"I'm not?—"
"You are. I've watched you for two years, Maren. Watched you keep everyone at arm's length. Watched you build walls so high nobody could climb them." Freya's voice gentled. "And now someone's gotten through those walls and you're terrified."
Maren's throat tightened. "Of course I'm terrified. Nothing good ever comes from people getting close to me. My mother died alone. My grandmother died alone. Everyone in my bloodline who's ever loved someone has watched them suffer for it."
"Or maybe they suffered because they were alone. Because they pushed away the people who could've helped them survive." Freya placed a hand on Maren's shoulder. "Love isn't a curse, Maren. It's a choice. And it's one you get to keep making every day."
"Even when that choice hurts someone?"
"Especially then. Because living alone because you're too afraid to try hurts worse. Trust me. I know."
Small footsteps sounded from the stairs. Sage appeared in her nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Maren's here?"
"Hi, sweetheart." Maren crouched down, letting the little girl run into her arms. "I came to see you before I left."
"Left where?"
"On a trip. A long one."
Sage pulled back, her young face creasing with confusion. "But you just got here. And the shadows like it here. They told me."
"They did?"
"They're always happier when the tiger man is around." Sage patted Maren's cheek with the seriousness only a three-year-old could manage. "You should stay where the shadows are happy. That's where you belong."
The simple wisdom hit harder than any argument Freya could've made. Maren's shadows had been calmer aroundTristan, more settled, like they'd found something they'd been searching for. And she'd felt it too, that sense of rightness when he was near, like pieces clicking into place.
"Sage, baby, go get dressed," Freya said gently. "Give us a few more minutes."
The little girl obeyed reluctantly, casting one last look at Maren before disappearing upstairs.
Maren stood slowly, her bag of supplies feeling heavier than it should. "I can't stay. The Council meets today. Bram will push for binding or exile and Emmett can't hold him off forever."
"Then fight. Let Tristan help you fight." Freya moved to the window, checking the street outside. "You said yourself that someone activated the locket using your blood. That means whoever's behind this is still out there, still orchestrating everything. Running doesn't solve that."
"Staying doesn't solve it either."
"No. But staying means you're not alone when the next attack comes." Freya turned back to face her. "And there will be a next attack. The doppelgänger won't stop just because you left town. It'll follow you, or it'll find another target, or it'll keep wreaking havoc here using your face."
Maren hadn't thought that far ahead. Had been so focused on protecting Tristan that she hadn't considered what the construct would do without her as a convenient scapegoat. She just assumed it would follow her.
"I don't know how to fight it," she admitted quietly. "My magic feeds it. Every time I use shadow work, it gets stronger."
"Then you find another way. Use different magic. Borrow someone else's power." Freya's expression softened. "Or you accept help from people who care about you. People who have resources you don't."
"Like Tristan."
"Like Tristan. Like me. Like Moira and Lucien and everyone else in this town who doesn't believe Bram's fear-mongering." Freya pulled her into a quick hug. "Stop trying to save everyone by sacrificing yourself. That's not noble. It's just lonely."
Maren stood in the apothecary, her bag sat packed and ready. The back door waited three steps away.
She could leave. Could slip out before Tristan woke, before the Council convened, before anyone else got hurt because of her proximity.
Or she could stay. Could face whatever came next with people who'd chosen to stand beside her despite the cost.
Her shadows stirred restlessly, still reaching back toward the cabin where Tristan slept. They'd made their choice. Had wrapped around him last night like claiming, like recognition, like home.
Maybe it was time she trusted their instincts instead of her fears.
