Tristan gave a short nod. “Understood.”
Tristan left by the southern path, coat pulled tight, collar up. The wind had shifted to a knife-edge cold. Frost clung to the inside of his nostrils when he inhaled.
He walked without hurrying, boots sinking deep, the world narrowed to white and gray trunks. The town came into view gradually of blurred rooftops, the faint glow of lanterns, and the darker line of the main street.
He stopped just inside the tree line.
There, under the noise of the wind and the weight of the storm, he felt it. A pull.
Not the wild, wrong tug of the curse that had twisted her magic at the stream. Not the sharp drag of the lake’s burning ice. Something quieter. A steady awareness at the edge of his perception.
He followed it with his senses the way he’d follow a thermal current in combat. Careful. Testing. It pointed toward town. Not the gate. Not the inn. West.
He let his attention sharpen.
Apothecary.
Freya’s shop glowed faintly through the storm, green-painted door barely visible. He couldn’t see inside from here, but his tiger settled like it recognized something.
She’s there.
He knew it in the same way he knew when a patrol was about to hit resistance. A bone-deep certainty with no paperwork to back it up.
He could go. Cut across the square, open that door, see her alive and upright and maybe angry as hell. His hand flexed on his coat sleeve.
She’d left quietly. That had been its own message. She needed space. Needed control over something when the rest of her life was sliding sideways under her feet.
He made himself step back into the shelter of the trees.
Snow stung his face, needling exposed skin. The storm was thickening fast, air turning heavier, sound muffled.
He watched the apothecary’s light for one slow count of ten. Then he turned away and headed for the security office instead, boots carving a clean, uncompromising line through deepening snow.
She was still in Hollow Oak. He could feel it.
28
MAREN
Sage pulled Maren upstairs to show her the flower collection she'd been organizing.
"This one's for happy," the little girl explained, holding up a dried daisy. "And this one's for brave." A sprig of lavender. "Mama says you need brave flowers right now."
"Your mama's smart." Maren sat on the floor, letting Sage arrange flowers in her lap. "What's this one for?"
"That's for when you're scared but you do it anyway." Sage placed a small bundle of rosemary carefully on Maren's knee. "Papa has one like it. From before he met Mama when he was alone."
Maren touched the rosemary gently. "Thank you, sweetheart."
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Freya appeared carrying two mugs of tea. "Sage, baby, let Maren breathe for a minute."
"But I'm teaching her about flowers."
"I can see that. You're doing excellent work." Freya handed Maren a mug. "How are you holding up?"
"Better. Clearer." Maren sipped the tea, grateful for the warmth. "I'm staying. Whatever happens with the Council, I'm done running. I have to be."
"Good. Because running never fixed anything." Freya settled against the wall, watching Sage arrange more flowers. "Kieran should be back soon. He went to check on Elias at the construction site but the storm's getting worse."
