It wasn’t so different from the bedroom they’d occupied at his aunt’s house. It had the same wooden floor, plain furniture, and whitewashed walls. The bed was covered by an immaculate white counterpane, a crucifix hanging on the wall above, a faded rag rug ready to warm chilly feet; next to the bed, in lieu of a nightstand, was a simple stool. On the far wall was a wooden peg rack hung with Nico’s shirts and trousers, and there was a dresser, too, its top covered by a stack of books and a leather case left open to reveal a man’s shaving things. In front of the window was a wooden chair, angled to allow its occupant a view of the bottle-green slopes of the mountains.

Nico set down their bags and crossed the room to open the window and close the shutters. “There. Now it’s dark enough to sleep.”

He hung up his coat, shrugged off his braces, and sat on the bed to unlace his boots. Pulling back the counterpane, he folded it neatly at the end of the bed, and did the same again for the blankets and top sheet. Then he lay down and patted the narrow space next to him.

“Take off your coat and shoes and lie down. You’re safe next to me—you know that. Although”—and here he grinned—“your ears may protest. My brothers tell me I snore.”

It was silly to protest, and she certainly didn’t want to see him sleeping on the floor again. So she did as he suggested and lay down on her side, but the bed was so narrow it was impossible to maintain any distance, and his body was so distractingly warm against her back that she wasn’t certain she’d be able to sleep. Yet the rhythm of his steady breaths was comforting, and the room was pleasantly dim and quiet, and she resolved to simply close her eyes for a moment. Only for a minute or two, and then she’d sit by the window and let herself think of home and her parents.

When she woke, the room had grown so dark she could scarcely see, and she was cold despite the blanket that Nico, rising, must have draped over her. She listened, tuning her ears to the unfamiliar sounds of her new home: children’s voices, the far-off lowing of oxen, the tinny sound of a radio, the clang of pots and pans.

Sitting up, she put on her shoes and, as there was no mirror, she smoothed down her hair, straightened her clothes, and ventured back to the kitchen.