Suspicion dressed up as righteousness.
I swallowed hard and looked at Stella, at the quiet way she continued pouring comfort into cracked places without demanding gratitude.
She had always united. Always soothed. Always held space when no one else wanted to.
And now, watching the way a few glances hardened toward her, I felt the sharpest question settle into me:
Was this how it began all those years ago?
Not with war.
But with whispers?
Chapter Thirty
The square had quieted, though not in the way that meant peace had actually settled in.
It was the kind of quiet that comes after people have shouted themselves out and finally realize the shouting didn’t solve anything.
A few witches lingered near the fountain with their arms folded, their expressions tight with the sort of stubborn pride that takes a while to cool. Two orcs stood a little ways off, pretending very badly not to watch them. Near the bakery, a pair of shifters leaned against the railing, shoulders still stiff but no longer squared like they were about to launch into round two.
Stonewick had cooled off a little.
The tourists wandering through town, however, looked absolutely delighted. One woman was snapping photos like she’d stumbled into the world’s most aggressive cosplay convention.
Nobody here had the heart to correct her.
She wouldn’t believe us anyway.
I could tell no one was healed yet. Not really.
Just cooled.
And right now, cooled was enough.
I leaned my shoulder against the tea shop’s old wooden and stone facade and drew in a slow breath. The bakery down the street had opened its windows, and the smell of fresh bread drifted through the square—cinnamon, butter, and something sugary that made the whole town feel softer around the edges.
For a moment, it almost felt normal.
Almost.
Keegan stood beside me, solid and unhurried, the way he always seemed to be when things around him started fraying. His eyes moved over the square, taking in one group, then another, the way someone does when they’re used to keeping track of a room.
“They’re settling,” I said.
“For the moment.”
He didn’t sound cynical, merely honest.
That was the thing about Keegan. He never pretended a problem was smaller than it was, but he also never acted like hope was a lost cause.
Across the square, an older witch pushed a steaming mug into the hands of a young orc who looked so startled he almost fumbled it.
He stared down at the cup like it might start smoking.
“Progress,” I said under my breath.
Keegan exhaled softly beside me, the sound just short of a laugh.
