Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. At last, Ren asked, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’ve already demanded so much of you,” Pansy mumbled, her cheeks darkening beneath the hot brand of her shame.
The corner of Ren’s mouth twitched. “That’s not what I asked.”
Of course it wasn’t. That was the point. Pansy looked down at her feet, her teeth catching on her lower lip. “I can’t promise my parents won’t say something insensitive,” she said at last, her gaze darting up to meet theirs.
“Good thing I have plenty of experience dealing with thoughtless comments from halflings.”
No doubt Ren had meant the comment as a joke. They weresmiling, for Harvest’s sake! But the memories of those early days had taken on a razor sharpness, whetted on a grindstone of constant shame. Now, they cut across Pansy’s mind like a filleting knife, slicing open parts already tender to the touch.
She must have winced because Ren’s smile dropped all too swiftly, their touch on her elbow ever more insistent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I—” They faltered, lips pressing together hard.
“It’s okay.” Pansy smiled weakly. “What’s one halfling burrow when you’ve already wandered through a whole halfling village, right?” The laugh that followed proved even weaker – and to Pansy’s own ears, at that.
“No, that’s not it at all,” they said, shaking their head. “Pansy, I – I’d like to meet your parents.”
She blinked. “But –why?” she asked, incredulous, prompting Ren to let out a short, half-aborted noise of frustration.
“Just let me go with you,” they insisted. “I came all this way, didn’t I? I hate doing things halfway.”
This time, the snort of laughter that pulled from Pansy’s throat was entirely genuine. Warmth swelled beneath her breastbone, as comforting as the press of Ren’s palm. “All right,” she agreed. “But let me go in first to… prepare them.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t want tofrightenanyone. That being said, Iamcurious. Who do you think can scream louder – you or your parents? I think my ears are still ringing from the squeal you let out your first day at the cottage.”
“I’m going inside!” Pansy all but shouted as she shoved aside the gate.
In stark contrast to her earlier attempt, this motion had too much force behind it. The gate’s hinges, well oiled as always, shifted with barely a whisper, but the gate itself hit the adjoiningfence with a splinteringcrackthat seemed to echo down the empty, burrow-lined street.
It was no wonder then that Pansy’s mother appeared in the window a moment later, hazel eyes narrowed. She spotted Pansy immediately, already halfway up the pebbled garden path. In fact, her daughter was probably the only thing shedidsee, given how quickly she rushed to the door, ripping it open before Pansy could even so much as lift a hand up to knock.
“Oh, blessed Harvest, you’re finally home!” her mother cried, sweeping her up into a bone-crushing hug. Then, turning her head to the side, she called back into the burrow, “Borage! Pansy’s home!”
“Mum, I’m—”
“Pansy, you have no idea howworriedwe were,” her mother said, cupping her face with both hands, unerringly gentle even as she ran roughshod over the conversation. “Every day, your father and I have thought about going into the woods to find you, but the forest is solargeanddark, and I barely even remember where your grandmother’s cottage is these days. Plus, with your father’s awful sense of direction, it was far more likely we’d just get ourselves horribly lost, as Councilor Millwood and Agvaldir so kindly pointed out to us when we were at our least rational.”
Pansy’s heart sank at the mention of the elderly councilor and the wizard. “So, you just waited here,” she said flatly, her voice icier than a winter’s gale. “Waited and hoped I’d come back.”
“Of course we hoped,” said Pansy’s father, appearing in the doorway behind her mother. His face was moderately flushed. So, either he’d raced over from the far end of the burrow or – and this was the option Pansy herself was betting on – he’d swiped a taste of her mother’s famous apple crumble, fresh out of the oven judging from the smell, the moment she’d left togo peer out the window. He’d never been much good at hiding guilt, and helovedhis wife’s apple crumble.
“Pansy, sweetheart,” her mother began, gently stroking the curve of Pansy’s cheekbone with her thumb, “we’re so sorry about what happened the last time you were here. We were afraid that something could happen to you. You know, all your father and I want is for you to be safe and happy—”
“Then there’s someone I want you to meet,” Pansy said, the words coming out strong despite anxiety roiling in her belly.
It was then that her mother finally noticed Ren, still standing by the wagon, their attempt at a casual posture undone by the pronounced line of tension running through them from head to toe. Although their hood was still in place, it was no match for this level of scrutiny.
Pansy’s mother tensed. “You brought a goblin?Here?” she hissed, her voice thinned not by anger but by fear, etched in sharp lines across her face. She glanced around – searching, it seemed, for the invading horde of goblins and orcs that Ren’s presence surely heralded.
“Is this the one you’ve been living with?” asked her father, managing to sound almost calm. The pallor of his lips, however, told the true story. He was just as afraid as her mother was.
“Yes. Their name is Ren, and they’re the kindest, most gentle person I’ve ever met. I need you both to remember that, okay?” She gave her parents a hard look, hoping to impress upon both of them the seriousness of this moment to her,the importance. Her fingers found the bird skull, now suspended on a leather cord around her throat, and gave it a barely there squeeze.
Caught by the motion, her mother’s gaze snapped to the necklace, and something in her expression softened. “All right,” she agreed, finally releasing Pansy. “We’ll meet them.”
“And we’ll be nice,” her father added with a smile.
Pansy let out a breath, the snarl of tension between her shoulder blades finally unspooling. She smiled. “Then you should probably take down Grandma’s old dagger from the mantelpiece.”
