“But-”

Flint stood up and held out a hand to her. “It’s time for supper.”

All through supper, Em would slip in the request. Again and again and again.

Even though Flint eventually looked exhausted by her efforts, he never gave in. After Ralph passed on words of sympathy from himself and others (people who knew what it was like to be hounded by a determined child), she reached her own breaking point.

With a screech, she ran from the table. In a full-blown tantrum, she went up to her room and threw herself on the bed.

I’m acting like a child, she thought as she pounded her pillow.

Well, in this body and in my coma, I am a child, darn it!

She pounded and pounded. Yelling into her pillow and kicking her legs.

Until she was exhausted.

Then she curled her legs up to her chest and held them. Blinking back tears of frustration. And shame.

She couldn’t remember a time as Em that she’d ever thrown a tantrum like that.

Not when she was little and not when she just wished Mom would come home that night. And not when she found out she was sick and wouldn’t get better.

And over this?

Of course, Emmaline was different. Em had been borrowing some of Emmaline’s tricks, which had worked very well for the little girl before.

What had Em done wrong?

It was confusing.

Emmaline was not above doing whatever it took to get what she wanted. And Em… Em was realizing how much she’d regressed into that little girl and had allowed herself to become a burden. Purposefully become a burden.

And where was Tracy?

Usually, her maid would have come and fussed over her. Trying to get her to feel better.

Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t come. A just punishment for Em allowing herself to act like a spoiled little brat.

Feeling alone, abandoned, and ashamed, silent tears leaked out of Em’s eyes and she curled up as hard as she could. She wanted to pull the blanket over her head. But getting up long enough to pull it out from under her seemed like too much work.

It was dark. The dark would have to do.

She was beginning to doze when she heard the door creak open.

“Tracy?”

She was ashamed of the little spark of hope that maybe someone still cared about her. She should be punished, even if it was self punishment. But…

Then she blinked blankly at the person who came in, carrying a lamp.

He put it on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. Em scrambled to sit up, wiping the remains of tears and snot on the back of her hand. Not looking at him.

The man said nothing, letting the awkward silence continue.

When she finally peeked up at him, he hesitantly held open his arms.

Tears came back in a gush as she eagerly accepted his offer. Throwing herself at him with a little sob.

For a moment, he just held her as she sniffled and occasionally hiccuped.

“I just wanted to-to see for my-myself what you were going to do.”

“To do?”

“That Sucket m-man. I wanted-wanted to see-”

“You could have asked.”

She sniffled. “No one tells the truth.”

Even Maddie. Maddie would tell her everything was fine. And then drink for half the night while staring at medical bills she couldn't pay.

Em wasn’t stupid.

“I wanted to see for myself.”

“I see.”

“And I wanted to-to see how L-Laisha and her daddy were doing.”

“Laisha?”

Em sniffled her way through the story. About how the child had run in front of her carriage and her daddy offering to take both their punishments.

She peeked at his face. Wanting to see his reaction to her decision about letting the pair go.

He didn’t react. Just watched her with his usual, unreadable expression.

As a final plea on her behalf, she said, “And I need to see a priest.”

“Yes, Kimball told me about that. No, you still may not come.”

She’d already stopped herself from asking, but being headed off made her flinch. With a sigh, she dropped her head against his shoulder.

Tracy and Maddie would have stroked her hair and rocked her. Murmuring soothing words. Flint was too awkward. His whole body was stiff with the unfamiliarity of trying to comfort a child.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Not once.”

She giggled again and rubbed her nose into his shoulder. He smelled nice. Not like he’d been drowned in cologne, but like he’d spent time outside and with paper.

It shouldn’t have smelled nice. But… this was… comforting.

***

Flint was careful as he put Em to bed. Perhaps he should send in the maid to get the child in her nightshirt? He wasn’t sure what to do about that.

For a moment, he looked down at her sleeping face. It was puffy from crying, but she had a small smile hovering around her lips. He reached out to touch her hair, hesitated, and dropped his hand.

Without looking back, he picked up the lamp and left the room.

When he left the next morning, it was before the sun rose.

If he had asked himself why he hadn’t waited for the sunrise, he would’ve had to admit his cowardice. He told people no and what to do all day long. He’d never before had such a determined adversary.

But if he gave in now, he knew he’d give in for the rest of his life.

And that was good neither for Em nor for him.

Still, he wasn’t unreasonable. If she’d given him a good reason for the fuss, he would’ve been willing to make a compromise.

He wasn’t sure why she felt she needed to watch the arrest so badly. And he could have Ralph or someone else from the escort find out about the child, Laisha.

