“Yes,” I said. And then, because there was no point pretending otherwise, “No. I didn’t forget. I just… can’t leave yet.”
She studied me for a moment and nodded toward the chairs again.
“All right,” she said. “Come back in.”
I didn’t sit right away. I stood near the table, arms folded loosely, my weight shifting from one foot to the other as I searched for the right place to begin.
“You’re holding something back,” I said finally.
Luna didn’t flinch. She didn’t deny it either. She set aside the yarn she’d been pretending to organize and rested her hands on the counter.
“Maeve,” she said carefully, “I’ve already told you—”
“I know what you’ve told me,” I interrupted, softer than my words suggested. “And I know when someone’s circling the truth instead of standing in it.”
Her mouth curved faintly. “You always did have a good eye for patterns, just like Gideon.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said.
“No,” she agreed.
I took a breath and stepped closer, lowering my voice without meaning to.
“When I first met you, you told me your family wasn’t thrilled with your lack of magical prowess. That you took over the shop because knitting was… safe. Acceptable. A compromise.”
Her gaze flickered, just for a moment.
“But that’s not the Luna I see,” I continued. “You notice too much. You understand too much. You’ve been too calm about Gideon from the start. And you’re not surprised by what’s happening now.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if bracing herself.
“I don’t believe,” I said gently but firmly, “that you ended up here because you lacked magic. I saw you in the woods when I first came here, leading a group of thread witches.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and humming.
Luna exhaled slowly and gestured toward the chairs.
“You should sit,” she said.
I did.
She remained standing, one hand resting on the counter, the other curling loosely at her side. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. It wasn’t cold or pointed, but the tone was weighted, as if she’d set something heavy down between us.
“My family wasn’t disappointed because I lacked magic,” she said. “They were disappointed because I refused to use it the way they wanted.”
My pulse kicked up. “Which was?”
She hesitated, looking directly at me. “Shadowick.”
The words skidded across my skin like a fire about to be set, but I didn’t say a word.
“They wanted me trained there,” Luna continued. “Raised there. Taught how to move between influence and control. How to bind, how to persuade, how to make power… orderly.”
I swallowed. “And you said no.”
“Yes,” she said. “I said no, and I left.”
Something clicked into place, slow and terrible.
