What I knew about elves from my younger gaming days collided with that statement and left my mind suddenly jumbled. “If I may ask, when does your kind reach their childbearing years?”

  “Depends on the elf. Anywhere between eight and twelve decades, why? Oh, so you noticed.” She chuckled. “I was blessed with children at a young age. Fraternal twins, miracle as it was.”

  The joyful news struck me like a drop of rain in the middle of a drought and buoyed my spirits despite everything I’d come to learn that day. “Eidhneán clearly takes after you. I haven’t met the other, though.”

  Quinn’s voice didn’t falter. “Eoghan was a good lad, one Flynn would have been endlessly proud of. Sadly, he followed in his father’s footsteps year before last, the misunderstanding with our human neighbors to the west my Eidhneán alluded to earlier.”

  “Oh.” My spirits experienced stall conditions and augered into the ground forthwith. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? I married his father for a reason. Even if I find myself missing him, he sold his life dearly and dozens of others survived because of that. I might mourn his loss, but I’ll praise the Goddess to my last breath that he grew into the man he was. What more could a parent want? If only I could be that brave when Aoibheann calls me home. Now finish your dinner and let’s get the tour out of the way.”

  That was the moment I realized I’d gotten so wrapped up I’d forgotten about my food. While it had certainly cooled quite a bit, the food was every bit as delicious as it had been before Aoibheann interrupted.

  It turned out that the bottom floor was used almost entirely for storage. Thanks to the mélange of scents wafting down the central staircase, I knew before we hit the first step that the second floor held the kitchens.

  “Damn, that smells good,” I commented while we climbed. “What is it?”

  “Meals for tonight’s watchstanders. If I had to guess, they’re turning leftovers into a stew.”

  “Do you think they’d spare a bowl for me if there’s more than they need? Not gonna lie, just smelling this is making me hungry.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes at me and pointed the way through the cracked double doors a short distance feet away across the landing. “No harm in asking. I swear, young humans— as you put it— eat like you have two assholes.”

  “How old do you think I am? I’m in my thirties, you know.”

  Quinn smirked. “You look remarkably young for three decades, I’ll admit. I would’ve guessed barely two.”

  We crossed into a wide circular room with the staircase at the middle. Long tables and chairs filled most of the available space and I saw the kitchens right across from the entry forming an outer ring on this side of the circle.

  One of the cooks noticed us as we approached what I figured was a serving window. Without a glance in my direction, he pointedly asked Quinn, “Do you need anything tonight, Mistress?”

  Quinn shook her head. “Samuel, Connal is the head chef overnight. Connal, Samuel is our guest for the foreseeable future by invitation of Our Lady. He’s staying across the way from Rowan.”

  That last part got his attention, and his gaze finally turned toward me. He motioned for the tray I’d brought up from my room. “I see. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Samuel.”

  Naturally, his tone of voice didn’t match his words, but I didn’t expect it to. I handed the tray over. “Likewise, Connal. Any chance you might end up more than you need for the sentries tonight? Whatever that is smells amazing.”

  Connal shrugged. “That depends on how much the day shift left us and how far we can make it stretch. Can’t really say right now. If you stop by in an hour or two, I’ll be able to tell you.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile. “I’ll stop by once we’re done. Oh, this might be a stupid question, but could you use help up here? I don’t know what my schedule is going to be, but I’d like to make myself useful if possible.”

  The elf smirked. “If you ever run into a kitchen that doesn’t need help, don’t eat there. We can always use an extra set of hands. Mostly dealing with the dishes right now, but we can always use help bringing ingredients up from storage.”

  “Cool, once I know what Quinn has for me, I’ll check back in.”

  We were on the third floor for all of fifteen seconds and Quinn was in the middle of explaining the floor was split between classrooms and bathing facilities when one of the doors farther down the inner hall opened and giggling filled the air.

  “Lorcan!” a woman on the other side of the door yelled. “Get back here before the Mistress catches you! I swear by the Goddess, put on some godsdamned clothes or I’ll hide you and give it to the tanners!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight when the little elf came sprinting down the hall as naked as the day he was born, red-faced and giggling hard enough every few breaths came with a quick snort. That said, I was adult enough to laugh on the inside, at least until the kid went sheet white and skidded to a halt the moment he saw Quinn, who merely held a finger to her lips and shooed the boy back the way he came with the other hand.

  She cast an apologetic smile in my direction, but I spoke first. “Reminds me of family reunions. Can’t keep clothes on half the little ones most of the time.”

  Her worry quickly transitioned to a smile.

  “Niall,” a different unseen caretaker said from behind the door as we passed it. “We. Do. Not. Lick. People.”

  I didn’t even bother to try to stop the snort. “Oh, the lies we tell our children.”

  Quinn chuckled with me as she led me to the schoolhouse side. We spent the next fifteen minutes walking through a few classrooms and the small library intended for the kids before moving on.

