I felt the words like a blow I’d been bracing for without realizing it.
My dad’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it softened, just a fraction.
“There will be no such foolishness,” he said, his voice calm but carrying unmistakable authority. “Not from me or from anyone who claims to act in my name.”
Caleb’s shoulders eased, almost imperceptibly.
“We have more important matters at hand,” my dad went on. “Whatever Malore’s failures were, they belong to the past. I won’t let them dictate the future. But it appears that the Priestess wants to repeat them.”
Something shifted then, subtle but undeniable. The air felt less taut, less poised on the edge of something sharp.
“You’re not seeking dominance,” Caleb said slowly. “Even now.”
My dad shook his head. “I never was.”
I saw it then, clear as day. Not just recognition, but respect. Caleb wasn’t seeing the son Malore had rejected. He was seeing the leader my dad had chosen not to become in the way the clan demanded, and understanding, perhaps for the first time, that restraint and refusal weren’t weakness at all.
It was leadership.
“The forests won’t heal if we repeat old mistakes,” my dad continued. “We need cooperation, not hierarchy.”
Caleb nodded again, more firmly this time. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
I exhaled slowly, the breath shaking a little as it left me.
Keegan’s thumb brushed reassuringly against my back.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“I think so,” I whispered. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I,” he replied softly. “But I’m not surprised.”
My dad turned then, finally looking at me, his expression warm and steady in a way that made my throat tighten.
“You’ve done well,” he said. “Bringing people together like this isn’t easy.”
“I’m not sure it’s done yet,” I admitted. “And it was the Academy, not me.”
He smiled faintly.
Caleb glanced between us, something thoughtful passing over his features.
“You carry both sides of this,” he said to me. “Witch and shifter. Stonewick and the Wilds.”
“I didn’t really plan on it,” I said wryly.
“Few leaders do,” he replied.
Leader.
The word landed differently this time.
As the conversation shifted toward logistics and boundaries and the careful work of preventing escalation, I stood there listening, watching my dad speak with calm authority, watching Caleb respond not with challenge but with consideration.
And I realized something that sent a quiet shiver through me.
This wasn’t about Malore anymore.
