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“Lottie!” I cried and wiped my nose. “Come look!” No movement came from the cottage. Standing in the doorway, Rook glanced over his shoulder. He shook his head and shrugged. I turned to my mother and sniffled. “Where is she?”

“Outside, practicing?” Mother lowered her voice. “She didn’t seem to like your visitor.”

“No.” I pushed myself up. “I noticed that.”

“I should go,” Rook said, backing down the hall.

Mother stood. “Stay for tea.”

Rook backed away faster. “Really, I must go.”

“You will stay for tea,” my mother commanded and joined us. Passing Rook, she added, “I’d like to know more of the man who saved my children.” She headed to the kitchen, leaving us alone. Rook looked at me, helpless.

I mouthed, ‘Good luck,’ and then said, “I need to change.”

Standing at my wardrobe, I couldn’t decide what to wear.

I dragged garments along their hangers, finding fault with every single one.

Finally, I came to the last hanger. It held a beautiful dress I’d only worn once, shortly after I’d made it many years ago.

It was olive and cream, with pink threads.

A little cream dove carried stitches along the hem.

Father possessed a remarkable attention to detail; he’d squealed with delight when he’d seen that dove.

This was a happy dress—a happy memory. I pulled it out.

I changed and met Rook in the hall. He’d remained exactly where I’d left him, almost as if he were too frightened to leave and risk meeting my mother.

The dress fit me well, but it was a touch tight in the chest. Rook’s gaze dropped to my breasts.

His eyes snapped shut, and he looked away, appalled he couldn’t control his wandering gaze.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Rook pointed to the crossbow I’d leaned against the wall. “Keep it handy.” We walked to the den, and he said, “You’re sure it wasn’t the red-headed lad?”

“I’m certain. I trust Ruven.”

Rook’s brows pulsed once, conveying a slight irritation at the idea. “He cares about you.”

Had it been the way Ruven looked at me? The way he’d longed to reach out and embrace before he left? I asked, “What gave it away?”

“The way he looked at me.”

Back in the den, I felt shame. To see Rook sitting in the crumbling cottage, in the old, worn armchair, I couldn’t bear it. I started tidying, kicking a bit of crumbled stone behind the sofa. I moved to pick up a pillow, but Rook caught my hand.

“I feel more at home here than any castle. I beg of you, please, sit.”

I set the crossbow on the arm of the sofa and sat.

Leaning back, I glanced at my mother in the kitchen and lowered my voice.

“This hasn’t felt like a home in a long time.

” I fluffed a tattered pillow. “I think we’re ready to move on, but we’re scared to go somewhere my father never existed.

” I gulped and fluffed the pillow again. “It would be difficult.”

“I understand.” Rook smiled. Though it was not an encouraging smile. Shame weighted his shoulders, and he focused on the table between us.

“Even if we wanted to leave”—I looked at the crumbling walls—“we haven’t the means.”

“I could build you a home,” Rook said, with an eagerness that startled us both.

“I mean, I could, if you wanted.” He cleared his throat and resumed staring at the table.

“My mother was a builder. My lumber deliveries often ended in exploited labour, on her part.” Rook continued, “I considered building myself a cottage, inside the castle walls. Something of my own, away from the drafty cage.” He frowned and gestured vaguely.

“But what was the point of it, if it was just me?” Rook fluffed his own pillow.

“But for you…” Rook watched me closely when he said, “If you wanted it.”

Somehow, Rook had peered inside me and unburied the dream I’d kept hidden for so long.

Gazing upon the fire, I let myself picture it.

A bright new cottage in the woods. I took my time, seeing all the details that were blurry in previous imaginings.

The walls a soft cream, letting light through airy lavender curtains.

I’d heard you could dye fabrics lavender using cherry roots, but I’d never had a chance to try.

I could try now. In the morning, I’d wander outside and tend my own peonies.

I’d bring in vegetables for supper. And in my fantasy, at the end of the day, when I sat by the fire with a cup of tea and my sewing kit…

Rook sat next to me.

“I think—”

Mother joined us and set down a tray of biscuits. She placed a kettle in the fire and settled on the sofa with me. Her brows furrowed at the crossbow, but she didn’t ask. She wasted no time in setting on Rook.

“Where are you from, Everard?”

Rook blanched. “L'orée du bois.” The town across the Hollow.

“Parents?”

“My mother was a crafter. She built homes, and my father was an artist.”

Mother waited.

“They’re dead,” Rook said.

“Sisters? Brothers?”

“None.”

