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I set Mela down on the table’s edge, but she clung to my cloak, preventing me from retreating far before Rue returned.

Throwing her threadbare cloak around the child, Rue nudged me aside so she could resume rubbing Mela’s feet. “Now, sweet, this is important. Please look at me.”

Mela complied, turning her gaze to Rue’s face.

“Where did you leave your shoes?”

“I had them on when I went outside to fetch the firewood.” Mela’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “But when—” Her voice failed and moisture filled her eyes. “I am sorry, Rue. I tried—I really did.”

“Hush.” Rue stroked the child’s arms. “You are more important than shoes, sweet. I just needed to know if they are truly gone or not.”

Mela broke down in silent tears as Rue pulled her close, smoothing the child’s rumpled curls and whispering soft reassurances.

“Might a bit of bread and butter help?” Broan asked.

Mela straightened and pushed away from Rue with a sniffle. “Yes, please. Mistress Prout took away my dinner. I am so very hungry.”

Without question, Broan prepared and handed over a thick slab of hearty brown bread with a generous coating of butter, which Mela set to devouring.

“Slow, little one, or you will give yourself indigestion,” Broan admonished.

Mela obediently paused before resuming her attack on the meal with deliberate slowness.

“It is a crime,” Broan informed Rue. “Children should be fed regularly and well. They need proper meals to thrive. I should know. Raised five of my own, don’t you know.”

“Agreed.” Rue’s already worried expression grew even grimmer as she watched the child eat. “Kent?”

She backed away from the table and turned to face the far corner, clearly wishing to speak aside. I followed her, stepping close so we could whisper without straining our ears.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“Will Mela and I be allowed to eat some of what I grow if we come to live with you and your mother?”

“You won’t go hungry in my home, Rue, I promise.” I felt the slight flare of magic marking my promise becoming a binding, but I didn’t care. She must’ve felt it, too, because she flinched.

“I did not require that.”

“I offer it freely.”

Rue glanced back at Mela. The child continued to munch on her bread, chattering at Broan as the cook finished clearing away the last of the day’s mess. Then with a slight nod, Rue lifted her face to me. Her lovely features still bore all the signs of exhaustion, starvation, and worry, but her eyes remained calm.

“On behalf of Mela, I accept your offer of work, food, and shelter for the both of us on one condition.”

For a brief moment, I wanted to shout in triumph. She had agreed. Mother would be cared for, Rue and Mela would be away from Yurtin’s obsession, and I could focus on pursuing alternative employment. Apparently, it was time for me to move on to my next opportunity.

“Aren’t you curious about the condition?” She peered up at me.

“What do you propose?” I asked.

“Mela and I can walk away from the arrangement at any moment.”

“I am not trying to trap you.”

“You are fae,” she pointed out flatly, but the focused attention she gave to my shadowed features hinted that my response counted far more than she wished me to know.

“Not all fae are tricksters.”

“Ah, but most are.”