I’ll return before he wakes,she told herself, though a part of her wondered if she truly believed it.
The keep and village faded behind her as she entered the trees. The forest closed around her, familiar and welcoming. Even in the darkness, she walked with sure steps, knowing each path, each bend of tree and rise of stone. Branches heavy with snow bowed above her, letting stray flakes fall against hercheeks, but she did not falter. The woods were her second home, as much a part of her as the breath in her lungs.
Here, she never lost her way. Here, she belonged.
But tonight, she did not come for comfort. She came for answers from the woman who had set all of this into motion.
Her mother.
The forest stretched silent around her, heavy with snow and shadow. Each step she took pressed softly into the drifts, her breath the only sound beyond the occasional crack of ice slipping from a branch. A fox darted across her path, pausing long enough to glance back at her before vanishing into the undergrowth. An owl shifted high above, its wings brushing the air with a muted whisper. Even the smallest creatures seemed alert, as if listening.
Fawn slowed, her pulse quickening with unease. The silence deepened, weighted, as though the woods themselves held their breath.
She stopped, drawing in one steadying breath, then another.
“I know you received my request to see you, Mum,” she called softly into the darkness, her voice carrying through the trees. “Show yourself.”
A shape stirred among the shadows, and then her mother stepped into the dim light, her dark green cloak seeming to grow from the forest itself. Theodora’s eyes, sharp and unreadable, glimmered as she studied her daughter.
“You waste your innate skill, Fawn,” she said, her tone edged with disappointment. “All your care poured into foxes and birds, when you could be shaping power far greater.”
Fawn bristled, lifting her chin. “The forest creatures need me. They trust me. And I will not apologize for it.”
Her mother’s lips curved faintly, though no warmth touched her eyes. “I had nothing to do with the sheep slaughter. Believethat, daughter, if you believe nothing else. Simon was not with me.”
Fawn’s heart eased, though only slightly. She wanted to believe her—needed to—but the unease remained. Theodora had kept too many secrets, played too many games with the truth.
Fawn folded her arms, refusing to be sidetracked. “If you had nothing to do with the slaughter, then who did? Do you know, Mum? Because I’ll not let Rhodes or his men destroy wolves that had no part in it.”
Theodora’s brow furrowed, her cloak rustling as she drew it tighter against the cold. “I swear to you, Fawn, I had no hand in that blood and Simon wasn’t with me.”
Fawn searched her mother’s face, weighing her words, but saw no deception there. “Then you must know who was behind it. You speak of darkness and danger, yet you won’t say what. Why won’t you tell me?”
A long silence hung between them, broken only by the snap of a branch deep in the forest.
Theodora’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Because I am not certain. And I will not speak of what I cannot yet prove. If I am wrong, I could ruin what may yet turn out to be perfect.”
Fawn’s temper flared hot, the cold forgotten. “Perfect? You warned me away from Rhodes, as though he were a plague. Why, Mum? What do you see in him that I don’t?”
Theodora’s eyes softened but held their fear. “There is something in him I do not trust, something I cannot name until I am sure. That is why I warned you.”
Fawn shook her head, her heart hammering. “You may distrust him, but I love him. And I’ll not leave him.”
Theodora’s voice was sharp, desperate. “And when he discovers the truth about you, about the blood that runs in your veins, about the witches who came before you—what then?”
Fawn held her ground, her chin lifted. “Then he’ll know me as I am. And still, I will not walk away.”
Theodora’s eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “But what would Rhodes do, Fawn? Accept you or burn you at the stake as others would?”
Fawn drew herself tall, though her chest ached at the image. “He loves me and I trust him.”
Her mother shook her head, a shadow of worry breaking through her usual iron composure. “Love must be more than words, daughter. For a man to love a witch, his strength must be beyond measure. His loyalty unshakable. Otherwise, all will crumble.”
Fawn’s brow furrowed. “What of my sisters? How did their husbands take the truth? Or do they even know?”
Theodora’s features softened. “They wed good men. Men strong of heart, who saw the worth of their wives beyond the skill in their blood. It is why they thrive now.”
“Yet you fear Rhodes is not like those men,” Fawn pressed, voice trembling with both defiance and desperation. “You chose him for me. Did you make a mistake?”
