Isobelle was sure she whipped around far too fast, and sure enough, there was Gwen bearing down on them. Without thinking, she extended her hand, and Gwen simply took hold of it, curling her warm fingers around Isobelle’s as she reached her side.

“I see Delia found you,” she said, but with a warmth that suggested she was quite pleased to see the hedge witch. “I got away from Theo by pointing out that old Bertin is setting up over on his crate. It’s dragon bonfire night. I wanted Izzie to hear a real story. She’s only ever heard the nobility’s versions.”

Isobelle blinked. “Your stories are different from those told up at the castle?”

“Ours are true,” Delia replied. “Go, listen. Learn. I have my own business to attend to this evening.” She inclined her head again in one of those almost-bows, and Isobelle couldn’t help feeling that it was directed at her. “Gwen, it is good to see you are well. Izzie, I feel certain our paths will cross again.”

There was a great deal for Isobelle to consider as they walked away from the hedge witch, but one look at Gwen’s expression distracted her from her own issues. Though her tone had been easy enough, there was a hint of a line between her brows that Isobelle immediately wished to smooth away.

“Did he step on your toes?” she asked, giving Gwen’s hand a daring squeeze.

“Mmm?” Gwen glanced across at her, and then let out a slow breath. Isobelle tried to ignore the little leap her heart gave, realizing that squeeze had eased Gwen’s tense expression. “Not the way you mean, no. There’s nothing wrong with Theo.”

“Oh my. Nothing wrong with him? Now there’s some high praise.”

Gwen led her through the crowd before she replied, and found them a place together on a log that had been rolled up to the edge of the circle around the fire. Isobelle made a brief and fruitless attempt to dust the log off enough to keep her borrowed skirts clean, then conceded.

Once they were seated side by side, Gwen turned her head to speak quietly to Isobelle once more. “It’s true. There’s nothing wrong with Theo. He’s from a family a couple of villages over. His father’s the blacksmith in Nether Foxholm. His older brother will inherit the business.”

“Ah,” said Isobelle slowly, feeling many feelings at once. “And perhaps Theo will work for his brother. But perhaps he might also marry the daughter of a blacksmith who lacks a male heir.”

Gwen grimaced in reply. “He’s a nice boy. I think he’d be kind to me.”