"Your what?" she prompted.
"My responsibility," he said instead.
Her expression flickered with something that might have been disappointment before smoothing back to neutral. "Right. Your job."
"Maren—"
"It's fine. I understand." She looked away. "You should get some rest. I'm sure Emmett needs you for paperwork or debriefing or whatever comes after stopping supernatural threats."
Tristan wanted to correct her, wanted to explain that she was so much more than a job, more than responsibility or duty or Council orders. But the words wouldn't come, trapped behind years of loss and fear and the certainty that admitting how much he cared would somehow make it hurt worse when she inevitably left.
Instead he stood. "I'll check on you tomorrow. Make sure you're healing properly."
"Sure." Her voice had gone carefully distant. "Tomorrow."
He made it to the door before stopping. "Maren?"
"Yes?"
"Can I escort you home? When Freya clears you for travel. Make sure you're settled safely."
She smiled weakly."I'd like that."
Relief flooded through him, sharp and sweet. "Good. Then I'll be back tomorrow."
He left before he could say something he wasn't ready to admit out loud. Before he could tell her that somewhere between investigating her case and diving into a frozen lake, he'd fallen completely and terrifyingly in love with a shadow witch who deserved so much better than a broken soldier still haunted by ghosts.
Tomorrow. He'd figure out how to say it tomorrow.
35
MAREN
Maren stood on Freya's front step, bundled in a cloak that wasn't hers and boots that had been cleaned of blood she didn't remember losing.
Tristan waited at the bottom, his hands wrapped in gauze that matched the bandages around her ribs. The morning was clear and cold, the kind of winter day that made everything look sharp-edged and clean.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be." She descended carefully, ribs protesting each step. "Thank you for this. I could've walked alone but?—"
"You shouldn't have to." He fell into step beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "After everything, the least the town can do is let you come home without harassment."
They walked in silence through streets that looked different somehow. Cleaner maybe, or just less hostile. People were out clearing snow, tending shops, going about normal business. A few nodded as Maren passed. Others looked away quickly, not quite ready to meet her eyes.
But no one threw salt. No one spat curses. No one reached for weapons.
Progress.
"Emmett wants a formal statement," Tristan said as they turned toward the residential district. "About what the locket did. How it possessed people. He thinks making the details public will help ease suspicion."
"Will it?"
"Maybe. Fear's harder to maintain when you understand what caused it." He glanced at her. "But only if you're comfortable going public with everything."
"I am." Maren's cottage appeared ahead, small and isolated at the forest's edge. Exactly where she'd wanted it when she'd first arrived. Far enough from town that people could pretend she didn't exist. "The truth is better than more rumors."
They reached her gate, snow piled high against the fence. Tristan pushed it open, checking the path ahead out of habit. Always vigilant. Always prepared.
