Ingrid broke the spell between them. “While I’m glad these two are more-or-less whole, we still have damage to deal with. We’re going to need supplies, and soon. Who do we send to town? And how do we pay for the goods we’re going to need?”

Sarah stood. “Questions for tomorrow, not tonight, and for the village council, not a couple of exhausted newlyweds.”

She looked at Matthew. “You’ll need to help Cadan dress, don’t disturb the bandage on his shoulder.”

Ingrid frowned. “Can’t his wife help him?”

Sarah replied. “His wife needs her hands checked and probably bandaged for the night.”

She moved away from the tub and began applying her tweezers to Eleanor’s palms. There weren’t many splinters, but removal stung. Sarah applied the cleaning paste like a poultice. “Leave them bandaged till morning and that should draw out anything I didn’t get.”

She looked between Eleanor and the now-dressed Cadan. “Right, now bed for both of you.”

Eleanor bit her lip. “Could we have some bread or something first?”

Sarah glared at Matthew. “You didn’t feed them?”

He looked guilty. “I forgot to take anything with me.”

She shook her head and motioned towards the door. “Home then, I’ll braid Eleanor’s hair for sleep while they eat. Evan, thank you for keeping the water hot, Matthew will stay to help you set things ready for the morning.”

They followed Ingrid and Tilly out of the bath house and down the path to Central Clearing. Tilly gave Eleanor another hug before they parted ways. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

The bread and stew tasted even better than it had that first night, when Eleanor had been so new and lost. Sarah tutted and muttered as she wove Eleanor’s hair into a single long plait, it sounded like Matthew would be getting quite a talking-to later.

Cadan looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t see why Evan Smith was so huffy, anyone can see you’re the prettiest girl in the village, hair loose or braided.”

Sarah chuckled and said to Eleanor. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

***

Cadan needed help getting ready for bed but was already moving far more easily than he had in the bath house. They lay together in the dark, aware of each other, and their own bruises and hurts, sleep elusive.

He murmured. “You’ve still never told me why you hate being called ‘Ellie’.”

Eleanor sighed. “When I started school in Gandry, none of the others had met me before, and when they discovered I lived on the docks, I became ‘Smelly Ellie’. They would giggle and shriek and hold their noses against the ‘fishy river stink’ any time I came near. It only stopped when Cecily Silversmith’s mother found out what my father’s name was and ordered her to be nice to me.”

Cadan shuffled closer; he was lying on his stomach instead of curled on his side as he usually did. He draped an arm across her stomach and said. “I think you smell nice.”

Eleanor smiled and shifted closer in turn. “Papa said they were just jealous because I already knew more about reading and writing than any of them.”

She sighed. “But all that lot ever cared about was his wealth and influence.”

His words were slurred with sleep. “They’re stupid. I’m not.”

She peered through the dark but couldn’t see his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her only answer was soft, even breathing. She rested her hand on his arm and followed him into dreamless rest.

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