May 28th, 1929

Nicoletta was napping on the too-soft bed in her sterile room when a knock rattled the door, startling her clear up onto her feet. 

Corporal Moore’s voice came next: “Up and at ‘em, doll. Get your stuff and get moving.”

Nicoletta stared at her closed door blankly for a moment, as if she could see through it to his stupid mug and glean any kind of understanding of what was happening. 

Nothing sprang to mind. 

Nicoletta stuffed her feet into her blocky army-issue shoes and made sure her dress was settled before opening the door. Moore stood in the hall, holding an empty file box. Upon seeing her, he shoved it into her arms. The edge dug into her flesh elbow while the runes in the wood and leather one stirred.  “Pack up. You’re moving.” 

Nicoletta had opened her mouth to ask what, precisely, was happening. At that she closed it and narrowed her eyes at Moore suspiciously. “Why? Where?” One of her early handlers had told her stories about isolation cells where they held soldiers who went AWOL or refused to follow orders. She was fairly sure he’d been putting her on, but it had lingered in her mind anyway.

“Do I look like an information desk? Get your stuff or we’re leaving it here. You got two minutes.”

Nicoletta stood for another second, ire rising. But Moore had been one of her guards for so long that she’d learned he’d do exactly as he said. She whipped around and shoved the box on top of the child-sized desk she’d been given—the only storage in the room—and yanked open a drawer with her good hand, not trusting the fake one to grasp the knobs. Into the box went her underthings, then the dresses they’d given her and the scarves and cloth sashes she’d made from some of them. 

Her toiletries were in the bathroom: toothbrush, tooth powder, and soap. She hesitated at her towel and washrag, then tossed those in, too. 

“Forty-five seconds,” Moore called.

Nicoletta glared as she stepped back into the room. She scooped up the novel she’d gotten after enough haranguing on her part, which held a several-months-old picture of Vano reading a paper and looking thin but alive, then she grabbed the day-old newspaper her night guard had left for her and the stub of pencil she used to fill out the crossword. 

Moore was just about to call out again—she saw his deep inhalation—when she hefted the box and demanded, “Now will you tell me where you’re moving me to?”

He led the way out, locking the door behind her when she followed him. “You’ve somehow earned an apartment.” There was just a hint of disgust in the lift of his mouth. 

That silenced Nicoletta. There had to be some mix up. Numbers had been swapped and soon they’d be moving her back. Or perhaps they were buttering her up for something unpleasant. 

No, she thought a paperwork error was more likely. 

Still mulling it over, she carried her overflowing box to an automobile waiting outside. Moore actually gave her a hand in, since stepping up into the vehicle was almost impossible with her burden. 

Clouds had rolled in, white fluffy things that obscured the sun just enough to throw daylight briefly into shadow. The engine barked to life and the auto jerked forward. 

Nicoletta studied the grounds they passed; buildings in orderly rows, training arenas where the grass had been flattened. The buildings and tents squatted between low hills or perched on the tops, the army base springing up like a fungus. There was a farmhouse in the distance, and a giant barn. She wondered if they’d been commandeered or if people still lived there. 

They must have been at the edge of the encampment, on the side away from town; there were actual little row houses with empty planter boxes outside the windows, and the road was pressed gravel instead of asphalt. 

They continued on, passing a few large homes surrounded by gardens that might once have been manicured, but now the bushes were overgrown and the borders supported by army issue fencing. She looked sharply at Moore when they pulled into one, through a rusted open gate. She was still studying him, searching for the joke as they wound up a drive and parked in front of a cracked porch. 

“Welcome to home sweet home,” Moore said with a twist to his mouth and a shake of his head, as if he thought the place was lost on her.

Nicoletta climbed out without help, clutching her box of things and feeling completely unmoored. “What is this?”

“It’s a house, doll.” He was walking toward the porch, a wide sweeping affair that wrapped around the sides. Nicoletta hurried to catch up with him. Instead of heading for the front he veered to the right and around the corner, where she saw a door had been put in the outside wall. Moore pulled out a single key and unlocked the door, opening it with a jiggle and gesturing her in.

Nicoletta entered cautiously. A wall had clearly been added, separating the front and back of the house. But there were big windows that gave her a view of the hills and the sky, and let in sunlight. They were barred from the outside, but they were there. Curtains draped the edges of the windowsills.

