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He looked more amused than offended. “I only came to you because I didn’t think the local shoemaker would appreciate my patronage.”

“You might be right about that.”

“I’m glad you understand.” He started to leave, and Zara grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You should be careful.” She told him about the Paladins’ increased patrols around the village, and about the traveler who’d been killed. Nero looked as disturbed as Zara had felt about all of it.

“None of my people would do that,” he said when she described the dead woman. “None of us would kill someone without cause.”

“I know.”

“That Paladin is hiding something.”

“I know.”

He took a breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed like he was debating saying something else, but then he just shook his head. “Be careful, Zara.”

* * *

Sometimes Nero had specific requests,but Zara also started collecting and trading for anything she thought he and his companions might need—sometimes food, sometimes clothes, sometimes other miscellaneous items like soap or oil or sewing needles.

She began to find little things mysteriously left near her door or in the hollows of trees around her shed. Bundles of wildflowers or herbs, small crafts made with wood and feathers and thread, a jar of something that turned out to be honey. Once, there was a piece of fabric embroidered with brightly colored designs hung on her door handle.

Every time she met with Nero, she would have something to give him, and he would have a kiss to give her in exchange.

Time got away from her one evening while she was exploring the mountains. She realized that the sun would be down long before she arrived back at the village. She picked up her pace.

She had been walking alone in the dark for several minutes when she started to sense that she wasn’t alone. She stopped, listening. The mountains were silent. A lone pine rustled in the wind nearby.

“You should carry a light,” came Nero’s voice from just above her right shoulder.

She managed not to jump. She turned to look at him, smiling a little. His eyes flashed dimly, but the rest of his face was in shadows. “I am starting to think you enjoy sneaking up on people.”

“It’s in my nature. When a night elf sees a lone human in the dark, he can’t help but stalk them.”

She let out a soft laugh. “What nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. Night elves are wicked, dark creatures.”

On its surface, it was not a serious comment, his voice marked by his usual dry sarcasm. But there was something in his tone that made her wonder if he was not entirely joking. Did he think that about his father, and the rest of the elves? Did he think that about himself?

“Do you have anything for me today?” His voice was like butter.

“No.” She truly regretted that she didn’t. Maybe she had something in her pockets she could give him…

“Ah.” She saw him slump a little.

“You just visited yesterday.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. Neither of them wanted to leave, and neither of them had the courage to ask the other to stay.

They’d been playing this game for some time now—a game in which they each pretended they didn’t badly want the other. It felt uncomfortable to not have that barrier between them, keeping each other at arm’s length. It felt safer to have set parameters, to know they were both following the same rules.

“Perhaps there is something you can give me, instead,” Zara said.

“Like?”