“Beloved?” Red crept into Rook’s cheeks. I took a biscuit. Mother’s gaze shifted to me, lingering on my dress. “What is your profession?” she asked Rook. “Are you a physician?”

“I am not,” Rook replied.

“How is it you came to possess a cure for my son?”

Rook tilted his head and his eyes darted to me.

They narrowed, crying, ‘Help me!’ I shoved the remaining biscuit in my mouth, so I didn’t have to speak.

Mother cleared her throat, reminding Rook she’d asked a question, and it was only polite for him to answer.

Rook’s bulging eyes moved back to my mother.

“I suffer a…similar affliction, and I’m seeking a cure myself.”

“You are?” Mother said, glancing down Rook. “I’ll admit, you’re thin for a crafter’s boy, who I presume can afford food. But truly, you don’t seem ill.”

“I assure you.” Rook gulped, wiping sweat from his brow. “I am.”

Mother nodded, but rather than continue with the topic, she waved at the table. “Eat.”

“Uhhh…” Rook rubbed his throat, and this time, I did jump in to save him.

“We ate already.”

“You did?” Mother turned to me. “Where?”

“Rook’s home.”

“In L'orée du bois?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

“It’s quite a long walk from L'orée du bois, is it not?” Mother asked. “When did you depart?”

“Oh, very early this morning,” I assured—too quickly. Rook gave a subtle but violent shake of his head, as if I’d misspoken.

“By my measure, you would have had to have left yesterday evening,” my mother said. “I’m surprised you aren’t still walking!”

“Oh! Uh, well…”

“If you only left this morning, and arrived here just before noon, I’d have assumed you were coming from somewhere much closer.

Surely, the only place you might depart to arrive here in that time would have been the very centre of the Hollow.

” She laughed and smiled at Rook. “But of course, no person would live in the middle of the Hollow. How ridiculous!”

Rook and I exchanged an awkward chuckle.

When neither of us replied, Mother pursed her lips.

My mother was not stupid—in fact, I don’t know anyone who hadn’t told my mother her cleverness was wasted as a guard.

If there was deception to be found, she would find it.

I wasn’t the best of liars, and seeing Rook skirting my mother’s questions, I was fairly confident he was worse.

At any given comment, he might crumble beneath my mother’s interrogation.

“Stay for dinner,” Mother said. “Liliwen seems quite taken with you.”

“Mother!”

Doing little to conceal his blush, Rook stood. “I thank you for your kindness, but I must bid you farewell.”

My mother nodded, accepting the refusal. “Thank you for saving my son.” Her tone dropped to a whisper. “I wish his father were here to thank you too.” Rook hesitated, and my mother continued, “Lili’s father was murdered—slaughtered—did she tell you that?”

Rook gulped.

“One of my greatest fears is that Liliwen might follow in her father’s footsteps.” She patted my knee. “Anytime she leaves my sight, part of me worries she’ll fall victim to his killer. Share her father’s same brutal end.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, and no one said anything.

Mother sipped her tea.

“Anyhow,” she said, smiling broadly. “I won’t keep you!”

Rook nearly ripped the door from its hinges in his haste to depart.

“I’m going to see him out.” I headed after him.

“Liliwen,” my mother cautioned, her tone stilling me in the doorway. “You will be back for dinner.”

“Yes,” I muttered. “I will be. I swear it.” Though her lips were a tight line, my mother waved.

I met Rook outside, waiting on the short path. As we headed to the back gate, I said, “Thank you. For saving my brother.”

Rook opened the gate and slipped out. “He wouldn’t have needed my saving if I hadn’t attacked him in the first place.” My heart leapt as Rook shut the gate behind himself, before I might slip through.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered. “I know that now.”

We stood with our homes at our backs, and the pretty white gate between us.

Rook pushed a hand through his hair. “You have a beautiful family.” He laughed, a sweet, longing thing. “I’d caution you never to take it for granted, but I know you better than that.”

I glanced back at my home, at the stones that housed all those I cared for.

Well, almost everyone.

I eased the gate open. “I’ll walk with you, just for a little while—”

“I have been selfish,” Rook interrupted, and slammed the gate closed.

“I don’t want you to come with me.” Ignoring Rook, I stepped back and searched for a break in the garden where I might jump over the fence.

Stupid me, putting on a dress because I thought it looked nice.

“Liliwen,” Rook snapped. “Are you listening to me?” I crossed my arms, a gesture that earned a concerned grimace from Rook.

Softening, he said, “You have a chance at a wonderful life here.”

He was right. I wanted to argue, but he was right.

“I see many copper-haired children in your future,” Rook teased with a wink.