The thing that truly concerned him was her claim about Loki.

When Kimball told him what Em said, he’d called Tracy to ask her about it. The presence of a god shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Yes,” she’d said after a moment's reflection. “Miss Emmaline has been having strange things happening.”

He meant to question her about what those ‘strange things’ were. But there was something about her troubled expression that kept him quiet. He knew from experience that sometimes people said things you needed to know, or didn’t expect, if you gave them room to say it.

“Sir, I don’t think she’s lying.”

“I never said she was.”

Though he thought it probable that she was noticing a small bad luck streak and attributing it to the god. As opposed to truly having trouble with the god.

Unaware of his thoughts, Tracy continued.

“No, there’s something else.”

Then she told him a strange story. Em had accused ‘the young master Felix’ (he didn’t correct her) of killing her parents. And that not only had Loki told her about their deaths, but had also told her if Felix wasn’t dead within a month, then Loki was lying.

Felix had been dead within a month.

Flint convulsively clenched his fists under the desk and stared off to the side.

Felix.

His brother had made a mess of the barony, embezzled where he could, invested what little funds were left in ridiculous ventures, and nearly sold Em off to a man Flint would happily execute if given the chance.

And there might be more?

Damn it!

He would have rubbed his forehead against a coming headache if the maid were not watching.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said politely. “I’ll see what I can do.”

If Loki was indeed mucking around with his little sister, he needed to do something about it.

He was tempted to take comfort because it was Loki and not another god showing interest. Of all the gods, Loki was the one most likely to take an interest simply out of boredom. Any of the others would spell dire undercurrents.

However, if Felix had really arranged the murder of two people…

And did it on top of having enchanted weapons that even kings would have difficulty finding…

There was enough rot to make him worry about what else was happening. And who else might be involved.

Maybe it was time to send a message back to the capital. See if his people had come up with any leads on the weapons. And have them look into the possible murder.

He could already feel the strain on his budget.

Thank the gods the investment Lady Madeline suggested to him was now sending returns.

He was not a business man of any sort. He would not have looked at the investment on his own. And to make the investment, he had used his small, personal funds. Before his finances began to fall apart.

At the time, it was more to humor her than because he had enough experience to know what she was talking about. And not knowing how bad things would get, he hadn’t had a use for those personal funds.

Now it was a blessing he couldn’t do without.

He thought about all of this during the long ride to the southern border of his March.

If he’d gone at a normal pace, he would have arrived around noon the next day. But because of his agitation, he pushed the horses and his men as fast as they could go. Without galloping the whole way.

The only people who noticed their arrival were a pair of shepherds on the outskirts. They were hanging out by a stone wall as Flint called a halt to his men.

He debated briefly about heading to the manor right away. But, unless Reeve Sucket made a run for it, they had plenty of time to take care of their business the next day.

“We’ll camp here,” he told his men flatly.

No one objected. Even though it would have been well within his rights as the heir apparent to demand lodgings.

Most villages in Silver Vale March had a small camping area just outside the borders. Besides the inns within. The Empire was less accommodating in that way, forcing travelers to either stay at the various inns or find their own campgrounds.

It made setting up camp easy, despite the night hours.

After everything was set up and a cold meal of bread and cheese passed around, Flint wandered off. His mind still racing with his thoughts of the day.

He leaned on the stone fence line. Staring unseeingly at the pasture beyond.

“Hey, you!”

He turned his chin just enough to see one of the two shepherds striding toward him.

“Yes?”

“What business do you have here?”

The man was emanating so much hostility that Flint imagined he could smell it. And by now, the shepherd had spoken enough that Flint could identify his accent.

A Silver Vale native. A Lycan.

“We’re here to see the Reeve. Is there something I ought to know before we do?”

“Jay,” whispered the second shepherd, grabbing the other man’s arm. “Let’s just go. Before the overseers come.”

‘Jay’ shook off the other man’s hands. And marched right up to Flint. Now only the fence stood between them.

“You filthy humans think you can take whatever you want! Our land, our homes, even our children! But one day, you’ll regret it.”

The other man bared his fangs, which flashed white in the moonlight.

Flint didn’t flinch.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Flint hadn’t meant it as a provocation, but the man took it as one. With a growl, he lashed out with clawed hands. Flint swerved back to put more distance between them and grabbed his sword handle.

The other shepherd intervened before his friend could vault over the wall. The second man grabbed Jay around the middle with one hand and one of his wrists with the other. Yanking him.

“Let go of me, you bastard! I’ll make these wretches pay for taking my child! I said let go!”