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“An accessory. It looks good on me.”

“I would not voice that with pride.”

“Why not? It’s the reason I got to spar with the First Knight. As far as I’m concerned, that’s prestige on a marshmallow stick.”

“You’re a bragger.”

He didn’t sound impressed. But at least my excuses had been true.

Well, true-ish. Ihadbeen passing through, seeing as I didn’t plan on hanging around here. Also, the axedidlook good on me.

I balled up his suspicions and pitched them right back at him. “And you’re supposed to be the First Knight. Shouldn’t a protector of the people know why a girl would be carrying around a hatchet at night? That maybe it’s to protect herself from potential fiends?”

“I’m not omniscient.” He glowered, as though I’d forced him to say that. “None of this explains your intrusion here.”

“Like I said, my feathered friend got insulted by my hat. Before that, I was minding my own business, enjoying a midnight drive.”

“Instead of retiring like everyone else.”

“You need to visit taverns more often if you think every single person in the lower town is in bed by now. Besides, rest is boring. And I bore easily. Is that illegal?”

He squinted at me. “You’re an incomprehensible creature.”

I batted my lashes, because, why not? This man was as delectable as melted butter. Plus, the shallower and more ignorant I played this, the better.

“Thank you, but I’m no creature. Though if you’re wondering about my woodskin, don’t forget, it’s almost Hallo Fest. I might be alone, but maybe I’ve decided to celebrate anyway by dressing as a lonely marionette. Interested in keeping me company?”

“Maybe that’s a falsehood.”

“Maybe you’re not really the First Knight. Maybe you’re a goat herder in a soldier’s costume.”

With reluctance, he lowered his sword.

Punk calmed down, her wings sagging. She circled and settled onto a tree limb, rapping her beak against the bark to release tension.

The knight—Aire—slipped his blade into the sheath, emitting a gentle scrape of sound. A glint caught my eye. I followed the spark of light, my gaze landing on the metallic wedding band encircling his finger.

He didn’t look too young to be married, but he did look young to be the First Knight, younger still to talk like the wind.

He rose and offered his hand. I took it, allowing him pull me to my feet. When my timber fingers brushed his, he flinched and let go, causing parts of me to snap into place. My touch had basically repelled him.

By contrast, Aire swiped my hatchet and studied it with open appreciation.

The sight gave me a second wind. His lips parted, but I cut him off.

“Self-defense,” I clarified. “It’s late, and I’m a cute target.”

Though I figured he’d finally drawn that conclusion. The self-defense part, not the bit about my cuteness.

His blue gaze glinted, torn between spooked and annoyed. No matter what he thought of me, I’d done nothing to earn a set of shackles. Not yet, anyway.

“You’ve selected quite a paranoid means of protection.” Shaking his head, he handed me the hatchet. “I would entreat you to put that away and stay off these grounds.”

I’d attach it to my calf later, when he wasn’t around to see it. “Look, I’m sorry about the straw flowers.”

His jaw ticked. “The hour deepens and grows restless. You’ve lingered here long enough.”

“I can tidy the grave—”