“How’s the internship?” His chair creaked as he shifted, but it didn’t groan as it did when he stood up.

“Fine so far. I’ll come back for a proper visit in a few days and tell you all about it. I don’t want to miss old Bertin tonight.”

There was a pause from the next room as Gwen held her breath. Somehow, the silence had an unnervingly knowing quality to it, as if her father had heard more than one set of footsteps creep into the house.

When he replied, however, all he said was, “Have a good time at the bonfire, Gwen.”

Gwen followed Isobelle up the steps and into the loft, pausing at the threshold to her room and listening intently for sounds from below, but all was quiet. She eased into her room and slid the makeshift door closed.

“You told him you have an internship at the castle?” Isobelle said softly, amusement in her tone.

“Well, what was I supposed to tell him?” Gwen replied tartly, going to the window to open her shutters and let in the light from the bonfire in the village square. “Hey, Dad, I’m using a mysteriously acquired amount of wealth to hire an apprentice from the next town over to help you while I prance around in armor, pretending to be a knight?”

Isobelle let out a soft laugh and drifted closer to the wall. It was covered in sketches Gwen had made—some more recent, detailing her plans for the armor she’d made, and others older, less designs and more imaginings.

Gwen had brought her here so they could change out of their fancy clothes and draw less attention from the villagers. She hadn’t considered that bringing Isobelle into this tiny corner Gwen called her own would allow the other girl to inspect each detail of her life with such naked curiosity. Covering her confusion, Gwen went to the chest at the foot of the bed and began rummaging through it.

“Here,” she said finally, pulling out an old charcoal-gray dress. “This will do. It’s a bit small on me anyway.”

Isobelle had obviously figured out why Gwen had brought her here, coming to the same conclusion that she probably shouldn’t waltz into Gwen’s village center wearing a multilayered dress of violet-blue silk. She startled when Gwen spoke—she’d been gazing rather intently at the wall of sketches, though Gwen couldn’t tell which one had captured her attention—and turned.

Gwen laid the charcoal dress on the bed and turned her gaze down again, the only privacy she could offer the other girl in her tiny, cramped room. She’d already located the dress she intended to change into herself, but she pretended to be searching for it as Isobelle turned away and began fiddling with the laces at her back.