"Captain! Such a pleasure to have you back with us again."

Hannah stood back, watching as Macks shook hands with the old innkeeper. It was well into night that same day, and they had just come into Hunsdown, a quaint little town that seemed to serve as a crossroads for travelers. Even at this hour, there were still carriages coming and going, great horses heaving puffs of wintry air.

"It's a pleasure to remember your hospitality," Macks said, as he signed his name in the book. "I'm going to need two rooms this time."

"Oh?" The innkeeper leaned aside, looking round his frame and right at Hannah. She wasn't sure why but his gaze made her feel wary and exposed. "And who's this pretty bird with you?"

Liar, Hannah thought, wrinkling her nose.

"This is Hannah," he answered vaguely. "Keys, please, Sir."

"Of course," the man answered, pulling a drawer and producing a pair for them. "Only the second floor, since it's not a busy time. Six and seven. You will let us know if there's anything else we can do. For you or Miss Hannah."

"Surely. Come on, Hannah." He headed up the stairs, moving briskly despite the weight of their bags.

Mutely, she followed, aware of the innkeeper eyeing her. He somehow reminded her of Jono, not because they looked alike, but because of how sharp and watchful he seemed from behind the counter.

She looked ahead, focusing on Macks' back as they went up. Creston Inn, which was just about the biggest building in Hunsdown, was like a homely elderly woman. The redwood doors were old and wrinkled, the pastel walls patterned with teapots and tiny flowers.

Macks opened her door for her, and she walked in to find the room plain and clean, with little furniture. She liked it just that way, in fact. She crossed the room slowly, peering out the window as Macks set down her bag. "Well. What do you think?" he asked, setting alight two candles."It's not so bad, is it?"

"Hardly," she replied, shaking her head. "And Hunsdown seems interesting."

"It's a nice little place," he agreed. "Not as much to do here as in Dalen, though. They have a total of four taverns. Can you believe it? Four?"

"How terrible," she said, and he stared at her.

"You're teasing me."

"A little."

"I didn't think you even knew how."

She rolled her eyes, and that made him laugh. "Alright, alright, I shan't bother you anymore."

"You're leaving?" she blurted, as he turned away.

"We have to be up early tomorrow," he reminded her. "Why? Did you want me to stay?"

"No, I … " She blinked, feeling silly. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

"Goodnight then. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right," she murmured. She watched as the door shut, then tiredly rubbed both her eyes. And yet, even though she was drained, she also felt restless after sitting in that carriage all day. She wasn't used to sitting still for such a long time, and was amazed at how anyone could stand it. Macks, she supposed, was more used to it from all the visits to his family.

She hung by the window for a while, watching the stream of night traffic, until finally, she couldn't stand her drooping lids any longer. She snuffed out one candle, leaving the other burning, and climbed into the unfamiliar bed.

As it turned out, she slept quite well for her first night away from either Dalen or Chell, and came down for breakfast even before Macks. "He's not here yet?" she asked the innkeeper, who shook his head.

"Why don't you have a seat? I'm sure you must be hungry."

She nodded, sitting down in an empty hall. There was a modest, but tempting spread of bread, soup and berry juice. She started eating, but noticed that the innkeeper kept stealing glances at her even as he pretended to dry cups.

"So, Miss Hannah," the innkeeper finally addressed her. "Are you a relative of the Captain's?"

"Me? No. Not at all."

"Do you hail from Dalen as well?"

"Yes. Well, not really. I came from a village."

"Did you now?" He paused, shifting and facing her more directly. "Have you known the Captain long?"

"I've known him for two years now."

"Two years?"

She nodded, idly moving her spoon around in her bowl. She knew she was being questioned for a reason here, and she didn't like it. "We're family friends," she blurted, deciding in her head that it was sort of true. He was Rio's friend, and Rio was family.

"I see."

Hannah stared at her food for a while, then lifted her head, conjuring a question of her own. "Macks stays here quite often, doesn't he?"

"I don't know if I'd say it was that often. About two or three times a year."

"Has he ever brought anyone else before?"

