“What do you want?” I asked, voice careful now.
His gaze sharpened, as if he’d been waiting for that question. “To give you something.”
“What?”
His eyes slid to the trees again. “Not here.”
“Why?” I demanded, realizing the word came out too loud in the dream-space.
Gideon’s shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “Because I will not endanger the cottage.”
I stared at him.
My mind tried to reconcile the Gideon who had taunted and postured around Stonewick with the one standing before me now, refusing to bring trouble to my doorstep.
The two didn't fit.
He watched me work through it.
"Don’t worry. There’s nothing to romanticize," he said sharply. "This isn't generosity. It's strategy."
I blinked, and he exhaled.
"If you’re in hiding, why come at all?”
"Because time is running out."
I thought of the mirror, and before I could stop myself, I started. "The mirror showed me something.”
His expression shifted from interest to caution. "Did it."
It wasn’t a question.
My hand moved to my hip without thinking. Even here, it pulsed faintly, like the magic didn't care what plane I was on.
"She was in the library," I said. "I felt her in my cellar."
Gideon's eyes sharpened. "She can project."
"I know," I snapped. "I've experienced it. But—"
"But not like that," he finished quietly.
"How do you know?"
"Because she doesn't waste effort. If you saw her, it wasn't an accident."
Gideon took a step closer, and the air shifted.
"She wants you uncertain," he said. "Doubting your future. Your choices. Your spine."
Anger flared, quick and hot. "She doesn't get to choose who I become."
His mouth twitched. "Good. I didn’t think she’d choose for me either."
And his words hit hard, but they landed oddly.
Something in my chest loosened.
