Feeling ill, I whisper, “I don’t think he’s a gnome.”
Galinor looks grim.
There’s movement in the doorway. Our eyes dart to the entry, but it’s only Brynna with a tray. “Tea, cider, or mead?” she asks Galinor. Her voice shakes, and she keeps sending wary glances to the ceiling.
Galinor seems uneasy, and that makes me infinitely more nervous.
“Cider will be fine,” I say.
With trembling hands, Brynna pours the cider first for Galinor and then for me.
I take the pitcher from her. “I can do the rest.”
She nods, grateful, and leaves us.
“Our kitchen maid makes excellent scones,” I say, needing to fill the eerie silence. “The crimsonberry are the tastiest, but the pumpkin ones are fine as well.” I gulp a breath. “As long as you have enough butter. One year the cow stopped—”
Galinor sets his hand on my shoulder. “Anwen.” His eyes meet mine. “It will be all right.”
I set the scones down and cover my face with my hands. “What is he?”
“He is your father.”
There’s another roar—this time followed by a scream and a crash—and despite Galinor’s words, his hand goes to his sword. He hesitates, and then he stands.
But before he can investigate, Mother comes into the room. Though her hair is a little disheveled, she seems unharmed. She won’t look at me—the food and drink have her full attention. “You must be starving. Please, sit. Eat.” There’s more demand than request in her voice, and we both slowly sink back to our chairs.
As I bring my cider to my lips, I share a disconcerted look with Galinor.
Galinor cornersme in the stables when I check on Mara. “You can’t stay here.”
“What choice do I have?” I glance up at him, meetinghis cobalt eyes before I look away. “It’s my fault he’s this way.”
Galinor’s hands move to my shoulders, his expression hard. “It’s not safe. Don’t pretend it is.”
“He’s my father. I can’t leave him now.”
He looks thoughtful, and he takes a deep breath. I lean closer, eager for what he’s going to say. Before he speaks, we are interrupted by the voice of a groom and the stable boy. I put my finger to my lips so he’ll know to keep quiet.
“Come back with me,” Galinor says when the voices have faded. “Stay with my family in Glendon. You’ll be our guest until we can figure something out.”
I let out my held breath, disappointed, and stare at the hay-covered floor. I was hoping for more.
It doesn’t matter. Even if Galinor feels the same way I do, I can’t leave my family again—not when I’ve already caused them so much pain. It’s better if he doesn’t return my feelings. I don’t want to hurt him, too.
“Don’t say no yet,” he whispers. “Think about it.”
Outside, the light grows dim. The horses happily eat their evening meal, and it’s quiet except for their occasional nicker.
“When will you leave?” I ask, my voice quiet.
He sighs and leans against a stall wall. “I was planning on tomorrow.” He raises his eyes to mine. “But I’ll stay longer if you want me to.”
“You’ve already done so much.”
We’re quiet for several moments.
“Think about it, Anwen.”
