She vanished the clothes, since she had no other way to carry them, and had just walked out of the room when thunder shook the cottage. Her heart pounded as she rested a hand against the wall to steady herself. There had been no sign of a storm when she was outside a few minutes ago. Where had the—

A different kind of thunder.

A chill went through her. Her heart pounded harder.

The kind of thunder that happened when a witch revealed enough of her temper to be a warning to those around her.

Biting her lip, Marian gave herself a few seconds to gather her courage before going downstairs to the kitchen. Luthvian sat at the kitchen table, her gold eyes full of resentment and fear. Jaenelle stood in the doorway, not actually in the kitchen but also not waiting outside.

Marian hesitated. She should say something to Luthvian, but she didn’t know what it would be. She couldn’t thank Luthvian for the hospitality since she’d more than earned her keep while she’d stayed at the cottage—and hadn’t felt welcome in the first place. And she was afraid that no matter what she said right now, Luthvian’s response would be brutal and heart-shattering. So she looked away and walked to the outside kitchen door.

Jaenelle stepped back and to one side to let her pass. The door closed behind them with a gentleness that was worse than a bad-tempered slam.

“Can you walk a bit?” Jaenelle asked when they reached the gate in the low stone wall that surrounded Luthvian’s land.

Marian nodded.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Then Jaenelle said, “I’m sorry things were difficult for you. I thought—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. It was an error in judgment, and you paid the price for it.”

There were things Luthvian had hinted at, reasons why enduring work she knew was harming her was better than being told to leave. But now that she’d been taken from the cottage . . .

“I don’t want to go back to Terreille,” Marian said, the words bursting out of her.

“No one said you had to,” Jaenelle replied.

“But if I don’t serve Lady Luthvian—”

Jaenelle swore. Marian didn’t know the language, but she understand the vicious way the words were said.

“You don’t serve Luthvian,” Jaenelle said tightly. “You serve in my court.”

Marian stopped walking, too stunned to keep moving. “I—Your court?”

Jaenelle turned to face Marian. After studying the hearth witch, she said, “Eighth Circle. Don’t you remember signing the contract after I explained that you needed to serve in a court for eighteen months if you wanted to stay in Kaeleer?”