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“Good day,’” said the man. The wagon driver was probably in his early thirties, but people aged quickly back then, so he looked old.

His hair was very red and made a stark contrast next to the gray-white beard that obscured his features.

The grace that saved the man’s looks was a pair of clear blue eyes that gave an impression of kindness. “’Where are you off to?’”

“I thought about what to say and decided to return the question instead. ’Where are you off to?’

“He didn’t seem to mind my lack of conversational skill and answered with a good-natured smile.

“’We’ll be in Tamworth by midday. My horse will pull me there along with this hay’.

“I looked at the load in the wagon. ’Hay?’ I asked.

“He gestured to his cargo. ’This hay was stored in a loft in a dry barn. With this cursed rain ruining everything to rot, it’s worth its weight in gold.’

“I nodded as if I were an authority on the commercial exchange of hay for gold.

“’If you’re coming, hop up,’ he said. ’This horse will pull the hay, and me, and you too, but I need to get to Tamworth before the rain starts again.’

“’Thank you,’ I said, dutifully jumping into the back of the wagon where I found it agreeable enough to ride sitting on tied bundles of hay.

“I pulled a chunk of bread from my pocket and ate, then washed it down with the ale I’d lifted from the tavern.

It would’ve been better to take water, but I had no experience with planning.

Fortunately, the bread soaked up much of the alcohol and left me with a pleasant sensation of feeling full and pain-free. ”

She stopped for a sip of toddy and a deep breath. “Told you it’s a long story, didn’t I?”

“I feel very touched that you’ve chosen to share this with me,” I said, sincerely meaning every word of that.

I’d thought I was setting off on a more or less carefree afternoon to say hello to Esme, talk about clothes, and imbibe a toddy before getting back to the work that had brought me to Hallow Hill.

But I wasn’t sorry in the least that it turned into an opportunity to hear my friend’s story.

It made me feel ever so much closer to her and, oddly or not, more protective of her.

She lowered her eyes so that her natural long black lashes brushed her cheek, then took a sip of toddy. “This is good,” she said.

“A cure for what ails you.”

“Have you heard enough?” The look in her eyes told me that she was hoping I’d say no.

I didn’t have to tell one of those innocent social lies. I was in for a pound. “I want to hear everything you will share. Honestly, I feel like I didn’t really know you before today, my friend.”

“I’ve kept my beginnings private for good reason.”

I’d heard enough to readily comprehend that reason. “So long as you want to keep this secret, it’s safe with me.”

“Even from the sephalion?”

“Yes. Even from him.”

“Because I don’t want Kagan to…”

I was dying to ask why, but I stayed diplomatically silent, a rare occurrence for me.

“Anyway, where was I?”

“You got a ride to Tamworth from a nice redheaded man.”

She smiled slightly. “Yes. He was kind. I hopped off when we reached Tamworth. As he’d said, it was midday.

In some ways, the town was familiar. It sat in the shadow of a castle not nearly as large or pretty as Kenilworth, but decidedly Norman.

The town, on the other hand, was much larger and busier.

“I stood near the main intersection of mostly pedestrian traffic and looked around wondering what twist fate had in mind for me. Strangely, I’d had a sense that I was once again being guided by something unseen.

I was still puzzled as to why I wasn’t afraid and more than a little guilty about the feeling of exhilaration.

After all, my mother had been burned at the stake only two days earlier.

I had no right to feel anything except grief.

But there I was in the middle of Tamworth.

No fear. No grief. Only an abiding belief that I was where I was supposed to be, as was my mother.

“So, I began a look around to see what was there. When I reached the end of the main street, I came upon a weaver’s hut.

The door was open, so I looked in and saw a gray-haired woman humming as she turned her spinning wheel.

A girl close to my age was operating a loom nearby, weaving something pretty.

Perhaps not worthy of my mother’s work, but pretty.

“When I knocked on the door jamb, both of them looked up. The old woman stopped both her humming and spinning, but the girl continued the rhythm of working the loom.

