“Eh…’’ Weak platitudes rose to his mind, Time will tell, Don’t borrow trouble. “You’ll see.” He felt curiously loath to explain to her, on this bright morning, why his personal war on malices wasn’t the sole reason that he volunteered for more extra duty than any other patroller in Hickory Lake Camp. His record had been seventeen straight months in the field without returning there, though he’d had to switch patrols several times to do it.

“Must we leave today, too?” asked Fawn.

Dag came to himself with a start and wrapped his arm around her, snugging her to his hip. “No, in fact. It’s a two-day hard ride to Lumpton from here, but we’ve no need to ride hard. We can make an easy start tomorrow, take it in gentle stages.” Or even later, the seductive thought occurred.

“I was wondering if I ought to give my room back to the hotel. Since I’m not really a patroller and all.”

“What? No! That room is yours for as long as you want it, Spark!” Dag said indignantly.

“Um, well, that’s sort of the point, I thought.” She bit her lip, but her eyes, he realized, were sparkling. “I was wondering if I could sleep in with you? For…frugality.”

“Of course, frugality! Yes, that’s the thing. You are a thoughtful girl, Spark.”

She cast him a merry smirk. She flashed an entrancing dimple when she smirked, which made his heart melt like a block of butter left in the summer sun. She said, “I’ll go move my things.”

He followed, feeling as utterly scatter-witted as Mari had accused him of being. He could not, could not run up and down the streets of Glassforge, leaping and shouting to the blue sky and the entire population, She says I make her eyes happy!

He really wanted to, though.

They did not leave the next day, for it was raining. Nor the next either, for rain threatened then, too. On the following morning, Dag declared Fawn too sore from the previous night’s successfully concluded bed experiments to ride comfortably, although by midafternoon she was hopping around as happily as a flea and he was limping as the pulled muscle in his back seized up. Which provided the next day’s excuse for lingering, as well. He pictured the conversation with Fairbolt, Why are you late, Dag? Sorry, sir, I crippled myself making passionate love to a farmer girl. Yeah, that’d go over well.