The shadows around me spike, going sharp and cold. One knocks over the salt.
"Well that's not ideal." I put a hand on the shadows and they warm slightly under my touch. "How much do they know?"
"Everything. Your healing, your location, your..." He glances at Ruvan. "Affiliations."
"You mean that I'm living with the Shadow Guild and teaching them about vegetables?" The shadows are vibrating now. "Yes, I can see how that might upset people who think magic should stay in its proper boxes."
"They're planning something called a Cleansing."
The shadows explode outward, forming a complete barrier between me and everyone else. Can't see through them, just darkness. My breath comes out in little puffs.
"I can't see through you. Move please, this is important." They don't move. If anything, they get thicker. One pats my head. "Thank you but I need to see what's happening."
"They consider you corrupted," Arthur continues, his voice muffled. Someone drops their fork. "Light magic tainted by shadow influence. They want to purify you."
"That sounds unpleasant." I'm still trying to see through my protective shadow barrier. One creates a tiny window at eye level. "Thank you. What does purification involve exactly?"
"Death. Usually. Eventually. After they try to burn the corruption out."
The shadows are making sounds now. Low rumbling like distant thunder. One wraps around my wrist.
"Right. Well." I push at the shadows until they reluctantly part enough for me to see everyone frozen mid-bite. "Sit up straight, Finn, you'll get indigestion slouching like that. And you—" I point at the nervous Tide Runner, "you haven't touched your vegetables. You need vitamins. When's the last time you had actual vegetables?"
He stares at me, then slowly takes a bite of carrots. They crunch loudly.
"How did you survive?" The question comes out smaller than intended. "That night. You were supposed to be dead."
"I was already involved with the Tide Runners." He's not eating, just pushing food around. Still with the wrong fork. "Through my water magic. The attack—it was targeting me too. As an unregistered magic user. When I realized they were coming for both of us, I had to choose."
"So you chose to let me think you were dead."
"I chose to keep you safe."
"By letting me think I killed you." The shadows are practically vibrating now. "By letting me carry that for six years."
"It was the only way—"
"I lit candles for you." My voice cracks completely. Someone shifts uncomfortably. "Every week. Talked to your grave about my terrible paintings and Mrs. Harwicke's nose and how I couldn't afford proper brushes. Remember when you said I should just paint everyone's nose the same? Said nobody would notice?"
"Livvy—"
"It wasn't even your grave!" The shadows spike again, one knocking the butter dish off the table. "I was talking to empty dirt!"
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He looks exhausted suddenly, older than twenty-four. "But they would have killed you. The Radiant Court, the Registration Bureau, someone. Your light magic, unregistered, that powerful? You were a target from the moment it manifested."
"So you just decided to be dead? Without asking? Without letting me choose?"
"You were twenty-one. You painted flowers and worried about people's feelings. You once cried because you stepped on a snail." His voice goes soft. "How could I let you choose between your life and mine?"
The shadows soften slightly. Traitors. One pats my shoulder.
"Your boots still have holes," I say, because emotions are hard and footwear is practical.
"That's not important right now."
"It's winter. Frozen feet affect combat efficiency. And you get chilblains. Remember when you got chilblains that one winter? Your feet swelled up and Mother made you soak them in warm water? You complained the entire time but you did it anyway because she made you hot chocolate after—" I stop. Can't talk about Mother. Not now.
He almost smiles. "Still worried about everyone's wellbeing."