  The unique layout of the next floor caught me off-guard, if only because I couldn’t remember seeing the skybridges connecting the main space to adjacent structures from the outside. I didn’t interrupt Quinn as she pointed out everything on this level served as living quarters and instead filed the question away for later.

  As she motioned toward the nearest door, the sound of tiny running footsteps reached my ears. Quinn paused and we both looked down the hall toward the sound. I expected the footfalls to belong to another carefree child running amok, but what came around the corner was an eyes-wide, panicked little girl, maybe all of eight or nine, if that.

  “Miss— Mistress!” the girl cried out between panting breaths as she skidded to a halt.

  My skin prickled and went cold; my hand instinctively went to my pistol.

  Quinn’s eyes darted to mine and then back to the girl. We both started toward the girl with purpose just as Quinn asked, “What is it, Gráinne?”

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  “Ma— Mom needs help!”

  “Show him the way,” Quinn ordered and pushed my shoulder. I broke into a run.

  Gráinne was faster than I expected for a kid her size, but I still caught up to her within a few seconds. As much as I hated running, short distance sprints didn’t faze me much. Doors opened behind us, voices asked questions and Quinn barked answers. Ahead of us, I spotted an open door just as the one across the way opened. A curious child poked their head out only to duck back in and slam it the moment they saw me.

  First-aid training kicked in as I slowed to make the doorway without bouncing off the frame. “What’s your mom’s name?”

  Then I was in the doorway looking into the small living room. I barely heard the girl’s response, “Moira.”

  The obviously expectant mother lay curled up, arms clenched against her belly just inside the far door. Blood soaked her skirts and had started pooling around her. Fuck. My eyes darted around the room, and as I bounded toward the stricken woman, I barked to the daughter, “Clear that table.”

  Deeply suspecting what was going on, I didn’t check to see if the girl understood me before I knelt by the fallen woman. Moira’s eyes were clenched; her breathing ragged. Her skin felt clammy when I touched her arm. “Moira, I’m here to help. Quinn will be here in a few moments.”

  The elf didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence in any meaningful way. I knew I wasn’t a doctor when I rested a hand on her forehead momentarily. Even that was cool and clammy. Every part of me wanted to be wrong. I glanced over my shoulder to find the daughter lugging the last thing on the table, a large vase of flowers, across the room. Without further thought, I shifted onto my feet and thrust my hands underneath the elf. Lift with your knees, not your back, Sam.

  “Pillow. Blankets. Bandages,” I grunted as I stood. Moira felt so impossibly light in my arms. I turned to find Quinn and what felt like half the damn floor pushing in through the doorway, and in that moment part of me died inside. Between each sharp breath, Moira was repeating a single, desperate word: “No.”

  “Get Eidhneán,” Quinn ordered as I hooked a foot behind a chair leg and used my leg to move it out of the way. She cradled Moira’s head as I gently laid her atop the table. “Thank you, Sam.”

  The room turned into a whirlwind of activity and women rapidly speaking as I stepped back. All I caught from what Quinn was saying was, “too early.”

  I didn’t realize I’d kept moving until I backed into the bookcase behind me. I suddenly realized my hands were cold, but I felt like I was standing in a sauna. Images, memories flashed in front of me, memories of another life I couldn’t save in a different place, far from home.

  Keep it together, Sam. I breathed in deeply, and while I tried to steady myself and push the memories back into the box they’d escaped from, I also cursed the way I reacted to adrenaline. Cool as a cucumber when everything was on fire, but the moment there was nothing I could do about it, I’d crash hard. Keep it together.

  When the women parted around Moira, I saw the pillow under her head and I glanced about to find Gráinne standing mute a few feet from me, mouth agape with incipient horror.

  Gráinne didn’t react when I rested my hand on her shoulder and dropped to her level.

  I mustered what voice I could. “Little one, you don’t want to see this.”

  When she slowly turned her head towards mine, all I saw was the tremble in her lips, in her eyes, in the single tear hanging from the end of her nose. My heart ached in sympathy. I leaned in and found myself thankful she wrapped her arms around me.

  “Let’s go outside. Does that sound like a good idea?” I asked as I stood with her on one arm. I felt a rapid nod against my shoulder. I quickly sidled my way around the crowd, only to be stopped by the woman managing the door.

  She shouted a name I didn’t quite catch, and a few moments later someone grabbed my free arm. Turning my head to see what was going on, I realized just as they started running a wet cloth down my arm that I had quite a bit of blood on trailing down to my wrist.

  The doorkeeper leaned in. “Taking her upstairs where it’s quiet?”

  Beyond somewhere not here, my destination hadn’t occurred to me. I nodded anyway. Everything here was suddenly too loud, too stuffy.

  “Thank you.” The doorkeeper turned to the crowd immediately outside the doorway and shouted something that didn’t sound complimentary. The sea of concerned faces parted, and the doorkeeper motioned to me.

