Hæra’s bad dream was already nothing more than a dimly unpleasant memory. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I—” Madeleine yawned and covered her mouth. “Sorry. I do.”

“Don’t apologize.” Hæra had kept her from rest long enough. “Go back to sleep. Do I get another goodnight kiss, or is the custom only one?”

Madeleine’s lips twitched. A look of wonder appeared in her eyes. “I think you and I might have to make our own customs.”

“Then let’s begin now.”

Madeleine leaned in. Her kiss was softer than lambswool. If all nightmares ended like this, they might not be so bad.

But she didn’t mean to chance it. She’d stay on guard against sleep from now on.

There would be no second dream.

She left Madeleine before dawn with a soft kiss to her cheek. “I must work.”

“Okay,” Madeleine mumbled, and she went promptly back to sleep. Hæra chuckled and left.

It was nearly five in the morning, when the work of the farm began. A raw sheep’s liver awaited her at home, and after last night’s activities, Hæra was ravenous.

Sex had fed another sort of hunger. Sex with a human! Not so long ago, she couldn’t have imagined it. How ashamed her mother Beathag would be. Even her father, who had admired humans, couldn’t have countenanced it. As for Asgall, he’d be insufferable.

None of that mattered, Hæra thought, as she tromped across the muddy ground toward the farmhouse. Her biological family was gone. Her chosen family was here, for however long it could last. And she had work to do. If she hurried, she could finish the morning’s first tasks and return in time for breakfast with Madeleine and Jonathan.

Jonathan would be insufferable too, if he guessed what had happened between Hæra and Madeleine. Just in a different way. Oh, he’d be so pleased, with all his talk of love.

Hæra grinned up at the cloudy sky. He didn’t have to know yet. Madeleine would probably appreciate discretion. It could be a delicious secret. Hæra was tired of secrets that weighed her down, but this one was different. It made her want to laugh in delight.

Delight. Madeleine’s mouth beneath her own. Her fingers inside Madeleine’s softness, until Madeleine cried out in shocked pleasure. They’d do it again, too. That was delight, all right.

What was a nightmare compared to that? This was real.

As she approached the farmhouse, her lips pursed. A funny noise came from between them. She’d heard Jonathan and the farmhands making such a sound. A whistle. She was whistling. She never had before.

Better not. Jonathan would guess instantly, if he heard her whistling.