There was a rug over the wood floors. Two comfortable-looking chairs made up a little seating area, complete with a delicate side table. A half-wall showed a small kitchen table with two more spindly chairs, and beyond that the sort of hot plate and sink setup you’d find in any efficiency apartment. There were cupboards.

She peeked around another door to see a small bedroom, possibly smaller than the one she’d just left, but with another rug under a bed made up with a soft-looking blanket and a fluffy pillow. There was even a wardrobe. She set her box down on the mattress and opened the wardrobe to discover that half of it would accommodate hung dresses and the other half was drawers, and the half to hang dresses had two new summer frocks. 

The apartment had to be the back quarter of the bottom level of the house, she thought, admiring the way the wall went from papered to wood partway down. There were no windows in this inner room, but light shone from a standing lamp near the bed. When she stepped back into the main room with its little kitchen she saw that Moore had opened two of the windows to let a breeze through. The bars wouldn’t stop the wind. 

A final door off the kitchen opened into a small but usable bathroom, already hung with actual hand towels and stocked with necessities. There was even another small cupboard and a hand mirror on a hook.

“I don’t understand,” she said cautiously, walking into the main room again. 

“That makes two of us,” Moore answered dryly. “I don’t think I need to tell you what’s likely to happen if you try to escape, or do something foolhardy like break the glass and attack anyone with it.”

Nicoletta tightened her jaw, jerking her head back and forth. No, he didn’t need to remind her.

“That’s good.” Moore was standing by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Several of the shelves had actual books, and one held a photo in a frame. Moore picked it up and carried it over, offering it to her. 

Warily, Nicoletta took it, watching Moore for any sign of a trick. When there was none, she finally looked down at what she held.

A young man sat in a wheelchair, the sky stretching endlessly behind him, a charming smile on his face as he laughed with a hospital candy striper, her hand resting on one of the handles. 

His eyes were, as the entire photograph was, in shades of gray. But Nicoletta thought she could still see the sunset color of Vano’s irises, splashed with gold and green. He looked better than he had months before, though he still wasn’t the robust picture of health he’d been. But there was life in his smile and an ease in the way he sat. 

Nicoletta ran her fingertips over the glass, anger and love and fear all swirling until she didn’t know exactly how she felt. 

“I’ll be just outside,” Moore said, a warning. She heard the door lock behind him, and noted that there was no way to unlock it without a key. 

Then she sat slowly in one of the comfortable sitting chairs, the framed photograph of Vano still in her trembling hand.

**

The view out the window would never get old. Not that there was much to see, but the green hill that rose slowly to block anything behind it was dotted with trees, and the trees were filled with animal life. Nicoletta had pulled one of the comfortable chairs around so she could sit and watch. It was a vast improvement over staring at the blank walls in the room she’d had before. 

She sipped her tea—another discovery, that there were a few sundries in the cupboards—and watched two crows squabble over a treasure one of them had found. 

The lock in her front door tumbled, catching her attention. She waited, expecting a guard to open it and give her some sort of orders. She never knew what Dunfre might want from her until it was demanded. 

But the door didn’t open. Eventually Nicoletta stood, walking closer warily. She pulled a heavy curtain aside and peered out, able to see her guard sitting in one of her kitchen chairs beside the door, but not able to see much beyond him. She dropped the curtain and considered the situation. 

Was it some sort of trick? Did they think she was foolish enough to try and escape if they unlocked the door? Her suppositions might have gotten wilder, but then she heard voices outside. She yanked the curtain back again and saw Fex approaching. Her mouth curled in a bitter smile. They just didn’t want him to think she was locked in. 

She couldn’t quite make out what Fex and her guard were saying, just the rise and fall of their voices, but then Fex faced the door and gave a quick, light rap. Nicoletta scooted into motion, putting her hand on the knob. 

It was silly, but for a moment she was afraid to turn it, as if it might still be locked. Then she gave herself a mental shake and opened the door. 

His smile was the first thing Nicoletta noticed. Then she saw the butter-colored linen suit he wore with a buttoned waistcoat, the color seeming even brighter against his brown skin. His shoes were clean and his hat sat at a rakish angle, black band tying in with the almost-invisible pinstripe in his suit. He could have stepped right off of a fashion plate, or right out of a big city. 

