He still couldn’t believe he’d missed one of the trail markers yesterday, taking him miles in the wrong direction. By the time he’d realized his mistake, it was twilight, and while he didn’t believe in fables and folktales like his father, he also wasn’t foolish enough to try to navigate a rocky trail in the dark. With his luck, he’d twist his ankle and be stranded until another passerby happened upon him. Which, considering he hadn’t seen anyone yesterday, could have been ages.

“Come eat!” Story called up the ladder. “The soup’s getting cold.”

Jaren pulled a clean shirt over his head and climbed down. He mumbled an apology, but the rest of the family was already dipping chunks of bread into their soup.

“Tell us,” Stepan said, curiosity replacing his concern now that Jaren was home. “Did you see anything of interest in your wanderings? You must truly have gotten yourself lost this time.”

“I found a beautiful lake,” Jaren replied. “By the time I settled down for the night it was too dark to see anything. But this morning, I was amazed at how perfectly clear it was. I’ve never seen that color blue before.”

Stepan raised his head from his bowl, leveling Jaren with a stern gaze. “What was the lake called?”

Jaren shook his head and fumbled a scalding piece of potato around in his mouth. “I have no idea. It wasn’t marked.”

“Closest town, then?”

“I was lost, Father. I honestly couldn’t tell you if I was still in this kingdom.”

Stepan’s expression remained stony. “You didn’t drink from the lake, did you?”

Jaren shook his head. “No, I filled my waterskin in a stream. Why? Do you know something about this lake?”

Stepan glanced at his daughters. “Klaus told me there is a lake in these parts, one that looks pristine but is actually full of poison.”

Jaren laughed, but his twin sister touched his hand. “I’ve heard of it, too. From the townspeople.”

Jaren was certain this was just another bit of local superstition. They had moved to the small village of Bricklebury a little over a month ago, after their mother died and Klaus, an old friend, invited them to rent his house for a good price. Jaren knew his father was too haunted by memories of Sylvie to stay in their old home, and Bricklebury was a perfectly nice town. But Jaren had never seen such a gullible, gossipy group of people in his life.