They set out for the Southlands the next day, and that was quite literally that.

At first Stray thought that things wouldn’t be very different; After all, it wasn’t as if she and Logan would be doing anything untoward, not if his determination to save her virtue remained unchanged. That first night when she slept in his bed nothing happened: She woke in the early hours of dawn to find his arms around her, his hands resting in entirely proper places, so very different than the night they’d slept together in the Wolf Mother’s Cave. If she were being truthsome, Stray would admit that she was a little disappointed: It was hard to believe that the quiet, considerate, occasionally infuriatingly stubborn man she was sharing a caravan with could be the creature she had lain with in the wildwood. He seemed too peaceable, too… determined to be docile, to be the same beast, for all that he turned half-lupine so they could sleep together.

While he may have been perfectly chaste in private, in public he was anything but. He held her hand all the time when they were amongst the others, made a show of following her half-dressed out of the caravan every morning despite the bitter cold. (Needless to say, this practice had made her very popular with the other women of the Company.) He set her between his legs when they ate at the camp-fire, let his hands rest casually on her body every chance he got despite her Curse. “It’s not like it’s going to kill me, cariad,” he muttered when she objected one day, “And even if it did-” He grinned- “There are worse ways to go.” This physical intimacy was so new to Stray, and she found she liked it: For the first time in her life she began to understand the difference between having someone care about rather than for her. Her father and Lord David had looked after her because she was a prize possession; Logan took care of her because he wanted to, because he understood her needs rather than just his own. And as he was fond of pointing out when in company, she was his chatelaine-

Stray found that, despite the teasing from the other women, she didn’t mind that thought at all.

So when they came into Caer Naegin and he bought her several gossamer-light scarves as well as a couple of gowns nobody thought anything of it. He also bought her a tiny, spun-bronze ring to wear on her thumb- if she was his chatelaine she would have to wear the mark of her rank- and a pair of the finest, softest leather gloves that coin and intimidation could buy. These were added to the rabbit-fur hat and boots he’d made for her on the road and the deer-skin lined green woollen cloak he’d bartered for in the market at Bin Rais. By the time she’d been in his caravan a week she had everything she’d ever needed, though it was significantly less than she’d previously ever had. She had, however, never been so contented before. The men of the Company teased Logan that he was spoiling her, that he was moon-sopped and foolish over nought but a young skirt-

But when he first held a silken scarf before her face and kissed her in front of everyone the men promptly ceased their teasing.

Stray would remain awake several nights remembering it and willing her treacherous skin not to conjure what else could be done, had Logan the aid of a scarf.

She never found out though; They moved on from Caer Naegin and Logan’s wins in the boxing cages- the city was more famous for its blood-sports than its flesh houses or even its dragons’ breath dens- without Logan making another attempt on her virtue, let alone showing her what more could be done if he had the aid of a scarf. They crossed the border into the Southlands on a brisk, fine morning; Once through the Singing Gate-so called because every word spoken at it was supposedly sung on the wind back to Lord Sebastian- the road forked and they stopped. To the East lay the Brazen Sea and the great capital of Min Hadyn. To the left the unending grasslands of the Never-Still and beyond it the ancient forest containing Shaw Manor, which was known as the Echoing Green. Red and Scott made a show of allowing anyone who wanted to turn away from Shaw Manor the opportunity to do so: Nobody did however, not even Katherine Shadowskin, much to Gainsborough’s visible delight. Ororo threw Logan an unreadable look at that development and he tightened his grip on Stray, there where she sat between his thighs; She looked up at him uncertainly, but he merely smiled and brushed a kiss across her forehead, too quick to awaken her Curse.

“Don’t fret, little Trouble-Begot,” he said softly. “There’s nothing in this place that I’ll let hurt you.”

“What about something that could hurt you?” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “If you get to fret about me then surely I get to do the same about you. That’s the chatelaine’s prerogative-”

He kissed her lightly on the lips- they were in public after all- but did not answer her.

Despite her many attempts to bring it up the matter was not spoken of again.

And so they pressed on, though now matters between them became more difficult: Once into the Never-Still Logan’s temperament seemed to turn wild. Nightmares, complete with near-full lupine transformations and blood-curdling cries, now became commonplace for him. Some nights he held onto her so hard he left bruises, for all that she never let him see and didn’t herself care. He became wary, tetchy with worry. The beast within him stalked ever nearer the surface, ever-more ready to emerge and to fight. Some days he seemed unwilling to let her out of his sight, as if afraid she would be spirited away. Some days he seemed afraid to even touch her, as if somehow his hands would harm her by some unaccountable means. But though she asked he would not explain to her what was wrong, wouldn’t confide in her. In fact he more than once yelled at her loudly for asking at all. He always apologised but the damage was cumulative: Silence became their constant companion, with tension as its mate. Stray tried to tell herself this was travellers’ anxiety. That their passage through the Never-Still felt interminable and the grass poisonous, that the water was too far beneath the ground to be of much use for drinking and that’s why Logan was cross. But she knew it for a lie. Something was wrong with him. And as if to make matters worse, there were the stories doing the rounds in the camp, stories about the Never-Still. Tales of grass that swallowed travellers whole, grass that picked bodies bleach-clean. It was why there were no animals in the Never-Still, the stories whispered, no people. Why nothing lived here that was not green. The grasses were too greedy to share their land with trespassers, and the Company were trespassers-

Stray couldn’t help but notice that they never seemed to stay in any one particular spot for long, no matter how tired the horses were.