Nicoletta felt scruffy in comparison; her dress was slightly too big and the hem was a little ragged. She’d torn it as straight as she could, and had tried to keep any threads from hanging off. At least it was a more fashionable length than it had been. 

Of course, she didn’t think she owned anything that could compare to Fex’s finery, even if she’d had access to all her clothes. Her things were good enough for the town fair, and she didn’t need anything fancier than that. The fish didn’t care what she wore, and the gators minded even less.

Fex’s clothes didn’t really matter, though. What mattered was that she had an actual guest. “Fex,” she said, glancing at the guard to see if he blinked at her familiarity. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Please, come in.” 

His smile bloomed into a full grin. “Found you at last!” He stepped inside, removing his hat as he did so and, after a quick look around, hung it on the coat rack near the door. He glanced around again as Nicoletta closed the door behind him, and she followed his gaze across the little room. Her bedroom door, thankfully, was closed. 

“This is cozy,” Fex said. “I guess I should have brought you some flowers, though.”

“I wouldn’t have a place to put them,” Nicoletta said, but she did wonder what was in the bag he carried. As something outside scraped, she tipped her head and saw Fex do the same. The guard had sat back down. “May I get you some tea?” she offered. “If you’ll bring that chair over here, we can sit.” It would also put her in the window and visible to the guard. That didn’t really improve the propriety of having a man in her apartment without a chaperone, but she wasn’t going to insist Fex talk to her across the threshold after he’d come all this way.

“Tea would be lovely,” he said, and she headed toward the kitchen and the kettle. “I brought you some sweets to go with it.” 

She glanced back, surprised and momentarily dubious. Fex had set the bag down by the wingback in the sitting area, and was moving the other one into a conversational position. It would be silly to lie about sweets. She hesitantly let herself feel pleased.

“Too bad we can’t sit outside and enjoy the evening sun,” Fex continued, “but I don’t really fancy including Private Whoosit in the conversation.” He gave the front door—and the guard beyond it—a sour look.

Nicoletta turned the heat up on the hot plate, bringing the kettle back to a boil while she prepared a cup. “At least he’s out there instead of in here,” she said, giving the door a look almost identical to the one Fex had used. The kettle started to whistle and she used her wooden hand to pour it over the tea leaves in the pot. She set the kettle down carefully to take the pot in her prosthetic and the cup and saucer in her good hand and brought it over to where Fex waited. She set them down on the table, retrieving her cup as well before sitting. “Welcome in. You’re my first guest.” She smiled.

“First guest?” He smiled back, full of empathy. She didn’t mention that he was the first person she’d entertained at home since moving out of her parents’ house. “Come to think of it,” he said, “I haven’t had any guests at my place here, either. Although,” he mimed covering his ears and looked none too subtly at the door, “at least I don’t have a doorman with a sidearm keeping folks away.”

Nicoletta smirked and stood up, knowing he’d hidden their conversation with an illusion, but wanting to check regardless. “Well, clearly you need to work a little harder, then.” She twitched the curtain aside, glanced once at Fex to make sure he wasn’t gesturing her to silence, and then tapped on the glass.

The guard didn’t so much as twitch. She knocked a little harder, just to be sure, then went back to the sitting area. “It is nice to know I have a little privacy.”

“I wish I could set you up with a lasting ward, but they might get suspicious if they never heard a sound from you. The one I’m currently holding gives the impression of indistinct conversation between the two of us, but all I could leave you with is one for blank silence.” He sounded apologetic, but Nicoletta studied him carefully. 

“You can leave an illusion working even after you walk away from it?” she asked, just to clarify. 

“I can—” he broke off, visibly searching for a word. After a moment he continued, “enchant an object to hold an illusion for a time. It would only last a day or so, though, and I can’t make one that’s dynamic. If I marked that teapot, for example, I could set a silence charm on it, and it would make the area inside a certain radius around it unhearable. Is that a word? It’s the same thing I’m doing now, in a way, but without the conversation illusion on top of it, and attached to the object instead of to me.”

Nicoletta tugged on a lock of hair, trying to run through the possibilities. That sounded like something that could come in very useful; she just had to figure out how. She was still thinking when Fex bent to pull things from the bag he’d brought. Watching him drew her back to the moment, but she tucked away her new knowledge to consider later. 

