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Extortion, that was what it was—or that was what it appeared to be. Rue worked, and the foundling home benefited. My sense of justice pricked me. “If I can find you a better arrangement, would you be interested in it?”

“Perhaps.” Rue tilted her head slightly, peering up at me for a moment before she resumed walking. “It depends on whether or not I could bring Mela with me.”

“Mela?”

She ducked her head, her hair falling over her face. “She is a foundling that I take care of. Prout would love to expel her, but I won’t let her. I found her on the steps of the mill on my way home from the tavern about two years ago. She was such a tiny creature, and the miller and his family refused to claim her. Prout says she is their responsibility, but I disagree.” Rue’s mouth tightened in anger. “A foundling is a foundling no matter how they came into our care.”

“Is Mela a fae, too?” It would explain Prout’s strange reluctance to care for the child.

Rue shook her head. “Human as any other child in the village. In fact, she is a bit more fragile than most. She caught croup last winter and almost died.”

We traveled in companionable silence for a while until the bell in the meeting house in the village let out a throaty tone. Rue’s head came up, and she paled.

“Is it really that late?” Gathering the skirt of her kirtle, she lifted it and started to run. “Come. Blossom will be waiting up for me, and growing girls need their sleep.”

Accustomed to running long distances over rough terrain, I easily matched her pace as we broke through the tree line where the path entered the far side village. The bell struck eleven just as we reached the far side of the village and approached a dreary stone building. The shutters were closed tight, and no smoke came from the chimney. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said the building had been abandoned.

Rue glanced over her shoulder at me as I followed her through the gap in the falling-down wall that enclosed the property. “Please be quiet. Mistress Prout will be abed by now. She hates being roused so late.”

“Then how will you get in?” I whispered.

“Blossom will unlock the door for me.” Rue paused just inside the yard and turned to bow. “Thank you for escorting me.” Then she rushed toward the door.

In her haste, she stumbled on the uneven ground, catching herself before reaching the door. She tapped lightly on the wood and someone inside opened it just far enough for her to slip through. The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, and the bolt fell into place.

I stood next to the crumbling wall for a moment, scanning the yard, opening my senses to the murmurs of the night. The wind moved through the trees. Distantly a fox screamed.

As I turned to make my way back through the village, a man-shaped figure separated itself from the shadows of the next house and made a dash for the forest behind the building. I watched him go with growing annoyance. Not a hint of magic came from the figure, further confirming my suspicions. Apparently, Yurtin didn’t just lack understanding; he was also persistent.

I would need to speak to my mother. Rue would need a nightly escort until either Yurtin respected her rejection of his advances, or I found her a better employer and living situation.

Chapter Three

Kent

“You are late.” My mother’s gentle voice greeted me as I let myself into my childhood home.

Stooping to avoid hitting my head on the low casing, I slipped into our main room that served as kitchen, dining room, and living room. She looked up from the large table in the center and smiled tiredly at me.

“You didn’t need to wait for me. I would’ve stirred up the fire when I arrived.” I worked my feet from my boots and shrugged out of my cloak.

“Still hiding your face from the world?” she asked as she reached out toward the covered mug on the table. Magic wisps curled from her fingers, caressing the sides of the humble vessel, heating it until steam began wafting up from the liquid within.

“It is my job to stay in the background,” I pointed out as I hung my cloak before padding across the hard-packed dirt floor in my stocking-covered feet. I kissed the top of her head as I passed her on the way to where the laundry hung, drying along the far wall. “We agreed it was safer for both of us that I not call attention to the fact I am fae.” Pulling a quilt from the line, I threw it about my shoulders, savoring the dry heat of the cloth as it settled against my back. I sank into the chair across from her and reached for the now steaming mug.

The familiar scent of cinnamon, cloves, and a hint of honey from my mother’s beehives teased my nose. I drank deeply of the fragrant liquid and savored the sensation of it soothing the day’s stresses away. The gentle tingling swell of Mother’s healing spells spread through my body. Water magnified her magic, strengthening the herbal effects of the tea. Swallowing, I paused before taking another taste, studying my mother.

Mother once more bent over her work, resewing a ripped seam in a silk gown. Her slender fingers moved with the skill and delicacy that kept her work in high demand. Her dark-green hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves. Freed from the net she used to bind it back during the day, it glowed ethereally in the firelight, betraying her naiad blood to any who knew the characteristics to look for.

“How did today’s work go?” I asked.

All through my childhood, she’d taken in washing from the local nobles and merchants that benefited from trade with the residents of the Wild Wood and the human world farther south.

She nodded in response without looking up from the mending in her hands. “Lady Margaret appreciated the lace I made and offered me double market value if I could produce three more lengths of it in the same pattern before the next dance.”

I took another swallow of tea before I asked, “What did you tell her?”

“I agreed to the terms.” She nodded toward the chest in the far corner. “I also picked up more linen thread on the way home. The price was high, but the profit should buy us fuel for the winter.”