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As her groggy mind began to clear from the dream, she realized she didn’t lie on her pallet. The scent of silk rose from beneath her and was accented by the acrid tang of candle smoke. Her forehead rested on her curled arm.

She’d fallen asleep at her sewing table.

Gisela shoved up to sitting, wincing at the crick in her neck. Sensation returned to her numb arm like hundreds of pins poking into her. She massaged her flesh and stared in dismay at the unfinished gown, creased by her slumber. Thank the saints she had not drooled all over it.

How could she have fallen asleep? She knew she couldn’t waste one moment finishing Crenardieu’s commission.

The squeaky rumble of a cart reached her from outside. The townsfolk were beginning their morning routines, which meant she had slept for quite a while.

“Stupid, stupid!” she muttered, swiping damp hair from her face. When she slid off her work stool, she caught the glisten of wax at the upper corner of her table. Overflowing from the candle holder, the wax formed a milky pool. Moments away from damaging the silk.

Lurching forward, she whipped the fabric out of harm’s way. As she moved, her foot caught the stool’s edge. With the screech of wood against wood, it tilted sideways and fell over with a thump.

Gisela groaned. She might have woken Ewan. She must work quickly, now, to stow the fabric before he came to investigate. So far, she had managed to keep the hiding place beneath the floor a secret from him. ’Twould be best if he never knew.

With clumsy hands, she folded the silk. If she damaged the expensive cloth, she’d owe Crenardieu most of her hard-earned savings. From this point forward, she must be more careful. She wouldn’t fall asleep again.

Crouching by the opening in the floor, she tucked the gown beside the cut pieces of the flowing, ankle-length cloak and the bolt of remaining silk. Just as she reached for the planks to cover the cavity, the door to her home opened.

She set down the floorboard and hurried to the door, catching it before it opened too far.

His hair an adorable mess, Ewan blinked up at her, rubbing his eyes with his fists. “Mama, I heard a noise.”

“I knocked over the wooden stool. ’Tis all. Why do you not go back to sleep?”

His sleepy gaze darkened with a frown. “When did you wake up?”

“A while ago.” Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie, either.

“Can I sit with you in your shop?”

“Mayhap this afternoon.” She gestured to his pallet. “Go on. I will wake you later.”

He slowly pivoted on his heel, as though to obey her. Before she guessed his intent, he whirled and darted past her with a cheeky giggle.

Gisela rubbed her tired brow with her hand. “Ewan!”

She knew the exact moment he saw the hole in the floor, because his footfalls slowed. Turning, she saw him crouched at the edge, peering in. He glanced back at her, his eyes shining. “’Tis a secret hiding place.”

Gisela nodded. “Now you have seen it⁠—”

“Are there dragons down there, Mama?”

The question was so unexpected, she laughed. “Nay, Button.”

His hands clenched. “Are you certain? Mayhap I should get my sword and have a look.”

“Nay, you should not.” The last thing she needed this morning was for him to scramble into the cavity and not want to come out. Knowing him, he’d claim it as his fortress. Walking past him, she knelt, picked up a plank, and slotted it back into place.

“Aw, Mama!”

Three more boards and the floor returned to normal. “There.” She brushed off her hands. Giving him a pointed look, she said, “You must not tell anyone about this hiding place, all right? ’Tis another secret you must keep. Promise me.”

Staring down at the floor, Ewan scowled. “I did not even get a good look.”

“Promise, Button.”

“All right! I promise.”