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her.”
    “ Sorry,” Charles says, “I didn’t know.”
    Why is he apologizing? Is it because he brought me here?
    “I’ll take care of it.” He winces at her words but recovers before she hurries from the room.
    “ What is she talking about? Why is she sending scouts out?”
    “ It’s hopefully nothing. We just want to be certain your owner isn’t going to be able to find you.” But he’s not looking at me as he’s speaks. It may be normal for most tarnished not to look at whom they are speaking with, but for him it seems… off. So far, he has always looked at me.
    “ What is it? Please tell me.”
    “ They could be tracking you,” Charles whispers to me.
    “ What?” My mouth goes dry. “With my ribbon?”
    “ There's a spell they can use with objects that will lead them to the person, but only if that person has an attachment to the item,” Charles says.
    “ I didn't know they could track me through it. I didn't know.” My chest seems to be caving in, piercing my heart. “They're going to find me and doing so will lead them here. How could I have left it behind?” I wrap my arms around myself.
    He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. They keep things from girls on purpose. I should have done a better job making sure you were clear of spells.”
    Maybe, but I still should have remembered it. Whether or not I knew of the spell, it was important to me. It shouldn't have been left.
    “ Are you hungry?”
    Starving. “Yes.”
    “Let’s get something to eat then. With all the running about we sometimes do, there’s always something to eat.”
    My guilt doesn't leave, but the thought of food does help distract me. “If you live underground, where do you get your food?”
    “We have some crops around outside. Plus we sell items we make so we can purchase some of what we need. Really, we’re not much different from other tarnished who don’t live in a warlock’s house. Only we try to stay hidden and not let the warlocks know we’ve gathered into groups.”
    My body protests my standing, the pack heavy on my shoulders as we return through the hall. The cramped and rocky-ceiling presses in on me. There has to be something else to focus on. The only other thing is the back of Charles's head, so I focus that. What color of hair would he have if he hadn’t been tarnished? What would he be like if he hadn’t been tarnished? Would he still have developed the need to help people like me, or would he have become cruel like most other warlocks? Is it the magic that makes the difference, or is it something else?
    He leads me into another room with several tables and lots of chairs. The scent of fresh bread permeates the room. Suddenly, I’m ravenous instead of sleepy. He motions for me to sit at one of the tables. While I pick a seat, I keep my head lowered but watch as he dishes some food from off a counter next to the stove. He comes over and places a slab of cheese, a loaf of bread, a cup of water, and a bowl of small tomatoes on the table before sitting across from me. Those arms can certainly carry a lot.
    He slices the bread and cheese, then hands them to me before making himself a plate.
    Before biting into the bread I ask, “Have you always lived here?”
    “ What, underground?”
    I nod, mouth full of soft, chewy bread.
    “No. We’ve been here a little while, about two years now. There are places like this all over Chardonia, places where we can hide. We use them as needed and abandon them when needed.”
    “ Abandon because warlocks discover them?” I take a bite of cheese. It's creamier than I’m used to, smooth.
    “ Yes. Mostly law officers, though they aren’t the real problem.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ Law officers tend to be warlocks who have enough magic to be in a good position, but just barely. They don’t usually know enough magic to be more trouble than we can handle.”
    And yet, I’ve always been so frightened of them. “Who does bring more