?” I shrieked and jerked my hand out of his grasp to view the horrifying image for myself, only to see that, though there was quite a lot of blood, all my fingers were whole and exactly in place.

I stared at my hand, a strange sensation unsettling me. Unnerving and familiar. This had happened before. In another life, another town, another kitchen, with another boy.

I bit on my tongue, feeling very uncomfortably, as though I wanted to cry, and then to do anything but.

Taelon saw the change in my expression and apologized again, looking very guilty. “I am sorry, Ingrith, I couldn’t help it.”

He reached out a hand, then took it back, then reached it out again and led me over to the bucket of water beneath the table, into which he dipped a cloth and tenderly began to clean the blood away from my skin.

“Is it terribly painful?”

It wasn’t, not now. It just pulsed and stung and throbbed. I shook my head.

“No. It doesn’t hurt all that much now.”

“Then, did I hurt you when I teased you? I honestly didn’t even think when I did. I am not used to—I do not know how to—You see I have never—” His explanation slowly petered out and he gave up with a twitch of his head, and a pained grimace.

“It wasn’t you,” I said. “It’s only that this has happened to me before, and it made me feel strange. That is all.”

“Is this about the boy you loved?” he asked.

“Yes.” I grinned at the memory. “I was chopping potatoes in his family’s house. He was useless when it came to anything culinary. I got frustrated at something he said, and I sliced my finger and thought I must have taken it clean off.”

Why was I telling him this?

My hand was white and clean again, though, with some fresh blood bubbling up around the cut running across the length of my thumb. Taelon sat me down near the hearth, then fetched a small birch-bark box and a few scraps of clean rag from a cupboard by the window seat.

“What then?” He sprinkled a pinch of whatever was in the box on my injury, then bound it up in the bandages and placed my hand on my shoulder, holding it there with a firm pressure.

“He told me it hadn’t been cut off, I fixed it up and continued making dinner. What was that?” I pointed to the little box, still in his hand.

“A powder made from Yarrow root, to stop the bleeding.”

His eyes were thoughtfully narrowed, and he let go of my hand, saying, “Was he very wise?”

“No! Not at all!” I burst out laughing at the thought. My mouth smiled so widely it hurt. “But he was . . . always so very brave. Everyone admired him. He was tall and strong and fearless. And talented at everything. Almost everything. But . . . more than that he was—he was my first real love.” My smile shrank smaller and smaller as I thought about him. For all his blessing, and his faults, James was the first person I had ever imagined spending my life with. Above everything else, he was that one person stories told me I would have a happy ending with. Would I ever find that again? Did I want to find that again?

I cradled my injured hand in my other and tapped my heel against the stone fire surround; for no real reason except needing something to do.

“If you do not mind my asking,” Taelon reached for the fire poker and prodded the coals in the hearth, “what happened to him?”

I thought I might get upset, angry, or start crying, but I didn’t. I was perfectly alright with telling him what happened. The sadness and resentment that came along with the memory were familiar now, and the shadow was grey, not black.

“He was involved in something dangerous. A rebellion.” I watched Taelon’s face to see if there was any sign of recognition in his features, but if there was, it was well hidden.

“He recieved news that the Radkkans had arrested his father and flew into a rage. He and several other men from our village assaulted the Radkkan who had done it and they were arrested, then killed. Their bodies lay at the bottom of the ocean.”

“That is—I am so sorry for you,” he said, soft and sympathetic. “Is that why you came here?”

“My mother told me I wouldn’t be safe where we were. She sent me away that same night with another girl, on a boat. That boat took us to Kora. The girl stayed, and I came here.”

“Why here?”

I wondered at his curiosity but answered truthfully.

“Seaggis is where he decided he would take us when we planned to run away. He said it would be the safest place.”

And now I was here, without him. And what would I do? Live a new life? Or find a way to recruit the island into the rebellion as James had so fervently wished to?

I couldn’t imagine it for myself. I couldn’t imagine rallying peaceful people into a fight I had no wish to be part of. Into a world I knew so little of. Making the journey back, through the storms and the illness and the losses.

I’m sorry James. I can’t. I won’t. What I wanted was peace. Warmth. Safety. A home. If my journey had taught me anything, it was that. I was far away from Saje. I was in a beautiful place. Maybe, just maybe I could make a life for myself here until the time came when I could find my parents again.

James had wanted to ride a dragon. To be a hero, and I’d convinced myself I’d wanted the same. But did I really?

“You do not say his name,” Taelon observed.

“I don’t wish to.”

“Then don’t, I had not meant to press you.” He brushed his fingertips softly over my hand. “You’ve seen and suffered much. I would hope that you might find a friend in me, when you are ready to.”

“A friend.” I smiled again, a gentle one as my heart warmed. “A friend would be very welcome to me. Thank you.”

The days were growing longer; the sun was growing brighter and warmer. I stayed at home mostly. I would tidy, I would cook, or sit out in the sun near the large tree growing just near the cliff edge with a view of the ocean.