It was something else that was likewise never discussed, but which she knew to be true.

And so they entered the Echoing Green and the last miles before Shaw Manor on tenterhooks. Their early closeness apparently in tatters, the nerves of the entire Company frayed to shreds. Once the crystalline-leaved canopy of the forest closed over them however Logan seemed to relax a little. There was always something of the woodlands in Logan, for all that he walked like a man. They reached Shaw Manor just before sundown exactly two weeks after they had left Gainsborough’s manor: The house looked very fine at sunset, perched as it was on a steep incline with the Brazen Sea at its back. The gardens were beautiful and expansive, draped in honey-rose and copper-lily: There was flower-scent on the air and bees humming, despite the fact that snow should be one the ground. The crystalline, musical leaves of the Echoing Green swayed in welcome, singing seductively: Every window was tied with green cloth to signify a wedding and the staff waiting to welcome them numbered far more than the Company of Miracles, even including the horses and dogs. Emmalaine Frost sauntered down the steps of the house on the arm of a handsome, middle-aged man with coal black hair and striking features. He carried a silver cane in one hand, the other placed firmly on Emmalaine’s rear. The woman was wearing pristine white as usual, but Stray couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have been wearing something else, something darker-

A long, uncomfortable beat, wherein everyone fidgeted.

Stray felt Logan’s hand at her back and instantly she stilled.

“So this is your family, my jewel,” the man- Shaw, Stray presumed- said loudly.

He was making a show of being unimpressed with the men folk, which was fine since the men folk looked surely unimpressed with him.

“Yes, my darling Sebastian,” Emmalaine answered. She tossed her blond hair and Stray felt more than heard Katherine Shadowskin grit her teeth. “This is the Company of Miracles, merry band of reprobates and the finest entertainers in all the Twelvelands. You’ll not be disappointed by them, my Lord, I can assure you of that.”

And she smiled that overly-sweet, cat-like smile she’d used on Kitty.

It might have been her imagination, but Stray swore Ororo’s hand twitched towards her bow.

Nobody said anything untoward though, and the moment passed quietly. Red and Scott came forward to bow to their host and Shaw’s eyes visibly widened when he took in the apothecary’s resemblance to her sister, much to Scott’s disgust. The Seneschal leaned forward, whispering something in Summerisle’s ear: Whatever it was made Logan growl and Emmalaine snicker, for all Scott politely shook his head and uttered a simple “No.” Shaw made a show of shrugging then, his gaze regretful as it continued to size Red up. It was only when she stepped away from him and back towards the Company that his gaze found Stray. As if prompted by some unseen force- Emmalaine perhaps?- his attention came to rest on the girl, lingering for a moment on the chatelaine’s ring she wore on her thumb.

He all but smacked his lips at the sight of it and immediately Stray began to squirm.

She had the sinking feeling she knew what this meant.

Instantly though Logan’s hand came back to her spine, rubbing. The motion soothed her, and she began to still again, her own hand finding his and giving it a squeeze. The nobleman’s eyes narrowed cannily when he saw the reaction, but when he spoke it was in a careless, lascivious drawl. “She’s very obedient,” he said, eyeing Logan. “And young too, wherever did you procure her?” Stray felt her other hand clench into a fist- she was supposed to be a chatelaine, not a doxy from some flesh house- but her reaction seemed only to amuse Shaw. His smile widened as she glowered, and Emmalaine’s followed suit. “You must have found her in a very fine establishment,” he was saying, “And you must have paid a fortune to procure such innocent skin. Those breasts, that back-side, she’s quite exquisite. Please, tell me, where is she from? Inyayo? Madrassa?” His grin widened. “Or did you just find her at the side of the road?”

Logan’s tone was brusque. “She is without price,” he said flatly, speaking over the nobleman. “And she was found in no house but her family’s. She travels with me now, that is all you need know of her.”

And he made a show of standing in front of Stray, blocking her from Shaw’s view, teeth drawn back and visible

Apparently it was effective because Shaw finally turned his gaze from Stray towards a smiling Emmalaine.

“So that’s the way of things, my pet,” Shaw said, his gaze still speculative. For one horrible moment Stray felt like a slab of meat at a butcher’s table, but then Logan’s hand curled around her waist and the feeling lessened. So long as she was with her Sunlight Lock she knew she would be fine. “She could do better, my dear,” Shaw was telling Emmalaine, “Much, much better. But Spring Maids and their wolves won’t be parted, every old maid knows that.”

Emmalaine’s smile was pure venom. “That, my love, remains to be seen.”

And with that cryptic- and frankly worrying- statement the groom and bride-to-be walked back into their manor house, effectively dismissing the Company of Miracles.

As Stray watched them go it occurred to her that Mistress Gold’s spite might be the least of her problems-

And by the look of him the wolf in Logan agreed.