“I think ‘charming’ is the word you’re looking for. And I’m the one who saved you from tumbling over a cliff, if I remember correctly.”

“You were inebriated, so your memory is probably a bit fuzzy.”

“If you say so.”

“Where is my father? And don’t say ‘safe’ again or I’ll be forced to murder you.” He gave her a hard stare. “I just want to talk to him, alright? I promise I’ll play nice. Or at least mostly nice.”

“He’s unconscious, last I checked.”

“He’s alone? What if he wakes up and escapes?”

“Your ol’ friend Dagr is looking after him.”

“The lion-man?” Bryony’s memory was still hazy, but she remembered her guide appearing at the most unexpected moment, saving her from the demon’s blast of fire.

“For some weird reason he’s decided to hang around for a while longer. I think he likes you. Which is also strange considering how unlikeable you can be.”

“I won’t comment on how much you sound like the pot in this situation. And I happen to pride myself on my unlikability. Keeps riffraff like you from getting too close to me.”

“Riffraff?”

She shrugged, lifting a hand to tease several locks of her unruly hair, pulling them across her vision. Which made her frown. “What the…”

“Ah, yes, there’s also that. While you were in Lostwood, your hair decided to give itself another gold streak.”

“How…?”

“The forest doesn’t seem to like you? Your fever persisted until we left its bounds.”

She chewed on this information for a while. She couldn’t deny the sensation that entered her very bones the moment she stepped foot in Lostwood. She hated that feeling, mostly for the way it made her weak and helpless. Was that why she’d had the visions of unburning fire on her skin while she was unconscious? And had the fires finally faded when they’d left Lostwood? “The feeling is rather mutual,” she muttered. “Where are we anyway?”

“Dunmire. Dagr arranged the whole thing which was no small wonder given we arrived in the dead of night.”

“The Horse’s Rump,” Bryony said, understanding dawning.

“I take it you know the place? I should’ve guessed considering the proprietor didn’t seem too thrilled when I hauled you inside.”

It certainly tracked. The room they were in was nondescript, with no furniture save the bed she was lying on and a lumpy mattress set against one wall. Everything seemed to be entombed in a fine layer of dust, and the bedclothes beneath her had several splotchy stains of undefinable colors that Bryony would rather not know the origins of. “I didn’t leave fast enough for his liking the last time. He was probably hoping he’d never see me again.”

“We both seem to have a habit of overstaying our welcome, don’t we?”

She managed a grim smile, but let it fall away just as swiftly.

A look of concern immediately flashed across Ludo’s face. “Are you alright? Does something hurt?”