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"A little."

"Do you want to tell me why?"

I looked down at my stomach. "I was telling the baby about my father."

Guy's expression softened. He rested his hand over mine. For a while, we sat quietly, listening to the music and laughter drifting from the courtyard.

Then I reached beneath my gown and took out my grandmother's compass.

The brass had darkened over the years, and a fine crack ran across one corner of the glass.

The needle still moved freely.

I'd worn it almost every day since I was sixteen.

I turned it over in my palm.

Guy glanced down.

"Thinking about Eleanor?"

I nodded.

"I was remembering the day she gave me this."

He waited.

"I was so frightened. I barely understood what was happening, and she kept telling me to run."

I traced the edge of the compass.

"I thought she was asking me to leave everything behind."

Guy slipped his arm around my shoulders.

"She was trying to keep you alive."

"I know."

I smiled faintly. "She would've had quite a few things to say about all this."

"The feast?"

"The house. The people. You."

He raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Oh, especially you."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Probably." I laughed. "She wasn't easily impressed."

"I gathered that from knowing you."

I nudged him with my shoulder. "Careful, Sheriff."

He smiled. I looked down at the compass again.