Home. At first, it didn’t feel right to refer to a place that wasn’t mine as such, but it got easier as time went on. Home was not just the place where you lived. It was the place where you felt safe, happy, and comfortable.

An entire week went by, and life had become a peaceful succession of busy nothings. A perfect balance of work and leisure.

Until one day, sitting by the window in my new room, I became aware that I was growing bored. Everything was clean, there was no need to cook dinner so early in the afternoon, and just sitting with nothing in my hands had grown unbearable.

I was restless.

A whole week come and gone, and I hadn’t once been to the village since the first evening I arrived.

I decided that I was feeling courageous enough to go on an adventure. Therefore, I needed an excuse, or at least I felt I did. So I made up a bottle of cool tea and picked my way down the steep path and into the village to find Taelon.

He had mentioned the previous evening that he would be gone the entire day helping someone named Grieda D’onsé in return for six of her chickens when they were ripe for the killing.

I didn’t know who Grieda was, but I did know that I had visited many residences upon my arrival, and only three of them had a visible bounty of animals. Out of those three, only one was owned by a woman.

It was an easy thing to find my way to the butchery. Though in the daylight, everything was considerably different to look at, the sound of busy animals could not be mistaken for anything else.

There were two cows feeding in a stall, munching on hay, and the few delicate sprigs of green grass that had popped up here and there in the damp ground.

I paid no mind to the people I passed by on my way and walked determinedly with purpose in my steps because if I had a purpose, I wouldn’t feel quite so awkward.

When I reached the place, I saw that there were slabs of meat sitting on platters underneath the shade of a canopy outside the window. The skinned carcass of what might have once been a hog was hung by one hoof and a bit of string, and sausages were dangled; looped, and coiled from the top of the windowsill.

The vulture woman was standing near the open window, arranging and rearranging a sheep’s head on a plate with some sprigs of greenery.

Now that her hair was out of its cap, I saw that there was quite a lot of it; a mane of curly, brown and grey peppered hair that she kept having to swipe off her cheek as it played around, misbehaving.

She saw me and must have recognized me as well, I thought, because she didn’t ask who I was. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I still haven’t got any room for you.”

“That’s fine, I have a place to stay.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.” She wiped her hands on her apron, leaving behind two smudged, bloody handprints. “What can I do for you?” she asked, and her tone wasn’t unfriendly.

“Are you Grieda?”

“I am.” She didn’t seem to question that I knew her name. “Is there something you need?”

“I’m looking for Taelon. Is he here?”

Now she looked surprised. Her eyes narrowed, and they traveled from my head down, then up again as though searching for something she hadn’t seen the first time we met.

“He is,” she said slowly. “What business do you have with him?”

It was technically within my right to say that it didn’t concern her, but I was in the mood to make a good impression, so I said, “I have something to give him.”

“Follow me.” She motioned to the door, which I opened, and entered the house, feeling uncomfortable in the sudden darkness inside. There were no candles, no lamps. Very little sunlight found its way past directly where it streamed in through the window.

Everything smelled like meat and herbs, and the air was stiflingly close.

A clamor of high voices broke the dim quiet and three young girls jumped up from the hearth, abandoning their grass dolls and running to us, snatching at Grieda’s and my sleeves excitedly. I grinned at the sunshine faces beaming at me as they all spoke at the same time, trying to be the first to learn who this stranger was in their aunt’s home.

“Roisin, Mairead, Orlaith! Enough,” Grieda said sternly and helped me clear the throng.

“He’s out in the back.” She stopped at a door and crossed her arms, waiting for me to continue on.

I did so and found myself in a sheltered yard. A roof kept any rain and sun away, and the ground was dirt and grass, bespeckled with the odd chicken feather and puddle of blood.

Taelon stood behind a long table made up of some hastily cut boards nailed to a tall tree stump.

He was buried elbow deep in the corpse of a sheep, blood soaking several inches of his sleeves, doing what I could only assume was cutting out the poor creature’s insides. He worked with a steady minded devotion, though with his head turned slightly to the side, trying to avoid the scent of fresh, raw meat that hung rank in the air, and a bit of a curl to his lip speaking in volumes that whatever he was seeing wasn’t pleasant.

I might have just stood there watching, but then he looked up and saw me. The surprise was as evident as the blood on his clothes, and he just stared at me for a moment, clearly unsure of what he was seeing.

“Hello,” I offered when the silence grew uncomfortable.

“Ingrith.” He quickly removed his hands from the body and wiped them down on the front of his trousers, then tried to wipe away the blood left behind, charmingly flustered. “What are you doing here? Are you alright?”

“I came to find you.”

I held out the bottle and shook it convincingly. “You told me you would be gone all day, so I made you some tea. I didn’t know what you would be doing, but I thought it must be hard work so . . .”

He moved around the table and took the offering with a thank you. Then we sat down, as far away from the carcass as we could.

