Nattie had always known that her Aunt Isla was a talented woman—after all, she was an experienced healer, a powerful witch, and a world traveler—but she had no idea that the woman could cook.

“Dig in, everyone!”

Isla presented them an excellently whipped-up pork stew, accompanied by a loaf of fluffy white bread that she had baked the day before. With dinner, she’d filled a large pitcher with lemonade and poured it into a glass for each of them.

It was clearly a feast for someone like Tommin, who’d had to steal a loaf of bread just to survive.

“Whoa…” the little street urchin said. 

“Smells incredible, Isla,” Elias said. “Right?”

He looked pointedly at Tommin who nodded and picked up a spoon. The boy wolfed down a large mouthful and suddenly stared at Isla in awe. Nattie, who had also been surviving on what few scraps she could get her hands on, also enjoyed the meal immensely.

Once they were done, their stomachs full, heads swimming with sleepiness, Tommin agreed to stay the night.

“Or you could stay until you’ve healed up,” Isla said, surprising everyone at the table.

“That long?” Tommin gasped.

“You’re sure?” Elias asked, crinkling his brow. “You said it could be a couple of weeks.”

“I’m sure. It’s no trouble, really.”

“But…” Tommin hesitated.

“No one’s forcing you,” Isla said. “It’s your choice.”

Nattie watched many emotions flicker over Tommin’s face. No doubt no one had given him such an offer of hospitality before, and she doubted the boy had many choices in life. He was clearly weighing all his options before he spoke again.

“I mean… I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he said at last. “Since they’re not witches.”

“I leave him in your care, then Isla,” Elias said before standing from the table. He donned his dark blue knight’s cloak and made his way toward the front of the shop. “Thanks for everything.”

“Leaving so soon, captain?” Isla asked. 

So he is a captain, Nattie thought.

“I’m sure my men are wondering where I’ve gone,” Elias explained. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a couple of days to check on the boy. If he hasn’t run off, that is.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t,” Isla said and she winked at Tommin who blushed and fiddled with his bandages.

“Once again, I’m in your debt, Miss Greenleaf,” Elias said. He turned back to the table and took Aunt Isla’s hand. He bowed over it gallantly, pressing her fingertips to his forehead.

“You could always throw a few silvers my way, you know.”

“I could,” Elias said with a slight smirk. “But then I would be aiding and abetting criminal activity.”

Isla laughed and Tommin scoffed, though he looked slightly pleased from being called a criminal. Then Elias turned to Nattie, who sat quietly with Isla’s calico cat in her lap. She scratched at the cat’s velvety ears.

“Miss Umber,” Elias said with another slight bow. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. It’s good to know that there are more young women learning the healing trade. Hearth is lucky to benefit from your services.”

Nattie was deeply surprised by his kind attention and said only, “Thank you, Captain Elias.”

“Please, my first name is just fine.”

Nattie nodded. “Elias then.”

“I also appreciate your silence on this matter,” he added, pressing a finger to his lips. “Tommin’s not a bad kid. It’s just hard out there for most folks right now.”

Nattie wanted to ask why—to learn more about the ways of humans—but Elias simply saluted the room, shot Tommin one last warning look to behave himself, and left the apothecary without another word.

In the evening, after Isla and Nattie settled Tommin in, who fell asleep almost immediately with a belly full of stew, Isla closed up the shop.

Isla’s own room was downstairs. It was much larger than Tommin’s spare room and had its own little fireplace and a window with shutters. Isla fluffed up the bed pillows for her niece and insisted that Nattie take the room for herself.

“I’ll be perfectly happy on the settee until the morning,” Isla assured her. “Besides, I like to stay up late journaling the day’s treatments. I’m writing a book, you know.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

Nattie, now clothed in a borrowed nightgown, sat down on the mattress and brushed out her long golden hair. Every time she touched it she couldn’t believe it was her own. She’d had fox-red hair all twenty-five years of her life, and now she was almost unrecognizable. 

But it’s better that way, she supposed. If it keeps me alive and free.

