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She unlocked the door, opened it just enough for her and the goat to squeeze through, and stepped into the dark, warm forge. The smell of hot iron and smoke lingered in the air, and the furnace threw out a red glow.

She didn’t bother to light a lamp, she used the firelight to walk to the bench of tools, found a sharp pair of pliers, and sat down on one of the sawn-off logs Jackson used as chairs in a place where tiny sparks flew around and burned whatever they touched.

“Come here, I’ll cut it off.”

The goat approached warily, as if suddenly worried about her intentions.

She said nothing, sitting patiently, and with a sudden sigh, it pushed up against her, laying its head on her lap.

She took the pliers, slid them between the fur and the twine, and cut.

CHAPTER 5

He was free.

Theo tried to rise from his crouch in front of the woman and cramps gripped him. He toppled to the side, unable to straighten up, the pain intense.

The woman reached out to catch him as he fell, lunging forward, but he was head and shoulders taller than her and considerably heavier, although she did manage to cushion his fall a little.

He gritted his teeth to stop himself groaning.

He didn’t try to get up. He lay, curled on his side until the pain faded, then turned on his back and slowly stretched out his limbs, feeling the muscles in his back sing with relief as he was at last able to stretch out.

He turned his head to look at the woman.

She had landed on the floor beside him and was leaning against the leg of a workbench, knees bent, arms looped around her shins.

Her hair was long and the color of chocolate, dark and heavy. At her hairline, around her face, some strands were golden, and here and there, caught in the light from the forge, they gleamed as if she’d threaded golden silk through her braid.

She was beautiful. And somehow, she had saved him.

Theo closed his eyes, then opened them again slowly, just to confirm he was himself again.

The light was low, but the woman was clear enough, her chin resting on top of her knees, her gaze fixed on him. The copper twine that had imprisoned him was hanging from one of her fingers.

From his place on the floor he held out his hand, and as if she immediately understood what he meant, she dropped the twine into his palm without a word. He slowly rolled to his feet, stretching again, and felt the bones in his spine pop. He limped to the furnace and threw the twine into it, and it flared green before it melted.

Now he was properly free.

He looked back at her.

She remained on the floor, eyes on the flames, a serene look on her face, as if he had freed her, as well.

“Who are you?” he asked. He hardly recognized his voice, it was so rough.

“Oh.” She looked up at him and gave a shy smile. “I’m Melodie.”

He offered her a hand and she took it, her eyes widening a little as he lifted her effortlessly to her feet.

Her hand felt calloused, and she had a firm grip.

“I’m Theo. I owe you.”

She studied him, shook her head. “You don’t owe me for doing the right thing.”

“How did you know I was in there?” No one else had. He had been tied to that pole for a night and almost a full day, and all anyone had seen was a goat.

He had only known that was what he’d been turned into because he’d seen his reflection in the sluggish waters of the Malin River.