But none of them were Tessa.
CHAPTER 2
“Ishouldn’t be here this long,” Madeline whispered to herself as she slipped deeper into the tent, her mitten-covered hand pressing lightly against the canvas wall for balance. “Just until he passes.”
The warmth inside the skating tent wrapped around her instantly, a soft balm against the winter air and the panic running cold through her veins. Children clung to one another as they skated uncertainly; adults guided them with laughter, and the scrape of blades across frozen water hummed beneath every breath.
Madeline kept to the edges, near a group of village girls tying laces on their skates. Her own breath came too quickly, fogging the air before her. She forced herself to steady it, to blend into the shifting, living mass of bodies and voices, and for a moment, she almost felt safe.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak.
If Hale enters this tent, he’ll see you. You must think. You must stay calm.
Yet calm refused to come. It fluttered, broken-winged, as her heart pressed painfully against her ribs.
A sudden cry cut through the air, shrill enough to ripple through the music and laughter. Madeline looked up and saw a little girl with pale scars across her cheeks, slipping helplessly on the ice. Her skates wobbled beneath her and her small arms flailed as she fought to keep herself upright. The panic in her eyes was unmistakable.
Several onlookers paused, their expressions tightening with discomfort rather than concern. A woman near the railing whispered to her companion, her voice low but still carrying.
“Poor child,” she murmured, as though pity were a kindness she was offering from afar.
A man beside her clicked his tongue. “Cursed luck, that face,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Another woman stepped back slightly, folding her arms as if protecting herself.
“I would not touch her,” she said under her breath, though the words were loud enough to sting. “Not with those marks.”
Madeline felt heat flare beneath her ribs, something hot surging through her in a single, decisive flash. Disgust. Anger. And beneath it all, fierce protectiveness. How dared they speak so cruelly about an innocent child?
Without another thought, Madeline pushed forward, moving before reason could intervene, moving because no one else would.
The girl’s boots slid slightly on the frosted edge of the rink, but Madeline caught her just as the child’s knees buckled. Madeline steadied her, guiding her toward the wooden railing, lowering her gently until she could breathe again.
“There now,” Madeline murmured, brushing a curl from the girl’s forehead. “That was quite the slip. Are you hurt?”
The girl shook her head, but her lip trembled. “I-I didn’t mean to fall.”
Madeline did not answer at once. She lifted her head and looked past the railing, scanning the benches and the path beyond the rink.
Hale was nowhere in sight.
Her hand tightened briefly on the girl’s sleeve before she looked back down.
“No one ever means to fall,” Madeline said softly. “But you handled it bravely. You reached out for balance, and you didn’t let yourself hit the ground. That was quite clever of you, my dear.”
The girl blinked at that, surprise widening her blue eyes as they pierced straight through Madeline’s chest.
“Most people don’t say things like that to me,” the girl whispered, her voice wobbling in a way that struck far too close to something tender inside Madeline.
Madeline touched the girl’s cheek lightly, brushing a stray curl from her face with a gentleness she did not need to think about.
“Then most people have not been looking at you properly,” she said quietly, letting warmth steady her tone. “You are far more capable than they allow themselves to believe.”
For a heartbeat, the child simply stared at her, eyes wide, and it made Madeline feel as though she had reached into a dark room and opened a window. Then, without hesitation or self-consciousness, the girl stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Madeline’s waist.
The embrace hit her like a sudden rush of air.
Madeline stilled, caught between surprise and a tight, aching swell of feeling that rose so quickly it almost unbalanced her. The girl’s small hands clung to her coat as if she were somethingsafe, worth holding. Warmth seeped through the layers of wool. Madeline felt it travel upward, past her ribs, then her chest, into a place that had been hollow for far too long.
