“Well, I’m”—Alice hesitated—“actually, I’m not really sure,” she said, twisting her wet hair in her fingers. A small puddle was forming at her feet. “It’s rather a long story. In fact—in fact I should probably tell you that we’re not from here. We come from another village, called Ferenwood. You’ve probably never heard of Ferenwood, but it’s ano—”

“Of course I know of Ferenwood,” Laylee snapped. She hadn’t had as much schooling as most children, but she wasn’t stupid. “We study the many magical lands in our second year.”

Alice’s face went impossibly paler. “There are other magical lands? But I’ve only just learned about you.”

Laylee was unmoved. This girl was either very stupid or just pretending to be stupid, and Laylee couldn’t decide which was worse.

“Well, anyway,” Alice rushed on, wringing her hands, “we have a Surrender every year where we perform our magical talents in exchange for a task, and—and anyhow, I’ve been tasked to you.”

This, Laylee did not understand.

It took several minutes of explaining what, exactly, went into a Surrender (this was a magical coming-of-age ceremony specific to Ferenwood) and the mechanics of a task (the purpose of which was always to help someone or someplace in need), and by the end of it, Laylee was not only irritated, she was annoyed, and she wanted Alice to go home.

“I will not accept your pity,” said Laylee. “You’re wasting your time.”

“But—”

“Take your friend and leave me be. I’ve had a very long day and I’ve more to do in the morning and I cannot be distracted by your”—she frowned and waved a dismissive hand—“bizarre offer of charity.”

“No—please,” Alice said quickly, “you must understand: I wouldn’t have been sent here if you didn’t have a problem I could fix! If you would only tell me what’s wrong with you, maybe I could—”

“What’s wrong with me?” said Laylee, astounded.

“Well, I don’t mean”—Alice laughed nervously—“of course I didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with you—”

“Good grief, Alice. Ruined things already, have you?” Oliver had appeared at her side with such silent swiftness he startled both girls at once.

“What are you doing here?” Laylee said angrily, turning to aim the poker in his direction. “Who are you people?”

“We’re here to fix what ails you, apparently,” said Oliver with a smile. “Alice is very smooth, isn’t she? Quite the charmer.”

Laylee, confused, dropped the poker for just a second. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Ah,” said Oliver, raising an eyebrow. “I see we’ve already lost our sense of humor.”

“Oliver, please!” Alice cried. “Just be quiet!”

Laylee, who’d had quite enough of this nonsense, narrowed her eyes and clenched the poker and the next thing she knew she was making up beds for her guests and asking them if they’d like anything to drink. A great fire was blazing on the hearth, and the castle felt warm and cozy like it hadn’t in years. Laylee was always loath to light a fire (as it was a costly indulgence), and she’d spent all year carefully amassing a steady supply of firewood; the most frigid winter nights were yet to come, and she was planning to ration what she had to last the snowy season. Now she smiled at the dancing flames, only partly understanding that these strangers had used up her entire store in a single evening, and she sighed, wondering—with great tenderness—how best to kill them for it.

Alice and Oliver were now nice and dry. Their heavy coats had been hung by the fire and, thanks to the great and crackling blaze, were nearly rid of any remaining damp. Oliver seemed pleased. Alice, however, was looking newly terrified, shooting worried glances at Laylee (who was studying her hands, trying to determine left from right), tugging at her companion’s shirt, and hissing, “Stop this, Oliver! You stop it right now!”

Laylee blinked.

“She’s perfectly fine, Alice! There’s no need for hysterics.”

“If you don’t stop this right now—”

“But she won’t let us stay any other way! Besides, she’d have stuck you nice and bloody with that poker if it weren’t for me—”

Laylee tilted her head, distracted by a spot on the wall. Dimly, she wondered who these people were.

“This is my task, Oliver Newbanks, and you will do as I say. And it’s no fault of mine that she wanted to stick me with a poker! Maybe if you hadn’t decided to break her bedroom window—”

“It was freezing outside!”

“Oh, I swear it, Oliver, if you ruin this for me, I will never forgive you, not ever!”

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Fine. But I’m only doing it bec—”

Laylee inhaled so quickly she felt her head spin. Slowly, very slowly, she felt the blood rush back into her brain. She rubbed at her eyes and squinted them open, blinking carefully in the intense glow of the fire, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make sense of what she saw. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here, and she couldn’t understand who’d allowed these strangers to set up quarters in her living room.