His arm caught her around the waist, yanking her back from the stream's edge just as the ice gave way completely. They collided hard, his back hitting a tree while she crashed against his chest. Her shadows exploded outward instinctively, wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon.
For three heartbeats, neither of them moved.
Maren became aware of details in fragments. The solid wall of muscle at her back. The arm still locked around her waist. The way Tristan's breath came fast against her hair. His heart hammering against her shoulder blade, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.
Her shadows curled over and around them both, dark tendrils weaving between them like they were testing the connection and found it acceptable. They soothed themselves against his presence in a way that made absolutely no sense.
"You okay?" Tristan's voice came out gruff.
"Yes." Maren tried to step away but his arm tightened fractionally. "I'm okay. You can let go."
"Ice is still breaking."
She looked down. He was right. The stream continued to crack, fractures spreading wider even though her magic had stopped. Something was still active, still pulling at the ice with invisible fingers.
"That's not me," she whispered. "I'm not doing that."
"I know."
She looked at him, noticing how his ice-blue eyes tracked the patterns with intense focus, but not suspicion. Not accusation.
"You believe me," she said, not quite a question.
"Your magic stopped. The ice didn't." Tristan's gaze shifted to meet hers. "Either you're the best actress I've ever seen, or something else is using your signature as cover."
"The Council won't see it that way."
His arm finally loosened, letting her step away. "We need to figure out what's actually causing this."
Maren wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite her cloak. Her shadows retreated slowly, reluctantly, like they didn't want to leave the warmth they'd found wrapped around Tristan's solid presence.
She understood the feeling.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For not letting me fall."
"That's the job."
"Is it?" She searched his face, looking for the professional distance that should be there. Finding something more complicated instead. "Or are you just decent?"
Tristan's mouth quirked slightly, not quite a smile but close. "Can't it be both?"
Maren felt her own mouth twitch in response. "I suppose it can."
"Come on," Tristan said, nodding toward the cottage. "It's too cold to stay out here. And you promised me tea."
"I did no such thing."
"You offered tea if I got cold." He started walking, forcing her to follow or be left in the dark. "I'm cold."
"You're a tiger shifter. You barely feel temperature."
"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate warmth."
Maren found herself following him back inside, her shadows coming behind like curious children.
Tristan closed the door firmly and turned to face her. "We need to tell Emmett about this."
"And say what? That my magic misfired?"
