Mrs. Erickson said, “It’s very difficult to be unseen. It’s difficult to see what no one else can see—on bad days, it makes me feel a bit dotty.” Her smile, however, belied that. “And you’ve always been so pleasant, dear. I think I might have felt lonely and entirely irrelevant if not for meeting people like you.”

The young woman turned to Kaylin. “Please accept my apologies for my companion’s manners.”

“He can apologize himself if he cares. I don’t find his protectiveness or caution offensive—I said a lot worse in my childhood.”

“I am not a child,” the man snapped.

Kaylin offered a very Hawk-like nod in response, which didn’t seem to improve his mood any. She hadn’t intended the comment to be an insult, but could see why he’d take it that way—and frankly, she wasn’t overly concerned. What was he going to do? File a report?

Mrs. Erickson cleared her throat in that particular way that immediately reminded Kaylin of Caitlin in the Halls. To the man Kaylin said, “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I thought it would. I don’t think you’re a child; I only meant that I’ve done worse so I won’t take offense.”

He seemed to relax at what was, on the inside, a very grudging apology.

Kaylin understood why Mrs. Erickson felt self-conscious talking to ghosts in public, because Kaylin was drawing the kind of attention that usually caused people to give a person a very wide berth. Then again, some drew closer because of the familiar. On Elani street, the regulars had grown accustomed to Hope, and those that approached usually had money in hand in an attempt to buy him. They went away disappointed—or in one case, in high dudgeon because the young woman had offered so much money to a grubby Hawk, which had both angered Kaylin and slightly amused her.

Here, no one would likely have that kind of money to front; they might be thinking of stealing Hope. That wouldn’t work out well for them, and Kaylin had been told, in no uncertain terms, that even if the attempt was made it was Kaylin’s job to make certain they didn’t die after trying. She thought it unfair, but Marcus had made clear that petty theft wasn’t a capital offense. Kaylin privately thought that stupidity was—but she wasn’t in the fiefs, now; she was in Elantra.

The young man was staring at the familiar, youthful brow creased with lines that would melt away when his expression shifted. Almost against his will, he said, “What’s that?”

“His name is Hope, and I’ve been told he would have once been called a familiar.”

The young man blanched.

The young woman, however, frowned. “May I approach?” she asked, voice soft.