That answer inspired no confidence whatsoever. Malachi found himself frowning once the girl had looked away, his brows drawn together with worry. She could have just lied, and while he would not have been naïve enough to believe it, it would have been less concerning than the answer she gave.

My brother, she repeated. The words echoed faintly off of cobblestone and exterior walls in the relative silence of the night.

“I see,” he nodded. He managed to smooth out his frown before she looked his way again.

It would do him no good to push her on the matter, and he had no desire to cause her discomfort.

“Well,” Malachi focused forward again, determined not to get them lost. “If you ever feel unsafe, please find me. That goes for your brother, as well.”

Not that he expected Edmund to take him up on it if he ever did. He’d accepted help so reluctantly, and Malachi was not oblivious to the fact he had finally allowed it most likely on account of his sister.

Quick to change the subject, he announced, “I have a brother too. A younger one. He is…”

The priest shot Mable an uncertain look, one brow raised.

“…Tolerable? But we’re not nearly as close as you and Eddie seem to be. Have you always gotten along so well?”