“’Come in, girl,’ she said. ’Don’t just stand there in the lovely sunshine.’

“It was a curious thing to say, but I did as I was bid and stepped in.

“’Do you know how to weave?’ she asked.

“I nodded, first glancing at the loom, then looking at the spinning wheel where she sat. It was both larger and finer than my mother’s. It even had a rosy polish that made it seem grand.

“’Do you know how to spin as well?’ she asked.

“Again, I nodded.

“’Are you mute or can you speak?’ she demanded.

‘“I can speak,’ I said.

“’And you’re here looking for work?’

“Was I? I supposed that could be the thing that had drawn me to the spot where I stood. So, again, I nodded.

“’If you want to work for me, you’ll need to use words,’ she said.

“’I know words,’ I answered.

“’Very good,’ she said sharing a smile with the girl at the loom. ’This is Rodicea. She’s been with me about a year and is coming along fine. What’s your name?’

“’Esmerelda.’

“’A fine name,’ she said, ’but too grand for this humble cottage.

Roddy and I will call you Esme. You can call me Widow Mims.’ I opened my mouth to speak, but she rose from her stool and looked me over.

‘You’ll share a bed with Roddy, share what’s on the table with the two of us, and get two shillings a week.

That’s if I like your work. Where’s the rest of your things? ’

“’This is all I have,’ I said quietly, thumbing the pocket hem of my apron.

“’Hmmmph. Well, I can’t have you working for me and looking like that.

Sometimes we have fine ladies stop in to see what we’ve been up to.

’ She turned to Rodicea. ’Go see if the Widow Henry has a suitable dress.

’ Roddy immediately stopped what she was doing and headed for the door.

“’We’ll get this off you and give it a wash and a brush. ’

“That’s how I came to apprentice for the Widow Mims. It was a decent life. Much better than anything I’d known. Maybe spinning and weaving made me feel close to my mother. Maybe I had a natural talent for it. What matters is, it stuck.

“I worked in various places over the next bit of time. About a hundred years ago, I met with a spot of good fortune. Lochlan came into my workspace and offered me the chance to have my own shop in Hallow Hill. I’d never thought about being a store owner and working for myself, but I liked the sound of it and came along. Been here ever since.”

Esme’s shop had been operating for a hundred years? I thought. She didn’t look a day over thirty. I resolved to do the math later and figure out exactly how old she must be.

“So, now you understand why I had to end things with Kagan.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m lost. I really don’t see what this has to do with that.”

She looked dumbfounded. “Haven’t you been listening? I can’t be in a relationship with Kagan because I’m human!”

I stared, open-mouthed, for a few seconds before I laughed out loud. Esme looked confused, but unaware of what she’d just said to me.

Calming my laughter, I said, “I’m not sure where to start. First, that is ridiculous. You’re not human. I don’t have a label for what sort of fantastical creature you are, and clearly, you don’t either, but your conclusion is highly flawed.

“Second, even if you were human, which, and just in case I haven’t said it enough, you are not , what does that have to do with Kagan?”

“Kagan is a sephalion.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper as if she was awestruck. “He deserves a companion who’s worthy of that.”

“Worthy of what?” I frowned. “What sort of person do you imagine that is?”

“Well,” she sniffed, “fae nobility perhaps. Certainly not a human!”

“Esme, do you actually know who you’re talking to right now?”

It took a couple of heartbeats for recognition to finally register on her features. “Oh. Well. You know what I mean.”

“I wish I didn’t, but yes. I’m beginning to grasp the depth of your bias against humans.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. The damage had been done. “Does he know why you ended things?”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously.

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Kagan is a good soul. He’d probably take pity on me and say it’s not relevant. But I think too much of him to put him in that position.”

“What position is that, again? Indulge me.”

“Choosing someone beneath him.”

“You mean like Keir did?”

She blanched when she realized where the conversation had taken us. “Uh, no. Of course, not.” She did her best to recover. “You’re the magistrate, perhaps the most important figure of the era. It’s not the same thing as being a shopkeeper.”