He’d already set two chocolate bars with almonds on the table, and now he added Jujubes, a magazine, and a book on top of that. She hoped it wasn’t all for her, because that was entirely too much. Then he pulled out an oblong gift, wrapped with lilac-printed paper, his expression making it clear that this was for her. He offered it, saying, “I’ve learned some things we should talk about, but first chocolate. And an apology. I’m sorry if I made things more difficult for you with Mahoney or the others.”

Nicoletta looked at the proffered gift hesitantly, then the pile of goods taking up much of the little table. She shook her head, smiling politely because what she truly wanted to do was take the package and open it to see what was inside. “I couldn’t. There was no trouble, and I’m already a curiosity to most people, so nothing really changed.” Except now she was a curiosity and the center of gossip, but it would fade. Surely men didn’t gossip like women did. 

“You can,” he countered. “I promise there’s no Keshalyi obligation on the gift.” He nudged the box towards her. She glanced at everything else again, and this time he followed her gaze. “Oh,” he said, as if guessing at her thoughts, “and the book and magazine are the ones I picked up to give to Vano for you. The sweets are, well… I have a sweet tooth, and Vano really has a sweet tooth, and I was still hungry when I went to the shops. He’ll never even know if you and I share a little of the chocolate or Jujubes before I bring him the rest.”

Propriety warred with desire and curiosity, but the mention of Vano’s undeniable sweet tooth had made her muffle a giggle, lightening her mood. She caught the gift up, then paused to look at Fex searchingly, bundle clasped against her stomach, and said, “In case there are any intentions here, I just want to say that I’m determined to be an old maid, Fex.” Oh, she hoped he already knew that. She didn’t want to have to give back the package, now that it was in her hands. 

“What? Oh. Oh no, no, nothing like that.” He shook his head, laughing. “I suppose it could seem like that. But, no. I… No disrespect,” he added quickly, still with a grin on his face. “None at all, Nicoletta, but my heart beats in a different direction.”

She didn’t need any more reassurance than that. Nicoletta carefully pulled the string undone, and it fell away. She unfolded the lovely paper, revealing the expected box, and opened that to find a hairbrush cradled in tissue. The handle was fine grained wood, with cheerful daisies painted on the back. She laughed and picked it up, tickled. It would certainly be easier to tame her locks with a brush than her rather pathetic attempts at finger combing it before, usually, sweeping it back off her face with a cloth to keep it in place. 

“Thank you, Fex,” she said, and then couldn’t help but add teasingly, “Are you trying to hint at something?”

“Oh, no, no! I would never.” Fex shook his head, but then added, “I just wanted to get you something you might like. The shop lady tried to sell me perfume, which I was fairly sure you’d hate.” Nicoletta chuckled, because that was an understatement. “And, well, I had noticed you being unhappy with your hair when we come in from training and you’re back in your human form.”

She felt her face warm and dropped her gaze to the brush. “Yes, well, running through bushes isn’t conducive to a girl’s hair.” When she was sure she wasn’t blushing, she tucked the gift back into its box and set it on one of the bookshelves, where she could retrieve it later. “You said you had news you felt you should share?”

He frowned and took a sip of his tea. It didn’t seem to soothe him at all, and he inhaled bracingly before setting down his saucer and cup. Then he looked at her, all unhappy sincerity. “One of the scientists who overheard the situation in the canteen was outraged at the way Mahoney spoke to you, and said I should report it to Mahoney’s CO,” Fex began. “Of course he thought you were an ordinary human and so was I. But he was right. I stewed over it, but in the end I decided to go to Dunfre. And she…” His eyebrows wrinkled in disappointment and he gave a heavy sigh. “She said you had a delicate mental state, and were so dangerous that they had you shackled with that collar and guard to protect others around you.” 

Nicoletta stiffened. Was that what Dunfre was claiming? Did Dunfre believe it?

Of course, it had been somewhat true before they’d started using Vano as leverage. Her mental state hadn’t been delicate so much as rageful, and she’d certainly been lethal.

“And,” Fex hurried to reassure Nicoletta, “I know she’s wrong and that’s a lie. Not that you couldn’t be very dangerous if you chose to, but you are as sane as I am.”  The words were certain. Then he faltered, chewing on his lower lip before asking, “What do they have over you? Why are you here?”

