Shite. She must stand up straight and not be embarrassed. She should be imposing, even. Hæra threw her shoulders back and then had to stop the towel from falling down.

Jonathan stared at her. His eyebrows went up. A little smile found its way to his mouth. “Morning,” he said. “When’d you get in?”

“Late,” she said in a clipped voice. A secret. Our secret, Madeleine’s and mine.

“Mm. I was up till two.” His smile grew. “Must’ve been late indeed.”

Oh, curse it. He knew already. At least he seemed pleased about it, but Hæra glared at him anyway.

“Well, pay me no mind,” he said gently. “I’m happy if you are, and that’s all I’ll say.”

She softened. Just so long as he said nothing to Madeleine—but he would never. “I’m happy. Why were you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He yawned.

That was odd. Once Jonathan had stopped drinking, his sleep schedule became regular as clockwork. Had he heard something?

“Someone was here last night,” she said.

Jonathan smoothed down the few strands of hair over his bald spot. “What’s that?”

“I saw footprints outside the house. Just one person, I think.”

He stared at her. “What the hell?”

“I know.” She couldn’t keep having this conversation in a towel. “I checked everywhere. Nothing’s missing from the barn, and nobody got in the house. But someone was walking about outside last night. You heard nothing?”

Jonathan frowned. “No, but my ears aren’t what they used to be. Where did you see footprints?”

“Let me dress and I’ll show you.” She adjusted her towel again. “You know, the oddest thing? Whoever it was, was barefoot.”

She headed toward her bedroom, which had also been undisturbed. Behind her, Jonathan was silent. Then he said, “Barefoot?”

His voice sounded strange, but that was no wonder. Someone had crept round their property. Hæra felt strange about it too. “Yes.”

He made no reply. She dressed quickly, led him outside, and pointed at the footprints. “There, you see?”

“Someone was right here?” Jonathan asked faintly. He still wore his pajamas beneath a jacket, along with his work boots. “At my own window?”

“Clearly. You didn’t hear anything?”

“No. I didn’t.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at the footprints. “Barefoot. Sure enough.”

“Who might have done it?” Hæra asked in bewilderment. She’d lived among humans for five years but still hadn’t heard of any customs that had them walking round in the mud without shoes.