He smiled, as if amused by her question."Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Hannah frowned, and was about to respond when she heard the sound of boots behind her. She turned, and was surprised when Macks laid a hand on her shoulder. "Ask me what?" he put to her, his eyes bright and keen.

"Nothing," Hannah murmured, shaking her head.

Macks pulled back his hand, slipping it slowly into his pocket. He looped one leg over the bench, sitting down next to her. He was smiling and looked to be a in a good mood, but didn't say anything to her as he started reaching for food.

As Hannah watched, other guests began to come down, and he started striking up conversations with them, in particular, a young, pleasantly-dressed couple who looked like city folk.

Hannah watched as they chatted, feeling annoyed without knowing why. She heard a patter at the window, and saw that drops marked the glass. The gray sky from yesterday was finally opening. Unfortunate, she thought. She had hoped to take a short walk around Hunsdown before continuing on their journey. Then again, Macks would have probably found it a bore. Four taverns, after all.

"Damn," Macks cursed. "How are we going to find a carriage now?"

"Where are you headed to, Sir?" the husband of the couple asked him. "Dyon, by any chance?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," he said, his face becoming hopeful.

"Well, we have space for two. Why don't you and your wife join us?"

Hannah gaped, but Macks didn't seem to even notice the mistake. He accepted the invitation graciously, then they went upstairs to pack their things.

"Why did you let them think I was your wife?" she asked as they climbed the stairs.

Macks glanced back at her, doing a shrug. "It seemed an understandable mistake."

"Which you didn't correct."

"Neither did you."

"What?" She frowned.

"Well, you had as much chance to say something."

"But he was talking to you."

"So?"

She started to go on, but they could hear their new friends calling to them from downstairs. Macks took in a breath, nodding at her. "Come on, go and get your bags. We don't want to keep them waiting."

"Of course," she mumbled, walking ahead into Room Seven to gather her things. Before long, they had settled everything and joined up with the couple – Eric and Darla, as they introduced themselves. The four took a wary glance at the rain, then, huddling together, rushed out to their carriage.

Hannah piled in next to Macks, finding the interior larger but plainer than the previous carriage they'd been in. She impatiently wiped wet beads off her neck, while Darla dabbed daintily at herself with a handkerchief.

"Drive on!" Eric ordered, having to shout through the rain. The carriage started up slowly, as if the driver – or the horses – were unnerved by the downpour. Hannah gazed moodily at the misty gray outside their window, and Eric smiled at her.

"Cheer up. The dreary weather won't last. It'll be sunshine again before you know it."

"Oh, I'm sure she's just tired," Macks said, suddenly looping his arm around her shoulders. He squeezed tightly, pulling her to him. "Aren't you, dear?"

She blinked at him, cheeks burning. She couldn't believe it. He was acting like they were a couple – and trying to get her to play along.

How dare he.

She knew she should own up about them not being married, but to do so only now would be embarrassing. They would wonder why neither she nor Macks had said anything earlier, and why the two of them were traveling together at all. They would probably assume that she and Macks were eloping, like Alyssa and Stefan had done once. And that wasn't much better.

"Here," Macks said, seeming to mistake her silence for consent. He tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, and she just lay like that. "There now, you just rest."

"How sweet," Darla commented enviously. "How long have the two of you been married?"

"Feels like forever, honestly," Macks said with a straight face. He paused, looking down at her. "I knew, as soon as I met her, that I had to make her my wife."

Hannah turned sharply to look at him. He'd sounded so convincing, she might almost have believed him. She had to remind herself that this was Macks talking, that he was just weaving stories to amuse himself.

"That's so romantic," Darla gushed, while Eric rolled his eyes. "You must have hit it off immediately."

"Oh, yes. We got along marvelously," he answered, trying not to laugh.

Hannah couldn't help clearing her throat. "I think someone's memory is a little bit muddled."

"Well, alright, you were a little unsure at first. But I knew you'd come around."

"Hah. You were so sure of yourself?"

"I was right, wasn't I? Otherwise, would we be here now, together?"

Hannah stared at him, surprised that she didn't know what to say.

