"I know." She tried to pull them back but they resisted. "I'm trying to—they won't?—"
"It's okay." He held very still, letting the darkness wrap around him without flinching. "I'm okay."
"They've never done this." Her words came out slightly shaky. "Protected someone else. They only protect me."
Her shadows finally loosened, retreating slowly back to her, but traces of them lingered on Tristan's skin like they were reluctant to let go entirely.
She understood the feeling.
"That wind wasn't natural," Tristan said, rising to examine the broken window. Glass crunched under his boots.
"No. It was the same magic that's been interfering with me." Maren hugged her arms around herself. "It found us here."
"Or it's been here all along, waiting for the right moment."
"To do what?"
Tristan turned to face her, blue eyes sharp in the firelight. "To see how you'd react. To test your magic."
"Or to test yours."
They stared at each other across the cabin while wind howled outside and cold crept through the broken window.
Maren's shadows still reached toward him, thin dark threads she couldn't quite pull back. They'd made their choice, apparently.
"We should board up the window," she said finally.
"I'll handle it. You stay by the fire."
He moved closer to the door to retrieve tools, but paused beside her chair. His hand lifted, hesitated, then settled briefly on her shoulder. Warm and solid and real.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For the protection."
"I didn't do it on purpose."
"I know." His thumb brushed her collarbone once. "That's what makes it matter."
Then he was gone into the cold, leaving Maren alone with her traitorous shadows and the echo of his touch burning through her skin.
Whatever was happening between them, it had just gotten a lot more complicated.
11
TRISTAN
The cold hit Tristan like a wall the moment he stepped outside.
Wind tore at his coat, driving snow into his face with enough force to sting. He ducked his head and moved toward the small storage shed where the safe house kept emergency supplies. Boards, nails, a hammer, basic provisions for situations exactly like this.
The broken window couldn't wait until morning. Whatever had caused that wind might try again, and he wasn't about to let Maren sleep with a gaping hole in their defenses.
Theirdefenses. When had he started thinking of it that way?
He found the shed by memory more than sight, the storm reducing visibility to barely a few feet. The door stuck, frozen shut, and he had to shoulder it open with enough force to send snow cascading from the roof.
Inside, the wind's howl dimmed to a muffled roar. Tristan grabbed what he needed, working quickly despite numb fingers.
As he gathered the last things, a sound cut through the storm.
