“Not the kind of trouble you’re imagining,” she said, sliding into one of the two chairs at the small kitchen’s table. “My work for Arndel is well-prized. He knows he’ll suffer if he dismisses me.”

“Good,” Remmie said, turning to face her, and not even trying to hide his relief. “But still, since I’m neither blind nor doltish, I know something’s fretting you. What’s wrong?”

Chapter Two

He always knew. Even when she did her best to hide her feelings, even when any other person in the world would never suspect she was churned on the inside, where it didn’t show, Remmie could tell.

Sometimes it was irritating, having a twin.

Remmie was staring at her, his blue eyes alight now with a rueful, affectionate resignation. She looked away from him.

He sighed. “Barl…”

By rights she should be setting the table for supper. He liked to cook and she didn’t, so he cooked and she set the table and helped clean up after. But instead of doing her part she sat where she was, thoughts tumbling like leaves in an autumn bluster.

Abandoning the sink, leaving his stew to simmer fragrantly on the hob, her brother crossed to the table and slid into its other chair.

“Come on, Barl. You know I’ll have the problem out of you in the end.”

She shrugged, one-shouldered. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not. It never is,” he said kindly. He was so patient, little wonder he made a good schoolteacher. “Is it Arndel again? Has he done or said something to tweak your nose?”

“I’d like to tweak his nose,” she muttered. “His and Lord Traint’s.”

Remmie laughed, but there was a groan inside it. “Why? What have they done now?”

Since she’d get no peace until she answered, she told him how she’d been tasked to create Traint’s tedious journey clock. Her brother listened carefully, like always, no interruptions, and when she’d finished her tale of woe he sat back in his chair, his arms folded and his chin sunk to his chest.

“Well, you know what they say, Barl. He who pays the piper calls the tune.”

“Perhaps they do, but I don’t need you to say it. I need you to say I’m right and that old snicket Arndel is wrong!”

“Oh, Barl.” Remmie’s fingers tightened. “What difference would that make? For better or worse, Arndel pays your wage which means you’re beholden to his wishes. I know you don’t want to be, but that’s the way it is.”

What a pity she hadn’t laid the table. If she had, she could throw a spoon at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“And so I am! You know I am. Always. I don’t mean to nag or sound unsympathetic. I just hate to see you fretted.”

“You’d be fretted too, if you’d been forced to make such a clodhopping clock.” She blinked hard against a sudden sting of tears. “I wish you could’ve seen the one I made after. Remmie, it was beautiful.”