Isla wore a comfortable cotton dress, and her silver-streaked copper hair, which was done in an intricate braid, trailed all the way down her shoulders. Practically to the floor. She sat down beside Nattie, took the brush from her, and began braiding those long blonde strands together. 

“It’s a grimoire,” Isla continued as she worked. “Well, more like a cookbook. One that combines human science and magic together. It has all my recipes for powerful healing tonics and poultices. But the best part is, my recipes don’t give off a magical signature. Humans will be able to make their own poultices, and I can hide my magic in plain sight.”

“Because all magic is outlawed?”

“Precisely.”

Nattie closed her eyes and let the comfortable feeling of Isla’s fingers in her hair transport her back to a time when life was simpler. Back when she was seven years old, not yet chosen as the Vulpus Queen, and spent days looking for berries, playing with the other children, and attempting to speak with the rabbits in the glen. She let herself dream all the way back to a time when magic was a gift. Not something to be used against other people, and especially not something to be outlawed or feared.

“Aunt Isla, Tommin called us ‘witches’ today.”

“Yes, he did…” Isla sighed. “It’s a slur here. He meant to hurt our feelings. I doubt he suspects the real thing.”

“He’s only thirteen,” Nattie whispered, “and yet he seems like he hates the whole world.”

Isla tied off Nattie’s braid with a strip of soft twine and sighed. “Most children his age don’t have the luxury of being children anymore.”

Nattie turned to face her aunt. “Because of Brannon?”

Isla gave her a tired smile. “Because of the world that Brannon built. He hoards wealth, taxes people into the ground, and uses fear and exhaustion to keep them in line. Most of Hearth—most of Fellsbrand, really—is either starving, sick, or desperate. It wasn’t always this way, though. Back when I first arrived, Brannon’s aging father was still king. He feared magic, yes,  but he was a kinder ruler. Most humans thrived under him. Then he died and Brannon took power. Things only got worse. Food costs more than it should, work pays less than it used to, and the people who dare to speak against it...”

Nattie frowned. “The Blue Keep?”

Isla’s silence was confirmation enough.

Nattie thought of Tommin again—wired, sharp-tongued, and far too thin beneath his ragged clothes. He had acted like he didn’t care, as if he would bolt at any moment. But the way he had inhaled his meal, and the way he had looked at the warm bed upstairs like it was some kind of magical illusion… 

Well, it was clear enough. Tommin had been fighting to survive for longer than any child should.

“This kingdom has always feared magic,” Isla repeated, “but Brannon turned that fear into law. First, he drove witches and mages into hiding. Then, he made it so only the rich could afford medicine and a good education. The people in places like Lower Hearth have nowhere else to turn. He keeps them weak and afraid so they won’t have the strength to rise up against him.”

Nattie swallowed. “That’s why you stayed? So the people would have someone to turn to?”

Isla smiled. “A little medicine, a little kindness… it doesn’t take much to keep someone going. Sometimes, that’s all a person needs.”

Nattie didn’t know what to say. She had spent her whole life fearing humans, believing them to be cruel and dangerous. On her journey here, she had been met with unkind, suspicious people who’d barely given her a second glance, even when she’d begged for odd jobs to pay for food. But if Isla could live among them, heal them, and even love them in her own way… well, maybe things weren’t as simple as she’d thought.

Isla touched Nattie’s hand gently, rousing her from her thoughts.

“Get some sleep, Miss Umber. I’ve plenty of work for you to do in the morning.”

Nattie tensed at the name. It wasn’t hers—at least, not really. But it was the one she had chosen when she left everything behind. The one she would have to live by now.

But maybe, with her aunt by her side, things wouldn’t be so bad. After all, a pair of powerful witches could do just about anything.

“Thank you for taking me in, Isla Greenleaf,” Nattie said, an easy smile finally crossing her face. “You really are a wonderful witch.”

Isla smiled back, kissed the top of her niece’s head, then rose to dim the lantern. Before she closed the bedroom door behind her, to spend her evening out on the settee in the shop, she smiled.

“I don’t know if you’ll stay forever, but you’re welcome to. And if it’s only for a little bit, then I hope you find some peace while you’re here.”

Nattie gave her a sad, tired smile. “I truly hope so, too.”