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He eyed the clasp. “That’s it?”

“Perhaps I just wanted to talk.”

He blinked at her, watching. She was sure he sensed a difference in her.

“Are you safe? Your family?”

She nodded. “Yes. Ouresteemed”—she put a good deal of sarcasm into that word—“mayor has found it hard to punish the family and friends of his new ally. I bet he’s regretting the lie he told about us helping each other to catch you about now.”

“Huh,” the Rogue laughed. “Now that’s something I hadn’t considered.”

Grace wandered over to him, trying to look nonchalant but finding it hard not to rush over and kiss him. She slid the clasp back into her pocket.

He watched her approach for a moment. “Grace, are you feeling okay? You seem a bit…well, I don’t know what. Different.”

“I’m just fine. Just been thinking a lot.” She smiled. “And I have questions.”

“Oh, Grace. Not tonight, okay? I have planning to do. I’ve got to get the tax money back to the Klossners, but in a way that Mr. Durr doesn’t just come back and collect it again and throw the man into jail for colluding with me.”

Grace kept on walking, her heart pounding, loud and erratic.

“My family usually goes about it with food and other goods rather than coins. Food can be expensive, but you eat it, and then it’s gone. Everyday things, like candles, are always needed but don’t look like they are worth much.”

“Your family.”

“Yeah.” She nodded as she settled mere inches from him. “My dad wears a brown cloak”—she pinched the green cloth of the verdure cloak—“but I suppose one could call him a Rogue, sneaking through fields, dropping bags of food. We have a nook hidden beneath the floorboards of our dining room where we stash almost half of what we get at the market.”

She dropped the cloak and reached for his hand. “And I’ll have to show you the secret hatch on the edge of this farm which he hides in. You’ve passed it several dozen times on the way to andfrom the market. It’s a great time to sneak around town, market day. All the gentry are at the market.”

He was watching her, his breaths becoming shallower the longer she stood so close to him. She breathed in that scent of nutmeg. She would never tire of that smell.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Grace sighed. “I’ve spent a long time sitting around, as you put it. Protesting through inaction. And when the mayor accused my family of sitting by while he treated our friends so terribly, I felt sick. I felt… ashamed of being a Robbins.”

The Rogue shook his head, but then stopped.

Grace smiled at him sadly. “I guess I forgot for a time that sitting wasn’t all we did. But even then, it’s not much. One family can’t sustain it. We can’t afford the expenses of a struggling town on our own, even if taxes hadn’t been raised again.”

“Grace. You, last of all, deserve to feel ashamed. I’ve always admired you, Grace. You care so much about the people. I see it.”

“You see me,” Grace muttered. Her hand drifted toward his mask and he pulled away, holding both it and the face cloth in place.

She sighed. “It wasn’t always like this, you know. Jonathan was like me. But then, you knew that.” She watched his face as best she could with the mask obscuring much of his reactions. “Maybe you know more than I think you do.

“Did Jonathan tell you about the five families’ worth of people? If he did, it was probably embellished. It was down to only three by the time we were old enough to remember. And by the time Jonathan and I were training, it was just us.”

The Rogue nodded. “He said it was ten families.”

Grace laughed. “Figures. We call ourselves Protectors.”

He stared at her. “Jonathan said that word once, then tried to backtrack when he realized he’d let it slip.”

She nodded. “And as much as we do care about the people of Fidara…” Grace breathed in; she was about to share something very secret. But she trusted him. “As much as we care about them, that isn’t what our original directive is.”

The Rogue frowned. “What do you mean?”

Grace drew near again, hoping he’d let her. “Do you remember the gold we found on the handle of Willa’s door?”