The tall man grimaced.

“Good for the king?” Nessa clutched Mop’s hand more tightly. “What do you mean?”

“The king—he’s always looking for… some sort of laugh. Some kind of distraction. He’s grown tired of his acrobats, and he’ll be less”—the red-faced man glanced meaningfully at the others—“ dissatisfied if we return with this funny fellow.”

“You cannot take Mop with you,” Nessa said, her voice rising. “He is not fit for such travel. He is needed here.”

The man laughed again. “Which is it, old woman? If he’s needed here for your flock, he’s clearly fit for travel. If he’s not needed here, well, then, what does it matter? So”—he leaned his body large over Nessa’s—“unless you can tell me where I can find a child—say, twelve or thirteen or so—he’s to come with us. It’s either him or a child.”

Rae, whole body quivering with fury, stepped out of the shadow of the barn into a patch of bright sun. She saw Mop’s eyes widen. She saw the tall man’s eyes widen. The two shorter men, still chuckling, had their attention on Mop. They did not yet see her.

Mop’s eyes, as he looked at Rae, were full of pleading. Trembling, he shook his head. No, he silently begged. No, no, no.

Half-moons falling deeper, the tall man looked from Mop to Rae. “That’s so,” he said after a long moment, his voice tight. He put his hand on Mop’s shoulder and pushed him—softly, almost hesitantly—toward the horses. The shorter men, following Mop, turned their backs to Rae. “The king will be disappointed if we return without the child he seeks. He will insist we failed and send more men. But if we bring this man… he will see that only a witless old shepherd lives in the hills.”

But Rae stepped farther into the sun. “You can’t take my father!” she cried.

“Rae!” Nessa turned, all the color drained from her face. “Daughter, run!” she shouted at the same time Mop wailed, “Sunlight!”

“Oho!” cried the red-faced man, hurrying to Rae and grabbing her arms. “So there is a child! We can take the man and the girl.”

“Let her go!” Nessa ran toward the man, but the third, quieter guard shoved her back.

“Get off, old woman.”

Ness stumbled backward.

“Don’t hurt them!” Rae cried. She struggled against the guard. “Leave them be!”

Mop was still wailing, a sound Rae thought might still be the word sunlight, and flailing against the tall guard holding him. Though Rae had not thought before she’d stepped out of the shadows, though she had not considered anything beyond saving Mop before she’d cried out, now that she had, it seemed as though this moment had been hurtling toward her all her life. The world slowed; small details—the trembling red of Mop’s lower lip, the pale fan of lashes over Ness’s cheek, the stubbled, dimpled chin of the laughing guard, the spittle shining in its grooves—grew suddenly large. She understood at once—she could not avoid this fate for herself. But she could save others.