"Did ye ever see her again?"
"Nay. I dinnae even ken where she went." Ada's voice was soft. "But I think about her sometimes. Wonder if she's still alive. If she ever thinks of me."
"She daes," Magnus said with certainty. "How could she nae?"
Ada's eyes glistened slightly. She blinked, looked away, stirred her porridge though it didn't need stirring. "This is good. The recipe. We should—we should make it again sometime."
"Aye. We should."
They finished eating slowly, neither wanting the moment to end. The fire crackled. The keep settled around them, silent and peaceful. And for the first time since Ada had arrived, Magnus felt something he hadn't expected to feel again.
Content.
Ada scraped the last of her porridge from the bowl, licked her spoon clean with an unselfconscious ease that made Magnus smile despite himself.
"What?" she asked, catching his expression.
"Naethin'. Just—ye eat like a soldier after a long march."
"I was hungry." Ada set down her bowl. "And it was good. Dinnae pretend ye werenae enjoyin' it just as much."
"I never said I wasnae."
Their eyes met across the table. Held. The moment stretched between them, warm and charged with something neither of them named.
Ada's hair had fallen forward again, a golden curtain half-hiding her face. Without thinking, Magnus reached across and tucked it gently behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek for just a breath longer than necessary.
"Magnus," Ada whispered.
He should have pulled back. Should have put distance between them again. But after their conversation earlier—after admitting his fears and hearing her promise to be patient—something had shifted. Some wall he'd been maintaining had cracked, and he found he didn't want to rebuild it.
Not tonight.
"Aye?" His voice came out rough.
Ada's cheeks flushed pink, visible even in the dim firelight. "I just—thank ye. Fer talkin' tae me. Fer nae shuttin' me out completely."
"I told ye I'd try."
"I ken. And ye are." She smiled, soft and genuine. "It means more than ye realize."
Magnus's thumb traced along her jaw, barely a whisper of touch. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm beneath his calloused fingers. "Ada, I need ye tae understand somethin'."
"What?"
"What I said before, I meant it. I'm nae good at this. At lettin' people close. At trustin'." He stopped, struggled to find the right words. "But with ye, I want tae try. I want tae believe that maybe?—"
A sharp knock at the kitchen door shattered the moment.
Magnus jerked back, his hand falling away from Ada's face. They both turned toward the sound, the spell between them broken as cleanly as snapped glass.
"Magnus?" Torvald's voice came through the heavy wood, tight with urgency. "Are ye in there?"
Magnus stood, his jaw clenching. Of course. Of course, this moment would be interrupted. "Aye. Come in."
The door swung open and Torvald stepped through, his expression grim. His gaze flicked between Magnus and Ada sitting at the worktable, took in the bowls of porridge and the intimate closeness, but he had the good sense not to comment.
"We have a problem," Torvald said. "Emergency council meetin'. Just the core members. There's a scout back with news that cannae wait until mornin'."