Outside, there was a distant burst of thunder, and she couldn't help flinching against Macks. He smiled, then leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Don't worry. We'll be reaching Dyon soon."

She nodded silently, keeping her gaze out the window.

A moment later, she felt Macks ease his arm away. He sat back, eyeing her. "I hope you're not beginning to feel homesick."

"Me? No."

"What about your mother? Do you miss her very much now that she's in Chell?"

She thought for a moment. "Not as much as I thought I would, now that I've learned to live on my own. But I will of course go and see her from time to time, as much as Christopher will let me."

"Perhaps I could come with you."

"Come with me?"

"To Chell."

"Um, what for?"

"Well, I hear so much about it from you and Rio, but I've never actually seen it."

"It's just a dull little village."

"I've never really been to a village. And I would like to see your home, where you were born and grew up."

"You would?"

"Of course. Anyway, you're going to be seeing my house."

She jerked straight in her seat. "What?"

"My family is in Dyon, after all."

"But I'm – I'm not prepared," she moaned, clutching her hair with one hand and her faded dress with another.

"Nonsense. You're fine as you are."

"Do they even know I'm coming?"

"Actually, no, since you didn't decide to come until the last minute … "

"Oh, no ... "

"But I am sure they will be very welcoming. And we'll have no problems putting you up."

"Putting me up?" she echoed. "As in … staying there?"

"Well, of course. What did you think?"

"That we would be staying with Alyssa and Stephen."

"My dear Hannah, they do not have the space for us. And besides, my mother wouldn't be too happy with that arrangement even if they did."

She blinked, feeling silly. "Oh."

"Now, look," he tried to be assuring, grasping her hand. "There is absolutely nothing for you to be worried about. We came to have a good trip and enjoy ourselves – to see Dyon, and make merry with our friends, and that is exactly what we will do. Yes?"

"I suppose. It's just that I know nothing about your family and I want them to … "

Approve of me? She frowned at her own thought. After all, why should she care for their opinion of her? And yet, still she was unsettled.

"What?" Macks prompted, seeming truly curious.

"Nothing," she answered quietly, averting her gaze. There was nothing to be done about it now. She hoped that things would turn out well with the Droys, but based on the little that Macks had told her, somehow they did not seem like the sort of people who would give much thought to her.

She didn't say anything else as they journeyed on, lounging and watching as the misty storm slowly lifted. By the time it was clear, the sun was gone, leaving a glowing moon in its stead.

Hannah caught sight of Dyon from afar – a stretching horizon of roofs and towers, indistinct at first, but slowly taking shape as they drew near. She couldn't believe how far it stretched; it had to be a hundred times the size of Dalen if not more. And running through the city was a great, silvery river - the Dyonias River, as Macks explained, one of the city's loveliest sights.

They rolled up to the city gates along with a few other carts and wanderers, and were waved in by the guards. The driver led them through the streets with confidence, while Hannah mused that Dyon looked a bit like Dalen, but far finer and grander. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like to live in such a city.

After a while, the driver came to a stop in a little square, and she realized they were meant to climb out. She stood there in the cold, shivering next to Darla as the men reclaimed their bags.

"And so we part ways, my friend," Eric said, nodding at Macks and giving him a handshake. "All the best to both of you."

"And you," he said courteously.

Hannah bowed her head to the couple, then joined Macks as he started walking. "Is it far, your home?"

"Not at all," he promised. "Just up this street and after one turn." He took her hand, holding it firmly as they walked. Hannah realized she was becoming more and more used to his little gestures, and made no objection. After a little while, Macks slowed, and she raised her eyes to study the house in front of them.

It was a very angular, very old kind of home, and looked like it probably had twenty or thirty rooms inside its ghostly stone walls. She ran her eyes over the sharp roofs and black window-frames, a little wary as Macks pulled her inside the grounds.

"There's people inside," she stated, getting a look in the windows.

"My mother must have guests," he said, knocking on the door.

Very promptly, a portly woman in black and white answered the door, no smiles as she looked upon them. "Master Mackenzie," she said, using his full name. "And … ?"

"Elizabeth, this is Hannah Iver, a friend of mine from Dalen."

