Watching.
A cold little knot tightened in my stomach.
Shadowick had taught me to recognize that kind of stillness.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It was patience.
But Keegan had already stepped away, moving toward a small cluster of shifters near the inn. A few of the older clan leaders stood there with arms crossed, clearly waiting for someone to start a conversation none of them wanted to be the first to begin.
The last thing I needed was for Keegan to feel the shift in my magic and abandon the fragile calm we’d just managed to scrape together.
So I said nothing.
For now.
He reached the group and started speaking with them in that quiet, steady way of his that made people listen even when they’d arrived fully prepared not to.
I slipped away from the tea shop wall and headed toward the side of the building.
My broom leaned where it had left itself earlier, propped against the stone like a perfectly innocent object that had never once caused me a single complication in my life.
Which, of course, was a lie.
As I reached for it, Stella appeared beside me.
She wasn’t loud or dramatic in her movements, rarely was.
She was just… there.
One moment the space beside me was empty, and the next Stella stood at my shoulder like she’d stepped out of the lamplight itself.
“Ah,” she said, watching Keegan across the square with quiet interest. “Look at him.”
“Look at who?”
“The wolf is trying to keep the peace.”
“That’s Keegan for you.”
“Yes,” she said, thoughtful now. “But tonight he’s also a shepherd with a flock that doesn’t particularly want to be herded.”
“They’re shifters, orcs, and witches, not farm animals.”
She snickered. “Same general disposition.”
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
She leaned a little closer, her voice dropping just enough that it didn’t carry.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“The tea earlier.”
I frowned. “Did you put something in it?”
