“He judges everyone.”
“I would too if I had cheekbones like that.”
Thomas looked down at her.
“I meant the horse,” she said quickly.
“Of course.”
“I did.”
“Aye.”
“You are enjoying this far too much for a man who never smiles.”
“I am not enjoying it.”
“Your face almost did something.”
“My face does many things.”
“Not so far.”
This time he did smile, barely, and it was so quick she might have imagined it if her whole body hadn’t gone hot.
Then the smile faded. He stopped near the stable wall, where fewer people could see them, though Amelia sensed the whole yard was pretending very hard not to listen. Thomas turned to face her, and the concern in his eyes was worse than suspicion. Suspicion she could fight. Concern had corners she might cut herself on.
“You are frightened.”
It wasn’t a question.
Amelia looked down at her muddy hem, her borrowed shoes, and her hand resting on his arm as if it belonged there. Her knuckle ached beneath the dried cut. The air smelled of hay, rain, leather and horse. Somewhere nearby a child laughed, then was hushed.
“I’m gathering information,” she said.
“Is that what you call it?”
“Yes.”
“And when you have gathered it?”
“I’ll make a plan.”
His gaze held hers. “And if no plan can mend whatever ails you?”
The question struck too close. She pulled her hand from his arm and wrapped both arms around herself, the wool blanket bunching beneath her fingers. “Then I’ll make another one.”
He was silent so long she thought he might press her about the sword, the dentist, the flight, all the impossible scraps she had spilled at his feet like broken glass. Instead, he looked toward the tower and then back at her.
“You have addled your wits so we will forget talk of dentists, and falling through time itself.”
That nearly undid her. Not because it solved anything. It solved nothing. She was still stranded in a century where breakfast could intoxicate her and women who fell out of nowhere were called faery women instead of missing persons. She had no phone, no money, no way home, and no explanation that wouldn’t end with her locked up, prayed over, or worse.
But Thomas, who had every reason to demand answers, was not demanding them. She didn’t even care that he thought she was clueless.
Amelia took a breath that trembled going in and steadied, a little, going out.
“Thank you,” she said.
