“I’m right, aren’t I?” she pressed. Zane narrowed his eyes at her, and she crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t appreciate being manipulated. By any of you. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I’d rather face the truth than be coddled.”
“Noted.” Cas let out a quiet laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” Warmth that transformed his stern face. “Scolding us like we’re children who broke a vase.”
“Am I?” Her indignation melted into embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, you’re right.” I set down the basket to take her hand. “We should have asked what you wanted instead of deciding for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Seri knows best,” Zane drawled, hooking his arm around her shoulders. “But in my defense, my method was way more efficient than their careful deliberation.”
“Your method nearly gave me a heart attack,” Cas muttered.
“But it worked,” Zane pointed out. “No panic attack. No tears. Just our wife putting us in our place.” He winked at Seri. “Which, for the record, isincrediblyhot, you feisty ass woman.”
“Zoodle!” she gasped.
“What? It is. Right, Koa?”
“He’s not wrong.”
Her pink cheeks made something warm unfurl in my chest. The slightest compliment, the merest hint of desire, and she blushed. It was endearing and heartbreaking all at once.
“So,” she cleared her throat and changed the subject, “the curse makes people forget me?”
“It’s a creeping effect. It starts subtly. Your reflection would waver, shadows would cling to you too long. Then, gradually, people would stop noticing you. First strangers, then acquaintances. Eventually…” I couldn’t finish the thought.
“Even you three would forget me,” she said what I couldn’t.
“Never completely,” Cas disagreed. “The beloved and mate bonds would fight it, but it would be like trying to remember a dream that keeps slipping away.”
She shuddered and her fingers tightened around mine, then she nodded once, decisively.
“Good. Thank you for telling me.” She picked up the handle of the picnic basket I’d set down. “Now, can we continue our walk? I’m getting hungry.”
Just like that, she moved past it. Not ignoring the danger, but refusing to let it steal this moment from her. Fromus. Our wife, who’d endured years of abuse and isolation, who’d been siphoned of magic and starved of affection, had more strength in her little finger than most people had in their entire bodies.
Ahead of us, she paused to let a butterfly land on her outstretched finger, her face lit with wonder. The basket hung from her other hand, far too heavy for her, but she hadn’t complained once. Brumous circled her feet, his tail wagging furiously at her delight.
I found myself smiling, the weight of worry lifting from my shoulders. We’d navigated potentially treacherous emotional waters and emerged unscathed. No panic attacks. No tears. Just our remarkable wife, teaching us once again that her fragility was an illusion. Like many things in her life had been.
As we continued along the path, the trees began to thin, hinting at an opening ahead. The garden Mrs. Wentzel had mentioned must be close. I hurried to catch up with Seri and reclaimed the picnic basket.
“Let me, beloved. Save your strength for exploring.”
She didn’t protest, only slipped her hand into my free one.
“Koko? Thank you for worrying about me.” Her gray eyes held mine. “But I need you to trust me to handle things, too.”
“I’m learning to do that.” I squeezed her hand and, behind us, Zane made gagging noises.
“If you two get any sweeter, I’m going to need insulin.”
Casimir smacked the back of his head as he passed, earning an indignant, “Hey!” that echoed through the trees.
9. Inside a Poem
