After our kiss in the kitchens, Agnes began to play her harp again.

I had known I missed her music, but I hadn't known how much. As I swept the entryway that day and heard the first tentative strains of her harp break the silence of the house, such a feeling of relief and gratitude swept over me that I stopped and closed my eyes. I thought I felt her lips on mine again. I thought I caught the scent of the lavender water she used to rinse her hair although she was upstairs, far away.

"Daniel?"

I opened my eyes to see Sybill coming in from the parlor, a dust rag in her hand. "Aye, ma'am?"

"I'll need you to help me move the dining table so we can give the room a rug a good beating. Master Wyll has a dinner party planned for a week hence; I want everything to be spotless by then."

"Alright—I'll be in just as soon as I finish up in here. What's the occasion?" It was rare for us to host guests. We had never done it frequently, but visits from folk outside the family had nearly ceased after Master Allore's death.

"Captain Dremmer, the gentleman who brought Miss Agnes home—Master Wyll has invited him. I'm glad, to be honest; it's been a long time since any of the house has had a social caller. Perhaps things will be getting on back to normal."

I went cold at the sound of the man's name, and something dark and bitter rose up in me. I could think of no reply, so I turned my attention back to my sweeping and said, "I'll be just a moment, ma'am, and then we'll see to the table."

I thought on Dremmer all day long as we made the initial preparations for his visit. I helped Sybill with the rug, wondering what sort of man he was. I swept out the hearth, wondering what his intentions might be with Agnes. I cleared the weeds away from the path that led from our front door down to the road, wondering what Agnes thought of him.

She'd met him only twice, I told myself. She could not think anything of him; she didn't know him. Not like she knew me. In either case, it didn't matter. Agnes wasn't mine.

That night I lay wakeful on my pallet in the kitchen, remembering Ness's song and eaten up with a longing I had never felt before and had no words to describe. It was restlessness and hopelessness and happiness and despair, all wrapped up into one queasy ache.

I was lying with my face toward the wall and my eyes closed when I felt a hand fall onto my shoulder. I bolted upright and whirled, raising my arm in defense, but it was only Agnes. Once again, she wore nothing more than her nightgown; she was a pale blur in the darkness of the kitchen. She'd come in on bare feet, silent as a ghost.

"Ness, what are you doing here?" I slept without my shirt; I snatched my blanket and pulled it up to cover my nakedness.

She said, "Move over."

"What?" I looked past her toward the door of the kitchen, pitching my voice down to a whisper. "Agnes, go back to bed."

Ness hesitated, as if considering my exhortation. Then, she shook her head. "Move over, Dannie."

I frowned at her for a moment, but what could I do? I pulled my blanket with me as I slid over on the pallet, making room for her. She sat down next to me and pulled her legs up so that her small, bare feet were perched on the edge of the bed.

I stared at her. The low embers of the fire left the kitchen mostly in shadow, but in its light, her eyes were lambent. She said, "Wyll told me today that he might send me away. Away to Oranslan."

A pang of shock tightened my stomach. "When?"

She shrugged one narrow shoulder. "I don't know. He said he'd do it if I'm not good. If I'm good, I think he'll let me stay—for now."

The thought of losing her, even in the abstract, was painful. I had to fight the urge to reach out and take her by the arms—to physically take hold of her. I drew an unsteady breath and pushed the impulse away. "Then you must stop your wandering, Ness. Your fighting. Don't make him send you away. You must stop doing—this."

"Doing what?" Ness turned to look at me, her brows raised in question.

"Agnes." I shrugged my naked shoulders above the blanket I clutched modestly to my chest, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Look at me. Look at you. If someone were to come, if they were to see—what would they think? You mustn't visit me like this when others are abed."

She frowned. "I wanted to talk to you."

"So talk to me in the daytime like we used to. Coming here like this, it makes me ..." I let the words trail away, for I could not tell her what her coming made me think, made me feel. She waited for me to go on, but I couldn't form the words. I felt my face glowing like a brand.

"I played today," she said, abruptly changing the subject. "Did you hear?"

I closed my eyes for a moment. "I did. It was beautiful."

Ness flashed a quick smile, an expression more of acknowledgment than gratitude. "Wyll said something else."

I waited, wishing she would go and hoping she would stay. She was so near to me; I could have brushed her arm with my arm. I could have touched her face. I could have caught her hair in my fingers, slid my arm around her back ...

"He said something about marriage."

Drawn again out of my improper thoughts, I echoed her in confusion. "Marriage?"

She nodded. "I think he wants to be rid of me—I think he shall send me either to Oranslan or to a husband."

God's bones. I sank back against the wall with a sigh, looking at her through the gloom. "Oh, Ness."

"But we could go away, Dannie." Her hand fell to cover mine.

I flinched away from her touch; her fingers felt cool, but where they touched me, my skin glowed hot as a brand. "Ness, you know that can't be. You're a lady."

"So we can go somewhere where I'm not a lady, and you're not a cook's boy. We could escape."

There was something about her voice that night that recalled the long-ago day when she had sung for the guests assembled in her father's parlor. It was a whisper, and it swept around me, drawing me up in a current of possibility. In some distant corner of my mind, an alarm bell sounded just as the hope of what she suggested rose in my breast, heedless of the impossibility of the notion.

I knew I should crush that brazen hope. But she laid her hand on my forearm and leaned in a little closer to me as I was still trying to make sense of what to say next. When I looked at her, her face came in and out of focus. "Ness ..."

"Dannie. My Dannie."

She kissed me, and the rest of what happened that night is a story I will keep for my own. 

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[Author's Note]

Hello, dearest reader! 

I've been trying to stay out of your hair up til now to let you get to know Ness and Dannie a bit--but I would love your feedback on this story, which is a unique project for me. Please share your thoughts! I like to dedicate chapters to those whose comments help me the most! (: 

1. Overall, what do you think of the story so far? Are you enjoying it? Is it well-paced? I'm trying to illustrate that Ness and Dannie are telling this story themselves many years afterward. Do you think this is successful?

2. What is your impression of Ness? Do you think she truly loves Dannie?

3. What is your impression of Dannie? Do you think he truly loves Ness?

4. Ness doesn't yet understand what governs the two strange things she has experienced: her physical transformations (which have come and gone), and her curious urge to obey Dannie (which she didn't feel in this chapter; she defied his request go to back to her room). Do you have any guesses as to what's up?