Maren woke alone.
She'd heard Tristan moving around downstairs before dawn, deliberately quiet, like he was trying not to wake her. Or trying to avoid her.
The memory of last night with of his mouth on hers, his hands mapping skin, the heat between them that had felt inevitable until it wasn't came pouring over her as her body grew hot. They'd stopped before crossing the final line, but barely. And now morning had arrived with all its uncomfortable questions.
Had it been loneliness? Proximity and stress creating the illusion of connection? Or something real that neither of them knew how to handle?
She climbed down from the loft to find him at the window, already dressed, staring out at snow that had finally gentled to scattered flurries. His posture was rigid, controlled, and he didn't turn when she descended.
"Storm's breaking," he said. "We should be able to move soon."
"Do you think we should talk…"
"I made tea. It's on the stove."
The dismissal was polite but clear. Maren poured herself a cup and retreated to the other side of the cabin, giving him space he clearly needed.
They maintained distance and avoided eye contact. The easy rhythm they'd developed had vanished, replaced by awkwardness that made the small space feel even smaller.
Maren dressed quickly, braiding her hair with fingers that wanted to shake. Her shadows moved restlessly across the floor, reaching toward Tristan before retreating like they sensed the wall he'd built overnight.
"About last night," she tried again.
"We should focus on finding the locket." His voice stayed level, professional. "That's what matters right now."
"Right. Of course."
Tristan's comm unit crackled. He pulled it from his pocket, jaw tightening when he saw the caller. "Emmett."
He stepped outside to take it, closing the door firmly behind him.
Maren cleaned up breakfast with mechanical precision, trying not to think about how his hands had felt on her skin, how perfectly they'd fit together, how her shadows had wrapped around them both like they were claiming something that belonged to them.
The door opened. Tristan's expression had gone carefully blank.
"Bram's calling for a meeting. Says time's up." He moved to gather his equipment, movements sharp with tension. "We need to check in."
"Now? The storm just broke. We can finally get to the lake."
"Council orders. Emmett tried to push back but Bram's got the votes." Tristan shoved supplies into his pack with more force than necessary. "We explain about the weather keeping uslocked down, tell them about the locket lead, and hope they give us an extension."
Maren's shadows pressed close, agitated. "They're going to want me bound. Or exiled. Bram's been pushing for it since the beginning."
"Emmett's not letting that happen."
"Emmett's one vote against however many Bram's convinced."
Tristan turned to face her fully. "I won't let them bind you. No matter what the Council decides."
"You can't fight the entire Council."
"Watch me."
The fierce certainty in his voice settled something in her chest even as it terrified her. He meant it. Would actually stand against his own employers, his own community, to keep her safe.
Because of last night? Or despite it?
"We should go," she said quietly. "Before the weather turns again."