Elizabeth let them through, and as they stepped inside, everything suddenly seemed too bright. The walls were a showy white-and-gold, over-decorated with mirrors, paintings, and polished candle-lamps. Hannah took it all in with fascination as Macks handed off the bags to another servant. She could hear voices and music from a nearby room, which she'd seen Elizabeth enter. She heard her announce both their names, and then a woman's voice answered, "Show them in."

"Alright," Macks said, gently pressing her back. "Let's show ourselves, shall we?"

The truth was, she didn't want to. She had only been in this house a few moments and already felt so out of place. And she knew it was only about to get worse.

Yet, there was nothing she could do, her feet moving along numbly as Macks nudged her.

As they entered the doorway, Hannah was even more overwhelmed once she saw the small crowd gathered inside. It was a group of maybe ten or so men and women - older, elegant, lounging and enjoying wine and the notes of the pianoforte. Right away though, she narrowed her attention to two people – a fair-haired woman standing in the center of the room who had to be Mrs. Droy, and the woman at the pianoforte, playing that lovely music. It was someone she already knew – her old 'friend', Suzanne.

At the sight of them, the music stopped, and everyone turned to look. There was a brief pause, then suddenly a noisy blur of people standing and greeting, 'Macks! How are you?' and 'So good to see you again'.

Macks broke away from Hannah, nodding at everyone and sharing a warm hug with his mother. But it wasn't long before the attention turned to her – this plain, unfamiliar girl standing awkwardly there, so out of place in this picture. She must look like she better belonged among the servants.

"Mother, everyone," Macks started. "This is Hannah."

Mrs. Droy and Suzanne came forward, while the rest of the group settled down, losing interest now that she was the subject.

"Hannah Iver, is that right?" Mrs. Droy asked, squinting a little. She was a short, delicate-looking woman, but Hannah was intimidated by her all the same.

"That's right."

"Hannah's a friend of Alyssa's," Suzanne explained helpfully, nodding at her. "We met her in Dalen."

"Oh, I see. I had no idea you were coming with Macks though."

"It was a last-minute decision. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's nothing to worry about," Mrs. Droy told her. "Any friend of my son is welcome here always. And we have plenty of rooms. I think the one in the west corner should do quite nicely for you."

"The west corner?" Macks repeated. "What about the one next to mine?"

"Oh, well, actually, Suzanne's in that room right now, son."

Both Macks and Hannah looked over, watching as Suzanne shrugged. "Your mother informed me of your coming, and invited me to stay. I wanted to be here when you arrived."

"Oh," Macks went, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I meant to surprise you."

"I confess you succeeded."

"It'll be easier for us to visit Stefan and Alyssa," she rationalized. She paused, clearing her throat. "All three of us now."

"Well, anyway," Mrs. Droy interrupted them. "You two sit down, take a rest. I'll have the kitchen prepare something for you."

"Actually, I'm really tired," Hannah spoke up. "If it's alright, I'd like to be excused."

"Well, I don't think they're ready with the room yet."

"That's alright," Macks said. "I'll show her around the house. Come on, Hannah." In front of all of them, he took her hand again, whisking her away, which she was very glad for.

"So there you have it," he said, as he led her up a set of pearl-white stairs. "That was Mother Droy."

"What about your father?"

"Knowing him, he's probably snoring away in bed. Wine brings the sleep on him."

"Is it just you and your parents here? I mean, no other family?"

"Yes. My sister moved away when she married. Not very far though."

"She just had her son."

He nodded, showing her a smile. "That's right. You remembered."

They reached the top of the stairs, standing in the middle of connecting hallways, the walls papered in intricate green patterns. All in all, the Droy home was fine and very well-kept, but somehow did not feel inviting to Hannah. It reminded her very much of his mother, who, despite all her polite words, seemed to lack any real warmth.

A pair of servant girls clopped up noisily behind them, bowing their heads at Macks before running down to a far end of the hall.

"That's where you'll be," Macks told her. He pulled her hand along, to a door close by the stairs. "And this is my room. Would you like to see?"

She nodded silently, a little surprised that he wasn't shy to let her inside.