She didn't need some conspiracy to explain why things went wrong sometimes.
The door chimed. Frigid air rushed in along with Twyla Honeytree, looking far too awake for this early in the morning.
"We're not open yet," Maeve said without turning around.
"Good thing I'm not a customer." Twyla moved to the bar, setting down a basket that smelled like fresh pastries. "Brought you breakfast. You look like you need it."
"I'm fine."
"You're standing in front of a cold fireplace burning something at dawn." Twyla came around the bar, studying the ashes. "That doesn't scream fine."
"It's nothing." Maeve turned away, grabbing a broom to deal with the shattered coffee cup. "Just junk mail."
"Junk mail that came by private courier?" Twyla's light brown eyes gleamed with that knowing look that made Maeve want to throw her out. "I saw him leaving. Looked nervous."
"Because he delivered bad news."
"What kind of bad news?"
Maeve swept up ceramic shards with more force than necessary. "The kind I don't want to talk about."
"Maeve—"
"I said I don't want to talk about it." She dumped the broken cup in the trash, setting the broom aside. "Whatever you're sensing, whatever gossip you're hoping to dig up, go find it somewhere else."
Twyla didn't move. Just stood there with her wheat-colored hair perfect despite the wind and her expression gentle in a way that was somehow worse than her usual meddling.
"Something's brewing," she said quietly. "I can feel it. The Veil's humming, magic's restless, and you're burning letters at dawn. That's not nothing."
"It's family business." Maeve grabbed her coffee pot, pouring a fresh cup with hands that wanted to shake. "My uncle reaching out after ten years of silence. Demanding I attend some pride gathering like I'm still part of his world."
"Hector." Twyla's voice hardened. "He's the one who sent the letter?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows him." Twyla leaned against the bar. "Traditional. Controlling. A lion who thinks females should beseen and not heard. He's the reason you and Callum left, isn't he?"
"Part of it." Maeve sipped her coffee, needing the warmth. "He fought every change. Made life miserable for anyone who disagreed with him. When Callum and I left, we figured he'd stay bitter and we'd stay gone. That was supposed to be the end of it."
"Except now he's reaching out."
"Now he's apparently the alpha of the Cross Pride." Maeve's jaw tightened. "Which means he's got authority I didn't think he'd ever earn. And he's using it to summon me like I owe him something."
Twyla was quiet for a moment, her fae senses reading currents Maeve couldn't see. "You're not going."
"Hell no, I'm not going."
"Good." Twyla picked up a pastry, breaking it in half and offering Maeve a piece. "But burning the letter won't make him go away."
"It made me feel better."
"Did it?" Twyla tilted her head.
Maeve turned away, not wanting Twyla to read too much. Her lioness was uneasy, had been since opening that letter. Something about Hector's timing felt calculated. His sudden interest in her tavern felt pointed.
But that was paranoia talking. Had to be.
"He can't touch me here," Maeve said. "Hollow Oak's not pride territory. The Council governs, not him. Whatever authority he thinks he has stops at the Veil."
