"And if we say we want to go south?"
"Then you go south. With food. With water. With a knife better than the one you tried to gut me with." The corner of Varek's mouth moved. "You'd be walking with the other servants. Six miles to the nearest village. After that, you find your own way."
Tibbs was quiet for a long moment. His eyes moved from Varek to Mab to Annie, then back to Varek. Calculating.
"You didn't kill me," Tibbs said finally. "In the pantry. I swung at you and you just... stepped back."
"You were protecting them." Varek's voice held no judgment. "A boy who fights for his people is a boy worth keeping."
Tibbs looked at him for a long beat. Then he nodded.
"I want to stay." The words came out rough, almost defiant, like he expected to be told he'd chosen wrong. "If Mab's staying, I'm staying."
Annie's grip on the coverlet tightened. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying. Not quite.
"Annie." Mab turned toward the bed, keeping her voice soft. "You don't have to decide right now. You can think about it."
"I don't want to think about it." Annie's voice was small but steady. "I want to stay with you."
"Even if staying means going north? To the Iron Wilds? Living with orcs?"
Annie's chin wobbled. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she didn't look away. "You're the only one who's nice to me. You and Tibbs. Everyone else is gone or—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I don't want to walk to the village. I don't know anyone in the village."
Mab's chest ached. She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, gathering Annie against her side. The girl pressed into her immediately, face buried against Mab's shoulder.
"Then we stay," Mab said. The words came out firmer than she felt. "All three of us."
Varek nodded. "Breakfast is in the hall. Get dressed. I'll wait outside."
Mab looked down at herself. At the stained apron, the wrinkled dress she'd slept in, the bare feet she'd been padding around on since she woke. "We don't have anything else to wear."
"There are clothes in the wardrobe." Varek was already moving toward the door. "Lady Cresswick won't be needing them."
The door closed behind him before Mab could respond.
Chapter 6
The wardrobe was exactly what Mab expected.
She stood in front of it with the doors open, Annie pressed against her side, and looked at row after row of fitted gowns. Silk and velvet and fine-spun wool. Bodices cut close to the ribs. Waists nipped in. Sleeves that would end four inches above her wrists.
"They're pretty," Annie said quietly.
"They are."
Mab reached out and touched the sleeve of a green velvet gown. The fabric was softer than anything she'd ever worn. Softer than anything she'd ever touched, except for the rare occasions she'd been trusted to carry Lady Cresswick's linens up from the laundry.
She pulled the gown from its hook and held it against herself. The shoulders were too narrow by three inches. The waist would never close. The bodice was cut for a woman who'd been lacedinto corsets since childhood, whose body had been trained to take up less space than nature intended.
Mab put it back.
She went through four more gowns before she stopped trying. A blue silk that wouldn't make it past her hips. A gray wool that might have fit if she'd been willing to leave the back unlaced. A cream-colored thing with seed pearls that she didn't even bother lifting from its hook.
"Mab?" Annie's voice was small. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." Mab kept her voice even. "These just aren't made for me."
At the back of the wardrobe, behind the gowns, she found what she was looking for. Nightclothes. A stack of them, folded on a shelf, made for sleeping rather than display. Mab pulled out the largest one and shook it open.