“Would you like me to leave?” I asked after a while when it seemed that he wasn’t about to start a conversation.

“What gives you such an impression?”

“You don’t look all that glad to see me.”

“I was surprised.” He finally stopped contemplating the bottle and took a sip, lips pulling thin in a tight smile. “I am not used to being visited while working. Or, at all.”

“It’s boring, all by myself,” I explained.

“And I am to be your relief?”

“I had hoped to be yours too.”

“You were,” he said, and his smile eased. He couldn't seem to bring himself to meet my eyes, wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle, then unwrapping them and repeating the action. “I was hoping for a break. I do not think Grieda would have released me without an excuse.”

“Who is she, exactly?” I asked.

He took another sip of tea.

“She is many things.”

“Name some.”

“A woman who isn’t scared of blood for one. Her husband owned the shop, and she took the reins when he died. Why do you wish to know?”

“She seemed concerned when I said I wanted to see you.”

He nodded with understanding.

“Grieda was a great comfort to my brother and I when we came here; a mother figure, I suppose. She took us in for the first few months until we found a place of our own, and even then, she looked after us. She is fierce, and frightening sometimes, but she is very caring, and my oldest friend here. I should have told her that I took you in.”

“Does she think I’m . . . trying for you?”

“She will not be the only one.”

“That doesn’t seem all that fair,” I complained, even though I knew the workings of gossip as much as anyone. It was rarely fair.

“It is how it is. An unmarried man and a woman living together is either a match or something else.”

“What sort of something else?” I demanded.

“ I am sure you can imagine.” He stared pointedly at the ground.

“Oh, dear.”

“Do not worry,” he hurried on when he saw my expression. “They will forget in a few months. You needn’t worry about what they think.”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I do care great deal of what people think of me here.”

“Do not worry,” he said again. “It will turn out alright. They are all good people. Most of them.”

After a few minutes of quiet peace between us, during which Taelon finished off the tea, a question popped suddenly into my head, and I went ahead and indulged my curiosity before I could think better of it.

“You have blue eyes,” I said. “And black hair. I have no wish to be rude, but I find I must ask, are you from Radkka?”

I didn’t want him to say yes. I didn’t want to have to acknowledge that the kind person sitting beside me, who I was beginning to consider a friend, was connected to such a place, but I had asked, and I couldn’t take it back.

“I am not. But I do have Radkkan in my blood, on my mothers’ side. Her mother was from Radkka. But that is not so unusual, is it?”

“It isn’t?” My heart sank.

He shook his head. “There isn’t such a thing as a pure race anymore, Ingrith. Radkkans have married Cthorians, Cthorians have married citizens of T’cor, and so on. You might have an ancestor from Radkka.”

I shivered in disgust at the thought, curling my toes in my boots and rubbing my palms against my dress. “Oh, I hope not. What an abhorrent thought.”

“Not everyone in Radkka is cruel and wicked.”

“Well, most of them are,” I insisted stubbornly. “And I would not like to be told any different, if you please.”

“As you like.” He let it go and stood up, offering a hand to help me do the same.

We walked back together in a slightly frosted silence. I felt strongly that there was something he wanted to say, or ask, but was waiting for me to give him a reason to do so. I did not, however curious I was.

Grieda was waiting for us, standing firm-footed and cross-looking on the earth near the sheep carcass, holding up the two corners of her apron. Inside was a cluster of fury chicks uttering sweet peeps and chirps.

She didn’t protest when I reached in and smoothed my fingers over one of the downy heads but scrutinized me with a sharp gaze that said she was watching me.

“Are these the ones?” Taelon asked her, and I could only guess that he was referring to the chicks.

“They’ll grow big soon. Six of them will be yours.” Then she flung out her chin at me, while her eyes fixed on him.

“Some of them were saying something was going on with you. I heard the rumors, mind, and I’ll hope you’ll give me credit for not believing them at first. How much is true?

“Only that she is staying with me.”

I wished that they wouldn’t discuss me, or anything to do with me, while I was standing right there. I focused my gaze down at the chick underneath my hand and pretended that I couldn’t hear what was being said.

“Should I believe you?”

“I do not see why you wouldn't. I am not that sort.”

“No. But you’re being very generous.”

“I do not mind.”

“Are you staying in separate rooms?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your name, girl?”

I lifted my head as the conversation swerved in my direction.

“Ingrith.” It came easily to my lips this time.

Grieda patted me on the head, which was an unexpected and not unwelcome gesture.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” she warned me. “Seaggis is a peaceful place. It’s been peaceful, it is peaceful, and we hope to keep it that way.”

I wanted to ask her what she thought one girl could do to disrupt the peace of an entire town, but instead told her politely that I had no intention of causing any trouble whatsoever, and that peace sounded fine to me too. Then I bade both she and Taelon goodbye, and made my way back home, feeling less restless than when I set off, but quite a bit more bothered.