Tristan wanted to argue, but he couldn't. She wasn't wrong. He'd seen it happen in too many places, watched fear turn reasonable people into something ugly and dangerous.
"Can I ask something?" Maren's voice pulled his attention back.
"Go ahead."
"Why did you take this assignment? Babysitting the town witch can't be high on anyone's priority list."
"It's not babysitting. It's protection." Tristan paused, choosing his words carefully. "And I took it because someoneneeded to. Because letting fear run unchecked is more dangerous than any magic I've seen."
Her silver eyes caught his ice-blue gaze and held it. The shadows around her feet stilled completely, no longer restless.
They reached her cottage as full dark settled over the woods. Warm light glowed through the windows, smoke curled from the chimney, and the whole place looked like something out of a fairy tale. Safe and separate from the world.
Maren paused at her door, turning to face him. "Do you need to check inside? Make sure I'm not harboring dark forces or plotting the town's destruction?"
6
MAREN
Maren didn't know what possessed her to make the joke.
Maybe exhaustion. Maybe defiance. Maybe just the absurdity of having a six-foot-four tiger shifter escort her home like she was precious cargo instead of a loaded weapon.
"Do you need to check inside?" she'd asked, hand on her door. "Make sure I'm not harboring dark forces or plotting the town's destruction?"
She'd expected a polite refusal. A professional decline.
Instead, Tristan's ice-blue eyes had met hers with something that looked almost like amusement.
"Yes," he'd said simply.
Now he stood in her cottage, taking up entirely too much space, while she tried to remember how to breathe normally.
Her shadows had gone completely still the moment he crossed the threshold. Not fearful. Not aggressive. Just watching with the kind of focused attention they usually reserved for threats or particularly interesting magic.
Except Tristan didn't feel like either.
"Nice place," he said, scanning the interior. "Secure wards. Good sightlines."
"Thank you?" Maren closed the door and became suddenly hyper-aware of every detail. Herbs hanging from rafters that might look sinister to the wrong eyes. Books stacked everywhere that could be grimoires or just her addiction to reading. The fireplace burning low, casting shadows that danced across walls.
Her shadows joined the dance without permission.
Tristan's gaze tracked the movement but his expression stayed neutral. "How long have you lived here?"
"Two years. Almost three." She moved toward the kitchen, needing something to do with her hands. "The cottage was abandoned when I arrived. Previous owner was a hedge witch who passed about five years ago."
"Family?"
"None that claimed the property." Maren filled a kettle from the enchanted pump, the water running clear and cold. "The Council let me have it in exchange for maintaining the wards on this section of forest."
"You do your own ward work?"
"Someone has to." She set the kettle over the fire, adding wood to build the heat. "And I'm good at it. Or I was."
She hadn’t meant for that last part to slip out.
Tristan turned from examining her bookshelves. "Was?"
