Maren caught herself against the doorframe, her shadows instinctively wrapping around the child in a protective embrace. Sage giggled, reaching up to touch the darkness that curled around her fingers like affectionate cats.
"Your shadows came to play," Sage announced seriously. "That means you're staying, right?"
"For a little while, sweetheart." Maren crouched down to Sage's level, aware of Tristan closing the door behind them and positioning himself near the window. Always watching. Always ready.
"Good. I made you something." Sage pulled away and ran to the counter, returning with a small bundle wrapped in dried grass and tied with twine. "Mama helped, but I picked the flowers."
Maren accepted the gift carefully, unwrapping it to reveal a collection of dried wildflowers arranged in a careful pattern.Lavender for calm. Chamomile for peace. Rosemary for protection.
"It's beautiful," Maren said, her throat tightening unexpectedly. "Thank you, Sage."
"They'll keep the bad dreams away. Mama said you probably have lots of bad dreams right now." Sage patted Maren's hand with the solemn confidence of someone who'd already solved the world's problems. "But flowers help. They always help."
"They do," Maren agreed, blinking against the sudden burn behind her eyes. "They really do."
Freya approached with two steaming mugs, handing one to Maren and offering the other to Tristan, who accepted with a nod of thanks. "I wanted to give you some things before you go back to the safe house. Protective herbs, teas for dreamless sleep, a few charms that might help if your magic gets pulled again."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to." Freya began gathering supplies from various shelves, her movements efficient and practiced. "But I want to. You're not what they're saying, Maren. I know that. Sage knows that. And anyone with half a brain should know it too."
Maren sank onto the stool near the counter, Sage immediately climbing up beside her to watch the shadows play across the floor. The little girl's magic responded to the darkness with green and gold sparks dancing where shadow met light.
"Your magic's getting stronger," Maren observed, watching the sparks multiply.
"Mama says I'm a late bloomer. Like flowers that wait for the right season." Sage held out her hand, letting Maren's shadows wind around her fingers. "But I think I'm growing just right."
"You are." Maren glanced at Freya, who was watching them with an expression that mixed pride and concern. "She's going to be powerful."
"Which terrifies me on a daily basis." Freya wrapped dried herbs in cloth bundles, tying them with quick, practiced knots. "But she's got a good heart. That counts for more than raw power."
"having a good heart doesn't seem to matter much if people have already decided you're dangerous." Maren let her disappointment leak out before she realized it enough to stop it.
Freya paused, her hands stilling on the herbs.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” Maren said, watching her gesture.
"Tonight was awful. I won't pretend it wasn't. But you're still here. Still standing. That counts for something."
"I'm only standing because Tristan put himself between me and a room full of people ready to act." Maren's gaze drifted to where he stood near the window, silhouetted against falling snow. "Without him, I'd be bound or exiled or worse by now."
"Then thank the Veil he's here." Freya resumed her packing. "And thank the Veil he's got the spine to stand up to an angry mob when most people would've folded."
Maren wanted to argue and say she didn’t need someone defending her existence to people who'd supposedly accepted her. But the words wouldn't come because they weren't true.
She did need protecting by someone willing to step between her and violence. The realization pressed against her pride that had kept her isolated and independent for so long.
"He's watching you," Sage whispered, leaning close like she was sharing a secret.
"He's supposed to watch me. Council orders."
"No." Sage shook her head solemnly. "He's watching you the way Papa watches Mama. Like you're important."
Heat crept up Maren's neck.
"She's right though," Freya said, not bothering to lower her voice. "Kieran looks at me the same way. Like I'm the thing worth protecting even when the world's falling apart."
Maren risked a glance toward Tristan. He was scanning the street outside, vigilant as always, but something in the set of his shoulders suggested he'd heard every word. His jaw tightened fractionally, the only indication he was listening.
