"We need to check something," he said, standing and picking me up in one smooth motion. "Remember the mark? The cold thing that's been making trouble?"
I nodded, though the mark felt far away and unimportant compared to blocks and stories and Stormy.
He carried me to the mirror—the tall one by the wardrobe—and set me down facing away from it. "I need to look at your back, okay? Just for a moment."
"Okay," I agreed, because Daddy could look at whatever he wanted. That was part of the rules—Daddy takes care of me, makes sure I'm healthy and safe.
He lifted the back of my dress carefully, and through the feelings-connection, I felt his shock like sunshine breakingthrough clouds. Not bad shock—good shock, the kind that comes with presents you didn't expect.
"Wren, look," he said, turning me so I could see the mirror, still holding my dress up.
I tried to understand what I was seeing. My back looked like my back, except there was a black thing between my shoulders that I remembered being bigger. Now it was small, like someone had shrunk it. The scary tendrils that had been reaching everywhere were pulling back, curling in on themselves like dying plants.
"Is that good?" I asked, not really understanding but picking up on Daddy's relief.
"That's very good." He let my dress fall, then picked me up again, spinning me in a circle that made me giggle. "That's very, very good."
"Did I do something right?"
"You did everything right." He pressed his forehead to mine, and we just breathed together for a moment. "You've been so brave, little one. So perfect. The mark is starving because you're too pure for it to feed on."
I didn't understand about marks eating or being pure, but Daddy was smiling now—really smiling, not the careful one he'd been wearing all morning—and that was what mattered.
"How many more days?" I asked, because even Little Me had absorbed that we were counting days for something important.
"Maybe two or three more. Just to be safe. To make sure it's weak enough that it can't hurt you anymore."
"Then what?"
His hand stroked my hair, and this time it didn't shake. "Then you come back to being Big for a little while. We do some important grown-up things. And then . . ." He paused, and through the connection I felt anticipation and nervousness andwant all tangled together. "Then Daddy gets to show you how much he loves his little one."
I didn't understand the weight in those words, the promise, the hunger barely held in check. But I understood that Daddy loved me, and that was everything.
"Love Daddy too," I said, hugging him tight with Stormy squished between us. "Even when he's sad at windows."
He laughed, real and bright. "Especially then?"
"Especially then," I agreed, though I wasn't sure what especially meant. It sounded right, though. Important and true, like a promise I'd keep even when I was Big again.
He carried me back to my blocks, setting me down gentle as always. But this time when he sat beside me to help build, the desperate tension was gone. Still there, lurking at the edges, but contained now. Manageable, because we could see the end coming.
"Three more blocks and it'll be taller than me!" I announced, carefully balancing a blue rectangle on top.
"Taller than Little You," he corrected with a smile. "Big You would need a lot more blocks."
I considered this seriously. "Big Me sounds very tall."
"Perfect height," he said, and something in his voice made the squirmy feelings return for a moment before settling. "Absolutely perfect."
We built the tower together, Daddy and me and Stormy supervising, and even though the mark pulsed cold sometimes, trying to make things scary, it felt smaller each time. Like an echo getting quieter, a shadow getting paler, a monster learning it had already lost.
I was winning just by being Little. Just by trusting Daddy. Just by letting myself be small and safe and his.
Sometimes the best way to fight was not to fight at all.
Chapter 6
Consciousnessreturnedlikelayersof gauze being peeled away one by one—first awareness of my body in the bed, then memory of where I was, then the understanding that the thoughts forming in my head were complete, complex, unmistakably adult.
