The apothecary's warmth enveloped them as Freya shut the door firmly. Sage, Freya's toddler daughter, looked up from where she'd been arranging dried flowers on the counter.
"Maren!" The little girl's face lit up. "You brought shadows!"
Despite everything, Maren felt her mouth twitch toward a smile. Sage had never been afraid of her magic. Never flinched when darkness moved where light should be.
"I brought herbs," Maren said, setting her basket on the counter. "For your mama's tea."
Sage reached out, tiny fingers brushing through one of Maren's shadows. The darkness curled around the child's hand like silk, gentle and curious.
"They like me," Sage announced proudly.
"They do," Maren agreed softly.
Freya moved to the hearth, stirring a pot that smelled of chamomile and honey. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"Liar."
Maren sank onto a stool, exhaustion hitting her all at once. "Something happened this morning. In the forest. My shadows felt it."
Freya turned, concern replacing the steel in her expression. "Felt what?"
"I don't know. A distortion. Like magic pulling wrong." Maren rubbed her temples. "And then that bottle breaks the moment I walk by, and everyone assumes?—"
"That you're dangerous." Freya's voice gentled. "I know."
"I didn't do anything."
"I know that too."
Sage toddled over, shadows still wrapped around her fingers like ribbons. The little girl patted Maren's knee with her free hand.
"Not scary," Sage said seriously. "Pretty."
Maren's throat tightened. She reached down and tucked a curl behind Sage's ear. "Thank you, sweetheart."
The apothecary door opened with a soft chime. Both women looked up as a man entered, tall and broad-shouldered, dark hair dusted with melting snow. His ice-blue eyes swept the room with the kind of assessment that spoke of military training and hard-learned caution.
Tristan Ash. The new head of security.
Maren's shadows immediately retreated, pressing so close to her body they nearly disappeared.
"Freya," Tristan said, nodding politely. His gaze shifted to Maren, expression unreadable. "Miss Pitch."
"Officer Ash," Maren said carefully.
"I need to ask you a few questions. There was an incident at Moonmirror Lake last night. Magical in nature." His tone stayed professional, but something in those blue eyes tracked every micro-expression on her face. "Where were you around midnight?"
"Home," Maren said immediately. "Asleep."
"Anyone who can verify that?"
"I live alone."
Freya stepped forward. "Tristan, if this is about those scorch marks, Maren didn't?—"
"I'm not accusing anyone." His voice stayed level. "I'm gathering information."