  My thoughts were so disordered that I didn’t particularly remember walking down the hallway or climbing the steps, but I did remember those two little arms wrapped around my neck, holding on like a vice as I climbed the stairs, one after the other.

  When I emerged from the stairway into the fading evening sun and a veritable wall of floral scents I nearly stumbled to a halt. From what I could see, the final floor was packed with trellises, each sporting a variety of flowering plants.

  I numbly made my way to the first bench I saw. When I sat, I glanced at the innocence in my lap as she trembled. “You’re safe here. It’s okay to cry.”

  I’m not sure how long I sat there, utterly stonefaced from my absolute refusal to let that box of nightmares open again, but I do know the only reason it remained shut was the little girl in my lap, the one who would need me there for her when her grief finally let go. My ghosts could wait, like they always have.

  By the time Quinn and another woman came up the steps, the moon and multiple light sources ensconced atop the trellises had replaced the long since set sun. The other woman quietly took a sleeping Gráinne from my numb shoulder and went back the way she came. Quinn, on the other hand, sat beside me and said nothing.

  Eventually, I managed to latch onto a thought and gave it voice. “As a soldier, you expect bad things to happen to you, to your friends. It’s different when it happens to civilians. They’re the people you’re supposed to protect.”

  Quinn laid a hand on mine and squeezed. “My husband believed much the same.”

  Her quiet words drew my attention down from the moon. “Did Moira…?”

  “Moira might yet make it. Her young one, sadly, went back to the Goddesses embrace.”

  Her pronouncement sunk in slowly. I shivered, suddenly aware of how much the temperature had dropped.

  “We appreciate what you did for Moira, Samuel.”

  I frowned. “There wasn’t anything for me to do. I didn’t do anything.”

  Quinn squeezed my hand again. “You were there, for one. Bitter pill as it may be, sometimes being there is all you can do. Still, you saved us precious time, and quite frankly, no one there at the time could have lifted her by themselves.”

  My eyes drifted skyward. “Does the father know?”

  “Kieran never knew he was a father. He stood beside my son and shared his fate. Our pregnancies are much longer than yours.”

  That statement wafted down onto the lake of misery occupying the back of my mind and I felt icy tendrils grow from its touch. “Most of the children here, their fathers are dead, aren’t they?”

  Quinn’s fingers tightening on mine provided her unspoken answer. A few heartbeats passed. “Not all of them, but too many. Those that live either work here or provide what they can.”

  The elf suddenly lurched into a coughing fit that left a trail of tiny red droplets glistening on the wood in front of us.

  “Quinn? Are you okay?” I reached out to steady her.

  “As okay as I’m going to be,” she rasped a heartbeat after several long seconds spent catching her breath. When our gazes met, one of her eyes was shockingly bloodshot. “There wasn’t time. Moira couldn’t wait. I did what I could with what little magic I have left. This is the price.”

  This time I squeezed her hands. I knew and understood without asking. Some things you just do because they’re the right thing to do, regardless of the cost. Others, you did because the price of inaction was simply too high to bear.

  “Samuel,” Quinn started and then paused to clear her throat. “The Harvesters are more than mere symbols, more than the sylvan stalkers our neighbors fear. They’re the heart of our kind, recognized by the Goddess. Under Her blessing, they serve at the end and the beginning of life.

  “Your connection to death was unmistakable when I first laid eyes upon you. It hung over you like a moonless, clouded night. What I doubted was your connection to life but tonight has shown me what lay beneath those clouds. No doubt remains. You would not grieve so over a stranger otherwise. If you want, I will speak to Rowan. I cannot speak for the Harvesters themselves, but I know that I would sleep better counting you amongst their ranks.”

  I nodded. “I appreciate the thought, but no one has really explained what the Harvesters do. I didn’t listen to my father’s advice about signing up for something I didn’t fully understand once already. I’ve long since seen the wisdom in those words.”

  As I spoke, Quinn’s lips quirked into a subtle grin. “For the young, the truth behind secondhand wisdom is seldom apparent before they should have heeded it. Before my husband’s death, the Harvesters had many responsibilities, most focused on keeping order within and without. Judiciar, soldier, sage, leader, healer, all roles the Harvesters of old filled. Now? Less than a handful survived that night, and the survivors have struggled to rebuild their numbers. The militia fills in as they can, but even their numbers are spread too thin. We simply do not have the population to protect our forest effectively, much less tend to it properly as you’ve no doubt seen.

  “In the most relevant sense, you’ll be trained in our way of fighting and expected to help keep order inside the Glade. As of late, that translates mostly to patrolling our borders, helping cull troublesome beasts, and providing meat for the settlements when needed. Thankfully, what few troublemakers persisted after my husband’s death saw the light during our last exchange with our neighbors to the west, so it is unlikely you will called upon to render judgement on anyone. Rowan can provide more specifics, but the title is entirely voluntary. You can withdraw at any time.”