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rays of the late-afternoon sun warmed the kitchen while a green-scented breeze wafted through the open window over the sink.
    â€œThanks!” Finn hopped up and headed over to the stove. He filled his bowl to the rim with chunks of beef and vegetables, and then topped it off with a generous dollop of mashed potatoes. He
    hesitated, then added a second spoonful. “I like this,” he said over his shoulder.
    â€œShepherd’s pie?”
    â€œNo. Well, yeah, the pie’s good.” He sat back down. “I mean, having extra.”
    â€œExtra?”
    â€œYou know. Extra food. Extra room.”
    â€œThings were a bit tight, eh? At yer aunt and uncle’s?”
    Finn nodded as he dug in. “We always had enough. But never more . Sometimes, they kind of forgot…me.”
    For a brief moment, Gideon saw the hurt dart across Finn’s face, the faint scattering of freckles across his nose standing out against his pale skin. The hurt of being the unwanted one, the mixed breed in a family of pure bloods. The additional burden on an already overburdened family.
    If I offer any comfort or sympathy, he’ll take it all wrong , Gideon thought. “Well, I’d eat hearty, if I were ye. We’ll begin training right after supper. As soon as ye’re finished washing the dishes.” He rose and carried his own bowl over to the sink. “And no bemoaning yer fate as an overworked apprentice.”
    Finn grinned and thumped his chest. “Bring it!”

    Oh, gods, I’m dying , Finn thought, leg muscles burning from fatigue. His knees folded beneath him, and he slumped to the ground. Sweat stung his eyes. I can’t do any more of those leaps . He swallowed back bile when the shepherd’s pie tried to make an encore. Bleh! Why did I eat so much at dinner? He groaned when a hand grabbed him under the arm and hauled him upright.
    â€œOn yer feet, boyo.”
    â€œOh, come on, Gideon.” Finn blew out a breath in exasperation, then pulled up his shirt and wiped his face. “I’m never going to be able to make it.” Looking around their backyard, he flung his arms apart. “And it’s getting dark out here. Can’t I just try it again tomorrow?”
    Gideon gazed up at the spring evening, delighting in the stars. “Tis a soft evening for late May, to be sure. And we’ll be out here enjoying it all night until ye make one successful jump. Just one. Then we can both retire.” He pointed to the far end of the yard. “‘Once more unto the breach,’” he quoted, then added, “Now, that would be a line from Shakespeare.”
    â€œBut I thought you hated the English,” Finn said as they walked over to the stone wall. “Being Irish and all.”
    â€œI do. But the Bard is another thing altogether.” He amended after a moment, “Except for A Midsummer Night’s Dream ”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œHis interpretation of the Fey.”
    â€œPretty bad?”
    â€œAye. Ye should read it, just to understand how mortals view us.”
    Finn nodded politely. “ Read Shakespeare—-yeah, like that’s ever going to happen .
    Standing with his back to the wall, Gideon gestured toward the house. “Aim for the space on the roof between the two dormers. What words are ye chanting?”
    â€œâ€˜I am a wind on the sea.’ But I don’t think it’s working for me.” Finn frowned. “Maybe I should try another line from the Song?”
    â€œI would.”
    Finn chewed on his lip as he pondered. The night breeze brushed past his cheek, bringing the scent of wood smoke from a neighbor’s chimney. He stared up at the roof. “‘I am a hawk on the cliff.’”
    A jolt of something zinged through the soles of his feet and moved up his legs. Taking a deep breath, he straightened, eyes fixed on the shingles. “‘I am a hawk on the cliff,’”