Nicoletta looked at him, expression carefully neutral. To trust him or not? She didn’t know him very well, and yet… She’d had no indication that he’d tried to trick her or turn her in. He’d promised to take her letter to Vano, and even gotten the poster for her to write on. Nicoletta scratched at the gold line around the rim of her cup with a chewed down thumbnail. If anyone found out she’d said anything but glowing praise about the organization, though, Vano would pay for it.

It still came down to trust. Did she trust him, or didn’t she? 

She had to trust someone. She sat back in her chair, crossing her ankles. “Vano,” she told her teacup, then met Fex’s gaze and stilled her fingers. “They’re holding Vano over me.” 

“Ah. Yes. That makes sense,” he said. His eyes drifted to a middle distance, more like he was talking to himself than her. “He’s their hostage as much as their patient. His life is in their hands. But that still doesn’t…” He re-focused on Nicoletta as she started to shake her head, realizing he didn’t quite understand. He spoke before she could. “You were in a car accident and that’s how you lost your arm and why Vano is in the hospital.” He looked a little confused. “But that was months ago…” Fex frowned in thought. “He’s certainly ill, anyone can see that. Recovery could take this long, especially if he was catastrophically injured and they performed surgery to save him…” Something clicked in his mind; she could see the moment it happened in the sudden tension in his jawline and the way his almost-violet eyes focused in on her. Anger was in the lines of his shoulders. Even keeping a tight leash on his fury, she’d learned to see it. “Did they tell you they’d let him die if you didn’t agree to wear that thing and work for them?”

Nicoletta stood, disappointed that he hadn’t guessed the whole of it, even though she knew that wasn’t fair. She fingered the slim chain around her neck and the deceptively small padlock that kept her from shifting at will as she paced to the window. A tug on the curtain told her the guard was still sitting there, absorbed in his magazine. She tapped once, idly, and was unsurprised when he didn’t budge. “Not quite,” she said, bitter not at him but at her situation. “After the accident I woke up here. They’d already whisked Vano away somewhere else. Or had whisked me away—I don’t know. At first they appealed to my patriotism. Then they told me I had to work off our bills. The accident nearly killed him, and…” She trailed off, rubbing the arm where they’d attached their experimental prosthetic. The runes whirred and shifted under her palm. When she’d finally woken for good, it had been without an arm.

She brought herself firmly back to the moment, walking back to her chair. Fex had stood when she had, and now sat when she did, the picture of good manners. She said to him, “When that didn’t work, they told me that if I didn’t—” the words stopped in her throat. Gooseflesh rose on her arm. They’d also told her that if she spoke of it to anyone, things would go badly for Vano. 

Could she take the chance?

She stared at her tea, wishing the leaves would give her an answer.

No. She couldn’t take the chance. It wasn’t worth Vano’s life. “They told me if I didn’t help them, they’d stop Vano’s treatment,” she lied. 

Fex had been listening intently, but at that he let loose a string of angry words in a language unlike anything she’d ever heard. She thought he wanted to jump up and expend some energy, but was too well-mannered to do so. 

He started to say something, then cut himself off with a furious, low noise; almost a growl, as close to it as a Fey could probably get. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. His eyes pinched closed and it was a moment before he opened them again. “I knew they were coercing me with their supposed portal and an implied threat that none of my family would be able to use it unless I worked for them. I knew there was something unsavory about that neck chain and the way they treat you.” 

Nicoletta felt the little lock sitting in the dip of her collarbones. 

“But I didn’t know… I didn’t even suspect…” He spoke another of those angry, strange words, and then said, “I apologize for swearing.”

Nicoletta waved it off. 

Fex blinked slowly, becoming somehow more contained.  “What can I do?” he asked. “What can we do? They aren’t restricting me from seeing Vano or you, since they let me in tonight. Why don’t you come with me the next time I visit him?”

Was it that simple? Would they let her? No, of course not. And how would she explain that to Fex, if he asked? Lord, she didn’t want them hurting her brother because she broke the rules. She’d bent them enough already—she couldn’t tell Fex any more. Not until she thought through all the implications. “Maybe,” she hedged. “It would depend on when you went, and what I was supposed to be doing at that time.”

“I’m seeing him on Sunday. Surely they give you Sundays off.”

She squirmed. She wasn’t a good actress. Without looking at Fex, she stuttered, “It’s—I don’t know. It’s complicated, Fex.” She glanced at him, hoping he’d stop pressing. 

The look he gave her was sympathetic and genuinely perplexed. “What am I missing? I don’t see how it’s complicated.”