I shook my head again. I never would’ve taken Esme for low self-esteem. Everything about her shouted just the opposite.

“I don’t even know where to start. First, you are a shopkeeper, but you are not just a merchant who buys things for a pound and sells them for two.

You are the creator and purveyor of purely magical works of wearable art.

There is a vast difference between those two things.

Second, just because we can’t name your species doesn’t mean you’re human.

You really, really, really aren’t. Now, back to the subject. Esme, do you like Kagan?”

I’d never seen Esmerelda looking shy, but she was blushing around the edges. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Is he the one?”

“For me, yes. But I’m not the one for him.”

“And you decided what he wants? For him?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, that’s the first rule of healthy male/female relationships. Neither tells the other what they should like, what they should want, or how they should feel. Love means letting the other person be who they are. That means allowing them to make their own choices and then supporting them.”

She sat back as if she were thinking that over. “You’re giving me a lecture on love?”

“Of the two of us, I’m judging myself the authority in the room.”

“You think I made a mistake.” “A whopper.”

She picked up her mug of toddy, gulped, and slammed it down on the table like we were four sheets to a beer garden. “Let’s say I was to consider agreeing with you.”

“Let’s say.”

“What would I do to, ah…”

“Get him back?”

“Yes. How did you contact him before?”

She scrunched her brow like I was daft. “Cell phone.”

“Do you usually call or text?”

“Both.”

“Okay. How did you end it?”

“I told him not to contact me anymore.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How did he take it?”

“I think his feelings were bruised, but I’m guessing. Sometimes Kagan hides his feelings.”

I laughed. “Sometimes? Esme, I can guarantee you that Kagan’s feelings were bruised.

Go back to the shop. Leave the closed sign up.

Call him on the phone. If he answers, tell him you’re an idiot and you can’t live without him.

If there’s no answer, and you have to text, tell him that you need to talk to him right away.

Then, when he calls, tell him you’re an idiot and you can’t live without him. ”

“I don’t think that’s as easy as you make it sound.”

“It’s easier than you think. Want to know why?”

“Yes.”

“Because he’s crazy about you and doesn’t know why you rejected him. He most likely thinks it’s something he did wrong.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“Like I said, he doesn’t know that. That’s why what you did was borderline cruel. Honestly, I feel so bad for Kagan right now, and that’s hard to process because I don’t like him all that much.”

“Rita!”

“Well, it’s true. He’s just so sullen and broody. Like walking angst.”

“He’s just that way around other people because Killian takes all the air out of the room.”

I laughed. “You might be onto something if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s the same when Killian isn’t around. Seriously, is he really different with you?”

She smiled and blushed again. “Yes.”

“Well, then, it’s decided. Operation Get Kagan Back is underway.”

That was when I realized the color I was seeing in Esme’s cheeks wasn’t blushing. It was excitement!

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Okay.”

“Everybody who participated in what happened to you and your mother should be tormented forever in Hades. But they probably sensed magic in her and blamed her because of primitive, misguided thinking. Maybe she was masquerading as human to protect you. I mean, on top of everything you told me, humans don’t have your longevity. You must know that.”

“Yes.”

“And they don’t make magical garments.”

“You think I’m a witch.”

“Not qualified to say or even guess. I don’t know anything about how non-humans assign labels. So far as I’m concerned, you’re my good friend with amazing talent, who looks as good now as she did a long, long, long, long, long time ago.”

She laughed. “I haven’t had a real friend since Roddy.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was human. What do you think?”

I shook my head and sighed. Sometimes people can’t see what’s right in front of them.

“I think you should also invite Kagan to the Vampire Ball. Black tie for gentlemen. Midnight blue for ladies.”

“Back to this?” She grinned.

“Actually, back to work for me. Back to relationship mending for you.”

“I suppose you want me to make you a dress,” Esme said in a bored monotone.

“Well, duh.”

“I’m not making you look better than me this time.”

“Yes, you will. Or I won’t get you an invitation for Kagan.”

“Devil.”

“Witch.”