“Morning,” Mara said casually, turning back to the table and picking up the fork. Her hand shook, and she rested it on the table to hide the tremor.

  “Morning.” Eli’s footsteps squeaked over the floorboards behind her as she approached, and the cool pressure of his silent rebuke broke around her like water around rock, aimed directly at Quint.

  The large man leaned back in his chair. “Morning, sunshine,” he said brightly, pushing the chair back as he stood. “Tea?”

  Eli took the seat beside Mara, the table just big enough around for four. “Sure.”

  “Honey?”

  “Please.” He turned out to ruffle Nick’s hair, eyes searching as they met Mara’s. “How are you feeling today?”

  She cleared her throat and took another bite of her eggs. “Good. Really good.”

  “You sleep okay?” Still, his eyes scanned her face, asking unspoken questions with one pass and gathering the answer on the next.

  Mara dropped her gaze to his chin. “Like a baby.”

  He turned his attention away from her, towards Nick, and Mara wasn’t fool enough to believe that was a coincidence. Her new surge of unease must be as palpable to him as his annoyance with Quint was to her. She listened with one ear as Eli engaged Nick in some ridiculous little conversation about the size of the brambleberries.

  “When do we leave?” she finally asked. She knew the answer, but only because she’d eavesdropped. It would tip him off if she didn’t ask.

  “The day after tomorrow,” Eli said, shifting Nick from her lap onto his when her son reached across the table in silent demand.

  “Can I know, now, how far it is from here to the Enclave?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Quint said, returning to the table with another mug of tea, setting it carefully in front of Eli. Was there deference there? Servility? Or just caring friendship? Mara swallowed and tried to steady her hand as she took another bite of eggs.

  “How does this work, then? Do you get to know?” she asked Eli.

  He shook his head, but Quint was the one who answered.

  “I’ll give you a compass and take your maps. The compass points the way to the Enclave.”

  “You’re taking our maps?” Her skin was prickly and flushed across her chest, cold down the back of her neck.

  “You won’t need them. The compass points the way. It’s meant to deter you from coming here claiming to seek asylum, mapping your route to the Enclave as you follow the compass, and then turning around at the last minute and taking its location to the Order. The compass points toward the path, not the settlement itself, if that makes sense. So without a map to chart your course, you’d have no real idea where you’d been, or how far you’d come. If you tried to find your way back, you’d get lost. From the Guide’s, you either turn back or you go all the way. And once you get to the Enclave, there’s a whole other system to ensure you don’t go running off to the enemy.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Seems a little intense,” Mara admitted around the lump of unease in her throat. How long would they be wandering the mountains with nothing but an enchanted compass to guide them?

  “It has to be,” Eli jumped in, bouncing Nick on his knee as her son giggled and clapped berry-stained hands. “The Order’s armed branch alone outnumbers the entire population of the Enclave ten to one. Secrecy is our best, maybe our only defense.”

  He didn’t sound like a man who intended to upset the whole system, did he?

  Quint leaned back in his chair. “The point is, I can’t do much except hand you the compass and escort you to where it starts working.”

  “You can’t even hint at how long it’ll take?”

  His lips twitched, beard bristles shifting with the motion. “We’ll be restocking your food stores for the journey. That should give you a good idea.”

  Mara sighed. She really would have liked just one concrete answer to one question. Just one sure thing in this mess of secrecy and mystery.

  Nick reached for her from Eli’s lap—he loved this game, demanding that they pass him back and forth between them—and she took him, setting him atop her legs. He leaned back against her chest, hair tickling her chin, and she reminded herself that there was one sure thing, at least. She had Nick, and Nick needed her. One straight, solid line in the tangled skein her life had become.

  “Well, I should be off,” Quint said, breaking what had become a palpably pensive silence. “You’re welcome to stay here and rest, or to explore the grounds. There’s about an acre of gardens behind the cabin, and another three of developed woodland beyond that. The wards extend beyond the fence line, so you can’t pass outside of them by accident.”

  What she’d seen of the gardens the night before had her straightening in her seat. “There’s another acre, in addition to what’s out front?” She could have kept herself busy all day with just the front yard.

  “Yes, ma’am. There’s not much to do down here, so the gardens get a lot of attention, no matter who rotates through.”

  “Can I harvest some things? Just little trimmings here and there?”

  “I don’t see why not. Just don’t take more than half of anything.”

  “No, of course not. Thank you!”

  Just the thought of wandering among the plants for a few hours calmed the frantic spinning of her mind. Enough so that she was able to finish her eggs and toast, and the tea, and the second mug of tea Quint poured her. She was practically vibrating in her seat by the time Quint made his way out the door.

  Mara, Eli, and to some effect Nick, cleaned up the small kitchen in relative silence. When Mara declared her desire to go explore the gardens, Eli followed her and Nick to the entryway.

  “Would you like company?” he asked, leaning against the wall as she sat to tug on her boots.

  Mara paused with one boot on and frowned up at him. “You don’t think it’s safe?”

  He shifted on his feet and took a few beats longer to respond than she expected. “It is.”

  “Then I’m fine. Really. You’ve been on bodyguard duty for months. Don’t you want to get some rest?”

  His attention dropped to Nick, who was struggling with his worn little boots. Crouching, Eli loosened the laces with practiced fingers before handing them back and watching as Nick wrestled them on. Once the boots were on, Nick grinned happily and stuck his feet out for Eli to tie the laces.

  The process had become a ritual over the past weeks, and Mara thought again of how important Eli had become to her son. Although this time, the thought occurred to her not in the context of her grief and Davy’s absence, but in the context of her own muddled loyalties.

  Nick was her heart–torn from her body and set out into the world–and Eli had gone and made himself vital to Nick’s happiness, central and essential in the functioning of his little universe. If Eli really was poised to stand against Davy’s parents, the rift would fracture her heart as surely as it would fracture the rebellion.

  “Boots are getting small,” Eli remarked, using his thumb to feel for Nick’s toes through the leather. With the shoes laced, he rose from his crouch and resumed his place against the wall.

  Mara cleared her throat and tugged on her remaining boot.

  “Would you like to come with us?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m happy to. Or I could watch Nick, if you’d like to have some time for yourself.”

  Mara stood and crossed her own arms over her aching chest. There was no reason to be stewing in all this uncertainty when Eli was right there, steady and ready as ever to offer himself as a solution to every problem she laid at his feet. She didn’t have to wonder. All she had to do was talk to him.

  “Come with us,” she said, before she could change her mind. “But grab one of those baskets from the kitchen first. And the shears. I think I saw some Hogstail under my bedroom window.”