Her heart thundered in her ears. “It just is,” she snapped, standing with her teacup and taking it back to the kitchen, only to realize it was still half full. She set it on the counter with a clatter. With a deep breath to settle herself, she went back into the room where Fex stood, having come to his feet. Nicoletta twisted her fingers together, flesh and wood. “It just is, Fex.” 

He nodded at her, shelving the topic. “All right. It just is. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m sorry.” He seemed sincere enough. Nicoletta nodded in return, still not meeting his gaze, and sat back down. Fex followed suit. 

“I can visit him more frequently,” Fex offered. “I’m important to them—they won’t catch another of my folk unaware as they did me, I’ve made sure of that—so maybe if they realize Vano is important to me, they won’t be so inclined to stop his treatment.”

Nicoletta winced and shook her head. “I don’t know. I think, for now, I just need to keep working for them, little as they trust me, and I them.”

“Then…” Fex looked pained and sympathetic all at once. “Then we need to make Vano useful to them in his own right. He’s laid up, but not so much that he can only lie in bed. What’s he good at? Besides flirting.”

Nicoletta looked at him dubiously. “Vano? He’s…” she trailed off, trying to think of something worthwhile. He was her brother. Mostly she remembered all the foolish stunts he’d pulled over the years, and how he’d never gotten in as much trouble as he ought to. 

“He’s good at getting into trouble,” she offered apologetically. “And talking his way out of it,” she added with a wince. Nicoletta chewed on her lip, then said, wondering how it could possibly help, “He was always good at bringing people into shows at the carnivals. I’m sure he’ll take to the Romani life once he can prove to our parents he’s grown up a little. He’s an entertainer, though.” She screwed up her face, loathe to admit this even to Fex. “A little bit of a confidence man.” She willed an apology at Fex for ever suggesting he go put himself in Vano’s hands, while also willing Fex to understand that Vano didn’t mean anything by it. “Not that he’s malicious or immoral…” Nicoletta trailed off there. Maybe he was a little immoral. At times. 

“Bringing people in, flirting, entertaining,” Fex ticked each point off with a gesture, “all part of the same hand. So is being a bit of a scoundrel. And you did warn me he’d try to cheat at cards, so don’t worry, you aren’t giving me a bad impression after the fact.” He splayed his fingers across his mouth, thinking. “But what would the army do with that? Make him a spy, probably, but he can’t spy if he’s too sick to leave the hospital. So they make us spies…” His voice had dropped to a mutter as he tried to work it out to himself. Nicoletta had already spent hours twisting her brain into knots, and she knew the look. 

Fex glanced up at her, coming back from wherever he’d gone. “Nicoletta, I’m sorry. I’m just drawing a blank.”

Nicoletta nodded, still peering at the soldier through the part in the curtain, who showed no signs of awareness. “So I keep working for them,” she said, accepting the square of chocolate that Fex held out to her. She sighed as it started melting in her mouth. “Thank you,” she said softly.

After a just as quiet, “You’re welcome,” Fex continued. “After you left the canteen, I met a man—the scientist I told you about. I don’t know exactly what he’s working on, but it’s something secret and on-base, and he offered to give me a tour of his lab. I think I’ll take him up on it. Maybe find something out we can use. And until then, I’ll just keep visiting Vano. And now you, now that I know where you live. Or would that be too forward?” 

Nicoletta shook her head, swallowing hastily so she could talk. “Not at all. I appreciate the company.” She looked at the rest of the chocolate square in her hand and admitted, “I’m used to rather a lot more of it. Big family.” She gave Fex a little smile. “Good conversation is always welcome.” She looked pointedly toward her guard. “And any conversation is better than theirs.”

Fex laughed as she meant him to, and the tension in the room cracked a little. Nicoletta broke off another piece of chocolate and even relaxed back in her chair as they moved to safer things: her family and Fex’s time overseas. 

It wasn’t too much later, after Fex had left, that she found herself returned to her chair by the window, a fresh cup of tea at hand, her hair pulled over one shoulder. 

She had his brush in her grip and was coming to the conclusion that it might take her the rest of the night to get the tangles out of her curly hair. At least she had something to do. Who would have thought she’d find someone friendly and trustworthy after being captured and having her brother held hostage? She hadn’t. 

For the first time in a while, she felt the tangles were coming undone.