The house ripples with a chorus of snores, not just from my father, but the lumpy shape in the sitting area. Bree slumps in the overstuffed chair, a pile of muscle and thin blankets. His dark hair is still closely shaved in the army style and there are scars on his arms and face, testaments to his time fighting. He must’ve lost a bet with Tramy, who tosses and turns up in my cot. Shade is nowhere to be seen, but he’s never been one for sleep. Probably out prowling the village, looking up old girlfriends.

“Rise and shine.” I laugh, ripping the blanket off Bree in a smooth motion.

He crashes to the floor, probably hurting the floor more than himself, and rolls to a stop at my feet. For half a second, it looks like he might fall back asleep.

Then he blinks at me, bleary-eyed and confused. In short, his usual self. “Mare?”

“Shut your face, Bree, people are trying to sleep!” Tramy groans in the dark.

“ALL OF YOU, QUIET!” Dad roars from his bedroom, making us all jump.

I never realized how much I missed this. Bree blinks the sleep from his eyes and hugs me to him, laughing deep in his chest. A nearby thunk announces Tramy as he jumps from the upper loft, landing beside us on nimble feet.

“It’s Mare!” he shouts, pulling me up from the floor and into his arms. He’s thinner than Bree, but not the weedy string bean I remember. There are hard knots of muscle under my hands; the last few years have not been easy for him.

“Good to see you, Tramy,” I breathe against him, feeling like I might burst.

The bedroom door bangs open, revealing Mom in a tattered bathrobe. She opens her mouth to scold the boys, but the sight of me kills her words. Instead, she smiles and claps her hands together. “Oh, you’ve finally come to visit!”

Dad follows her, wheezing and wheeling his chair into the main room. Gisa is the last to wake up, but she only pokes her head out over the loft ledge, looking down.

Tramy finally lets me go, putting me back down next to Cal, who’s doing a wonderful job looking awkward and out of place.

“Heard you caved and got a job,” Tramy teases, poking me in the ribs.

Bree chuckles, ruffling my hair. “The army wouldn’t want her anyway, she’d rob her legion blind.”

I shove him with a smile. “Seems the army doesn’t want you either. Discharged, eh?”

Dad answers for them, wheeling forward. “Some lottery, the letter said. Won an honorable discharge for the Barrow boys. Full pension too.” I can tell he doesn’t believe a word of it, but Dad doesn’t press the subject. Mom, on the other hand, eats it right up.

“Brilliant, isn’t it? The government finally doing something for us,” she says, kissing Bree on the cheek. “And now you, with a job.” The pride radiates off her like I’ve never seen—usually she saves all of it for Gisa. She’s proud of a lie. “It’s about time this family came into some luck.”

Up above us, Gisa scoffs. I don’t blame her. My luck broke her hand and her future. “Yes, we’re very lucky,” she huffs, finally moving to join us.

Her going is slow, moving down the ladder with one hand. When she reaches the floor, I can see her splint is wrapped in colored cloth. With a pang of sadness, I realize it’s a piece of her beautiful embroidery that will never be finished.

I reach out to hug her but she pulls away, her eyes on Cal. She seems to be the only one to notice him. “Who’s that?”

Flushing, I realize I’ve almost forgotten him completely. “Oh, this is Cal. He’s another servant up at the Hall with me.”

“Hi,” he manages, giving a stupid, little wave.

Mom giggles like a schoolgirl and waves back, her gaze lingering on his muscled arms. But Dad and my brothers aren’t so charmed.

“You’re not from these parts,” Dad growls, staring at Cal like he’s some kind of bug. “I can smell it on you.”

“That’s just the Hall, Dad—” I protest, but Cal cuts me off.

“I’m from Harbor Bay,” he says, making sure to drop his r’s in the usual Harbor accent. “I started serving at Ocean Hill, the royal residence out there, and now I travel with the pack when they move.” He glances at me sideways, a knowing look in his eye. “A lot of the servants do that.”

Mom draws a rattled breath and reaches for my arm. “Will you? Do you have to go with those people when they leave?”

I want to tell them that I didn’t choose this, that I’m not walking away willingly. But I have to lie, for their sake. “It was the only position they had. Besides, it’s good money.”