He snorts, as if the idea is obvious. “Harper, I was halfway through drafting my resignation in my head whenyou folded off the island. I only paused because hunting you down seemed more productive in the moment.”
I wince. “I am sorry.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m not. Harper, you were so brave, and today? You stood in the centre of that hall and told the truth, knowing it might destroy you. That counts for a hell of a lot more.”
I swallow, throat tight.
“Unofficially, anyone with half a brain knows that without you and those ‘accidental’ gaps, we’d be neck-deep in a war nobody could win. Even politicians can recognise when they owe someone.”
“That must hurt,” I say gently. “Being indebted to the magical creature you spent a year chasing.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “It took me far too long to realise I was really just… orbiting you. Trying to keep up.” His gaze finds mine. “For the record, there is no one I won’t stand against for you. Not Meredith Jackson. Not Timothy Reep. Not the council. Not my own sector. If they come for you again, they go through me first.”
The promise lands like a spell. I flinch—not from fear, but from the part of me that still insists I am not worth this kind of loyalty.
Snack Thief clicks his beak and nuzzles my jaw, as if trying to smooth the sting.
“I don’t know what I am,” I say. The truth spills out, thin and tired. “I was Hestia. Then I was House. Now I am Harper. I have been a woman, a monster, a building, an anomaly. The Assembly stared at me like I was a bomb that might go off. Perhaps they are right.”
“They’re wrong,” Lander says.
The certainty in his tone makes me look up.
He is already watching me, leaning back against the bench, one arm stretched along the backrest behind my shoulders. Not touching, but there. His gaze is steady, unflinching.
“I have spent my life hunting dangerous magic,” he says. “I know monsters. You’re not one of them.”
“You tried very hard to kill me,” I remind him.
“Yes.” His mouth twists. “And every time our magic hit, it felt… off. Like trying to force two magnets together the wrong way. It hurt in all the wrong places.” His fingers flex on the bench. “That should have been my first clue.”
“Clue to what?” I ask, barely breathing.
“That I was fighting the wrong thing,” he says simply. “And that something in me didn’t want to hurt you, even when I thought I did.”
My heart trips. “It felt wrong to me too,” I admit. “As if the magic wanted to braid instead of clash, and we were… misusing it.”
He laughs under his breath. “Trust you to make even our weird magic sound romantic.”
“I am not romantic,” I protest weakly.
“I’ve seen the way you look at paper,” he says. “You’re absolutely romantic.”
Despite everything, a small, startled huff of laughter escapes me.
He watches my mouth as though the sound is a rare bird he doesn’t want to scare away.
“Harper?” he says quietly.
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said in the café. I want to court you.Properly. No more lies, no more hunting—just… us, if you’ll have me.” His throat works. “I know I’m late to the revelation, and you have every reason not to trust me, but?—”
“Lander,” I interrupt, because if he keeps talking I might start crying again. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met. You chased me across sectors, argued with your own council, and defended my right to exist in a room full of people who would quite happily have dismantled me to see how I work.” I swallow past the ache in my throat. “If I did not trust you at least a little, I would not be here.”
His shoulders drop, some inner tension easing. “That’s… good to hear.”
I could easily love you, Lander Kane.I do not say so—too soon—but the words I cannot speak are clear in my eyes.
