Emory's office felt more comfortable now that Midge was seated as a welcome guest upon the wide, black leather couch lining the southwest wall, rather than being rushed through it as an unwanted intruder.

Then she swept her eyes back up to Emory and had to smile. Perhaps the term 'welcome guest' was pushing it, based on that black glare. Still, he didn't frighten or intimidate her. She merely pictured him as a small raccoon, hissing mad, but not really willing or able to do very much about it, and perhaps under the dark mask, not all that mad in the first place.

"This is comfortable," she voiced her thoughts with an approving nod, and Emory's shoulders relaxed slightly from his perch on the desk.

Rita sighed in blissful delight and lolled back against the pillows, clutching her belly, bulging from jam bars and tea. "Your baking is improving so much, Emory."

"My baking needs no improvement," he bit out as if the very idea revolted him. "Midge, why wouldn't you trust me with all of this? I've been letting you stay here, I haven't done anything to you and my village has been feeding you. Surely you owed it to me to confess all you knew, let me prepare for the inevitable fae queen incursion."

She supposed she could not blame him for being upset. The last half an hour had been spent filling in Emory on details of her life in the Faewild that Rita already knew. "Emory, it wasn't personal. In the Faewild, nobody ever trusts anybody, and they are always right. Rita understood that. Which is... perhaps ironically why I felt I could trust her sooner."

"Oh, nothing personal, then," Emory said in a sarcastic mockery of Midge's tone.

"Really, it wasn't," Rita said, kicking her hooves to bring herself lurching back upright. "If you were the faun and I was the Shadar-kel she'd have told you instead, right Midge?"

"Right," Midge said, though she wasn't as certain about that as Rita seemed to be.

"Hm." Emory's feet slipped down to dangle over the edge of the desk so instead of a raccoon, he more resembled a child sitting on a chair that was too high for him. "I suppose how you describe the Faewild is the opposite of how it was in the Shadowfell, where I came into maturity. A Shadar-kel's word is their bond."

"Oh, no, a Fae's word is their bond too," Rita said merrily, crossing one soft-furred thigh over the other. "Have I ever promised you anything, Emory? There's certainly a reason I haven't."

"Hm. Well I'm glad you've had the luxury of avoiding it."

"I have as well," Midge said. "Now that I think about it, we never even had to promise loyalty to Queen Titania. Whenever one of us popped out of the Great Kiln, she would just send us right off to the kitchens to be assigned. Perhaps now that I am free, we can use that little oversight against her." Even as she spoke, Midge watched Emory warily. She didn't know him, had spent barely any time with him, yet she still felt as if she could read him, and right now she read the expression of a man about to reluctantly step over the edge of a cliff.

His dark eyes fixed upon her and he came to his feet, pushing up and away from the desk. He ignored Rita's soft query of, "Emory?" and paced across the large office until he stood before Midge. She was so tall and he was so small of stature that she could comfortably meet his gaze, even while seated.

"Don't bother to protest," he said, voice glum. "I've got orders."

Whipping out his dagger in one blinding flash of movement, he brought the blade slashing down, and Midge cringed back, but a blow never fell. Instead the dagger sliced a clean line across Emory's skin, and bright red drops began to burble up and flow down the curving edges of the blade, slide into the well at the dagger's hilt, and glow an even brighter ruby.

"Emory," Rita squeaked, but he shook his head to stave off her healing aura before it could brighten to engulf him.

"By the word of the Raven Queen and upon my honor, I hereby swear to protect and serve you until such time as my oath is fulfilled, or my thread is severed." He paused, and his quivering lips pressed together to hide any sign of trembling. "Let us hope it will not be my end."

Midge waited, eyes wide and staring up at the tense, pale face of the Shadar-kel beneath the hood. She knew even if she wished to somehow let him off the hook, or avoid being under his protection, the deed had been done. Exhaling a long breath, she glanced at Rita and nodded to the cut on Emory's arm, still dripping, though the red had faded from its magical glow.

Rita rushed forward, laying her palm over it softly and cooing tender, unintelligible words until the skin healed together, pink and new. Then she tugged his long, black sleeve back over his wrist and smacked the back of his hand. "Why did you do that?" she scolded.

