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Trevik left the kitchen with his mother, intending to follow her into the room so he could ask Miss Hollow questions of his own. But the moment Mother opened Poppy’s door, she paused, then slowly backed out of it, securing the door behind her.
“She be sleepin’ already,” she said in an undertone, taking the tray back to the kitchen.
Trevik followed Mother to where she removed her apron to don a thicker, darker one. “I’m off to the cellars, then,” she said, buttoning the apron at the back. “Poppy, will ye be all right to stay ’ere and ensure Morvoren be well? Ye can keep an eye on ’er and bring ’er food when she awakens.”
“’Course, Mother.”
“Thank ye, dear.” Mother faced Trevik next. “Are ye comin’?”
He hesitated. Typically, he’d go with both his mother and sister to the fish processing cellars in the early hours to oversee the work, but today…
“Soon. I need a bite first.”
Mother stilled, staring up at him with an impassive expression.
“What?” he asked, shifting his feet.
“Trevik, don’t ye even consider it.”
He pulled back. “What?” he repeated.
“Ye know what. That look in your eye can’t ne’er be ’idden when ye be up to somethin’.”
“What look?” he questioned, hoping to blink away any culpability that might’ve lingered.
“I know what look,” Poppy piped in. “It be the same one ’e ’ad when ’e stole Father’s pipe and made ’imself sick breathin’ it in all night.”
“That was more ’an ten years ago, that,” he defended himself. “And what do ye know ’bout it, Poppy? Ye were only a pinnack when it ’appened.”
His sister continued. “It also be the same look when ye went poachin’ on Farmer Angwin’s land.”
“Poachin’? I wasn’t poachin’. I was—”
Mother stepped in between them, stopping their argument. “I be in earnest, Trev. Don’t go in there and wake up the poor girl.”
He pulled an innocent expression. “As if I’d ever.”
Mother simply pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’ll be back shortly, and when I return, she best still be sleepin’.”
“‘Tain’t up to I. I’ll be at the cellars ’fore ye at this rate.”
Mother sniffed in disbelief, then finally left the house behind with a wave.
Trevik didn’t wait a moment, heading straight for Poppy’s room.
“Trevik, ye can’t!” Poppy cried out in a harried whisper, racing after him. “Mother told ye to let ’er rest!”
“She can rest after she answers me questions.”
They reached the door, but Poppy jumped in front of it, her hands on her hips. Ever since she was old enough to speak, Poppy had been telling Trevik what to do, despite their eleven-year age gap. He’d always said that he had two mothers instead of just the one.
“I’ll not let ye in there, Trevik,” she whispered with a firm shake of her head.
He looked over his shoulder down the corridor with impatience, ensuring Mother did not appear again. “I ’aven’t time for this, Popp. Stand aside.”
“Never.” She shook her head, then her eye caught onto his cheek. “What be that?”
He brought his fingers to his face in confusion. “What?”
