“And what was the first thing Thomas Wells did?” Bram asked.
“Marched into and demanded we bind her,” Emmett said. “Again.”
“He’s not the only one.” Bram’s breath fogged hard. “Three households came by my door before sunrise. They’re scared, Emmett. They want us to act.”
“We are acting,” Emmett said. “We’ve increased patrols. We’ve moved Maren to the safe?—”
“Which she left.” Bram cut in with a sharp gesture. “On her own. Defying Council protocol, again.”
“She’s not under arrest,” Miriam reminded him. “She’s under protection.”
Bram’s hands spread in a helpless shrug. “And now she’s out there. Unstable magic. Doppelgänger loose. Wards failing. The people have had enough.”
“The people are listening to rumors and old stories,” Miriam said. “Not facts.”
“The facts are simple.” Bram’s gaze slid to Tristan. “Wherever she goes, trouble follows. Fires in her last town, now shadows here. How many incidents do we need before we stop pretending this is coincidence?”
Tristan felt the tension coil low and tight in his spine.
“You want facts?” he said.
Bram’s focus snapped to him. “By all means.”
“Fact,” Tristan said evenly. “The scorch marks at the lake didn’t match her casting pattern. I confirmed it myself.”
“You only know what she showed you.”
“Fact,” Tristan continued, ignoring the interruption, “her magic misfired at the stream, then the interference kept pulling after she cut it off. Something else was driving that reaction.”
“You have no proof?—”
“Fact,” Tristan said again, voice sharpening, “the lantern at the forge exploded twenty minutes after she passed by, not ten like your witnesses claim. I checked Silas’s timing against patrol logs.”
Bram’s eyes narrowed. “So they misremembered. Fear does that.”
“Exactly.” Tristan held his gaze. “Fear warps perception. That’s what you’re building your case on. Warped perception and an old file that already proved she was scapegoated once.”
Miriam’s attention flicked between them, expression unreadable.
“This isn’t just about old files,” Bram said. “This is about patterns. Her presence coincides with every major incident. The town can see it. Why can’t you?”
“Because I rely on evidence,” Tristan said. “Not pitchfork logic.”
Bram took a step closer. Snow crunched under his boots. “You’re too close to this.”
“Close how?” Tristan asked.
“You’ve been assigned as her guard, her escort, her… companion.” The pause was deliberate. “Your judgment is compromised.”
Tristan’s jaw ticked once. “My judgment is clear.”
“Is it?” Bram pressed. “You defend her at every turn. You argue with witnesses. You downplay risk. All because you’re what? Charmed by her shadows? Enthralled?”
Miriam sucked in a breath. “Bram.”
“Enough,” Emmett said, voice dropping.
Bram looked like he wanted to keep going but shut his mouth with an audible click.