"I... have the same question." Midge didn't want to take it lightly, but at the same time, it mystified her. "No offense, but you faint at every sign of danger. What exactly are you going to be protecting me from?"

Emory sniffed and drew himself back, offended by their lack of amazement at his sacrifice. "I do not faint. I simply... I grow overwhelmed at the idea of change, and unexplained disturbances, and unanswered questions. But I handle danger with aplomb."

"Oh, with aplomb." Midge lifted one brow and glanced at Rita for confirmation.

Rita smiled. "He actually is quite good. He only faints once the danger has passed."

Emory walked back to the desk and cast himself down upon it again, picking up one of his small, whittled raven figurines and sulking over it. "I don't faint. They're called panic attacks, it's different."

"I'm sorry, dear," Rita said, voice meek but eyes dancing. "It always has been a wonder to me, how you got through all those years of adventuring before this."

"Were you an adventurer?" Midge asked, looking up at Emory. Rita had explained a little of the bond between the goddess and the Shadar-kel, but there was so much more Midge was sure she didn't know.

"Not exactly a voluntary one, but yes. I ran with a group of Shadar-kel for some time, we were some of the Raven Queen's most active gatherers." Emory shook his head. "But it didn't take that long for me to figure out the hedonistic, death-taunting sort of thing is... not for me. The Raven Queen agreed that I could retire, for the most part, as long as I didn't use any magic, which seemed like a fair trade to me. I pulled off one last job with my crew to fund the purchase of this island, and the building of Gloomshadow, but..."

He trailed off, voice growing hoarse and choked. Rita sent him a sympathetic glance. "The rest of his crew died. Frozen to death by Vorugal, the Frigid Doom."

"One other survived," Emory corrected her, lifting his chin from his chest. "But he never forgave me, or the Raven Queen. The Shadar-kel are supposed to accept that death is part of the job description, and Calum never did."

"Neither did you," Rita prompted again, and Emory turned his dark eyes upon her with an exasperated glance.

"Am I to have no secrets left from my new assignment?" he asked dryly, and Midge tried not to take being termed an 'assignment' as too great an insult.

"You fear death, and most Shadar-kel don't?" Midge inquired, keeping her voice neutral and her eyes free of judgment. She had never given much thought to death, or whether or not she ought to fear it. Never feeling quite aware of her own existence at all had put a damper on such existential crises.

"I fear throwing myself over the edge of cliff after cliff, tensed for the moment I finally fall, yes, but I think that's quite normal," Emory said, still indignant.

"It is, Emory. Just not for the Shadar-kel," Rita said, her voice still soft and kind. "And anyway, you're retired, now. It's all behind you."

They sat in silence, contemplating the relative truth of that statement when just moments ago he had been forced out of retirement by his oath to Midge.

"You mentioned, Rita, that Midge has been experiencing some strange things with the water, when you go swimming in the village pool," Emory said, his smooth voice breaking the contemplation. "Perhaps you would like a more private place to explore what this might mean. I can show you mine, if you like."

Midge stared at him, then glanced back at Rita. The faun looked mystified for a quarter of a second before delight beamed over her features and she clapped her hands together. "Yes, yes! Excellent idea, Midge will love it down there. I've only peeped once and it is gorgeous. I'm going to go back to the village and check on Ulviir."

Emory hesitated, then glanced at Midge. "Stay here, if you don't mind, while I escort her out?"

Well, damn. If this divine oath he had made was a way for him to relax and trust her this much, then she was glad he'd done it.

"I'll stay," she agreed, picking up the empty plate from the low, ornate wooden trunk that served as a coffee table.

Emory sent her one last glance, then nodded and started towards the door. Rita hopped off the couch and trotted after him, dusting her behind off as she went.

Midge licked her fingertip and dipped it down into the crumbs of jam bars that lingered on the plate, then stroked her fingertip over her tongue and savored the lingering sweet-and-salty flavor.

Yes, she was curious about this island, about the wakening fierceness in her own heart, about this private pool Emory was going to show her, about the Raven Queen's interest in Midge's destiny, about everything to do with this Island of the Fay.

So, yes. She would stay.

For now.