Hæra put the cream on the table. Jonathan laid generous amounts of bacon and fried bread onto two plates.

Madeleine couldn’t forbear a quick glance at Hæra, who sat down with no plate before her, just a cup of tea. “Um, have you eaten?”

She and Hæra had shared a few meals now. Enough for Madeleine to know that an Each-uisge didn’t prefer cooked meat. It should have been disgusting, not fascinating, to watch Hæra dig into a raw sheep’s neck, but, well, there you were. At least Hæra used utensils.

Hæra gave her a long look. Then her lips twitched softly in a little smile, and she relaxed in her chair, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Haggis,” she said. “Only without the suet and oatmeal. Or the onions. Or the boiling.”

“So you had a plate of raw sheep’s liver, heart, and lungs,” Jonathan said dryly.

Hæra never took her eyes from Madeleine’s. “I’m a growing girl.”

If she wanted to fluster Madeleine, too bad. Hæra had already set her off-balance enough for one morning. Madeleine placed her napkin in her lap. “That should hold you for a while, then.”

Before Hæra could reply, she bowed her head, said a quick, silent blessing, and crossed herself. By now, after several meals at Jonathan’s house, neither Hæra nor Jonathan seemed awkward around Madeleine’s prayers. In fact, when Hæra reached for the salt, she said casually, “I tried blessing my breakfast today too.”

Madeleine almost dropped her fork before she could start on her bacon. “You did?”

“Yes. I said the same words you do, except I thanked the Great Stallion.”

Madeleine wasn’t used to this either: such casual references to a supernatural creature’s religion. But surprisingly, it was getting a bit easier. Hæra believed in things, and that was something they had in common.

Even if Hæra’s beliefs didn’t seem to dictate how she acted, which was something they didn’t have in common.

“What was it like to say a blessing?” Madeleine asked.

“I didn’t feel anything, but I’ve never thought a lot about the Stallion. Each-uisge don’t have as much to do with him. But he’s the one who made the land, and that’s where my food came from, so I had to thank him.” Hæra pursed her lips consideringly. “I suppose on the nights we have fish, I should thank the Great Mare. Maybe that would feel more meaningful.”

“How did the Great Stallion make the land?” Madeleine asked, curious to know what kind of mythology a mythological creature lived by.

“Shat it out,” Hæra said promptly. “And the Mare gave birth to the ocean.”

Jonathan groaned. “Over breakfast and all?”

Hæra shrugged and sprinkled salt into her tea. “She asked me.”

There was no denying that. Madeleine chuckled. “So I did.”