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Eight

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My first feeling is one of relief; my second suspicion—did he follow me here? I shake the thought. For the first time since I met him, he looks genuinely surprised to see me. I shift my gaze to Myers who blinks at me, confused, like it's the first time he's seen me.

"Thanks for... everything. I was just leaving."

"As was I." Killian steps back, turning to look back at Myers who shrinks under his gaze. "I hope we've come to an understanding."

Myers nods, eyes skittish as he looks down. I turn away, starting back towards the village streets, aware of Killian mere steps behind me. A hand darts out to catch my wrist, Myers' nails digging into my flesh. I gasp as he spins to face me, eyes bulging from their sockets as he stares at me.

"Don't," he all but hisses.

Before I can say anything, Killian knocks his shoulder back and breaks his grip on my wrist. I step back, eyes wide as Myers dashes back inside his workshop, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of bolts jangling together echoes through the air.

"Are you okay?"

I let out a shaky breath. "I'm fine."

"What were you doing here?"

I meet his eye, swallowing the lump in my throat. I didn't expect to have to make up a lie–nearly nobody comes out here. "What were you doing here?"

"Myers owns the cabin I'm staying in," he says, frowning at my lack of an answer and holding up a key. "One of the keys broke. I came to replace it."

He seems to be telling the truth, but I can't shake the unease settled in my stomach. If he hadn't been there, what would have happened? The entire encounter has left me shaken. I can't help but wonder what my father wanted with a man like that.

We walk along the path back to the village centre. Humidity hangs in the air, the earthy smell of oncoming rain penetrating the forest. The clouds are even darker than they were this morning. I nibble on the edge of my lip and pick up the pace. We don't often have rainstorms in Veymaw, not this early into autumn, but if that's what's coming, getting wet is the least of my worries.

The last rainstorm in Veymaw spoiled hundreds of crops.

"You should be more careful coming here alone," Killian says. I pretend not to hear him. "I'm serious, Freya." He grabs my wrist and pulls my sleeve up, revealing the half-moons Myers nails indented into my skin. "That man is not stable."

"I can take care of myself."

As I stare up at him, I wonder if the reason he doesn't ask why I was there is because he already knows. Or at least suspects. The thought makes my fingers tremble. I pull my hand away. Under the gloomy sky, his eyes seem warmer than usual.

Before he can say anything, someone appears on the path behind him. Jyro. He must be heading to the fields before the storm rolls in.

I step aside to let him pass, nodding politely. His eyes brush over Killian but pause on me, as if trying to figure out how he knows me. I don't see him often, only when he's scolding me for interrupting Casimir at the fields.

"Freya, right?" he says after a few moments. I nod. "Tell Casimir if he's late one more time, he's done. Maybe he'll take it seriously coming from you."

"Casimir's the hardest worker I know but he does need to sleep," I say with a frown. "So maybe you should stop asking him to work on the nets in the middle of the night."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." It starts to spit. Jyro scowls, looking at the sky. "Just tell Casimir this is his last warning."

He brushes past me and disappears amongst the trees. I stare blankly after him, my mind tossing. Casimir told me Jyro asked him to check the nets last night.

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