“It does,” Sorcha said firmly. “That’s why we need the Circle. We need them at Samhain to protect the festival, to make sure nothing gets through the Veil unchecked.”
Nethran sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed their words. Finally, he spoke. “You’re asking for a lot, Sorcha. Rallying the Circle isn’t a simple task, and convincing the elders to let them leave the region during this danger…”
“I know,” Sorcha said, her voice unwavering. “But it’s necessary. We can’t afford another disaster like the Festival of Light.”
Nethran’s gaze lingered on her for a long while, searching her expression. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” Sorcha said firmly. “If we don’t act now, we may not get another chance.”
Nethran sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “I’ll start reaching out to the elders. But Sorcha if we do this, there’s no turning back.”
“There won’t be,” Sorcha promised.
Nethran nodded, though the weight of their words lingered heavily in the room.
“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”
Kyron and Sorcha exchanged glances and nodded, walking together toward Sorcha’s house. Cat remained quiet, nestled in the bag he’d crawled into the moment they’d arrived back in Lumora. Sorcha hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Kyron had been walking her home regularly these past few weeks. It had become such a natural occurrence that, when they reached her door, she invited him in without hesitation.
Sorcha pushed the door open and guided Kyron inside, keeping a steady hand on his arm until he dropped heavily into the chair by the hearth. The fire was burning low, the warmth radiating throughout the room.
“I’m putting the kettle on,” she said, crossing to the small kitchen. “And I’ll find something for us to eat.”
Kyron didn’t argue. He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, letting the chair swallow him. Cat hopped out of the bag, stretched, and cautiously circled near the edge of the room not too close to Kyron but close enough to enjoy the heat.
Sorcha moved quietly around the kitchen, setting the kettle on and gathering what little she had. A small loaf of bread. A wedge of cheese. A jar of berry jam. A few apples. Nothing remarkable, but enough.
When the kettle began to hum, she poured two cups of tea and arranged the food on a small wooden tray. She carried the tray over first, setting it on the low table beside him.
Kyron blinked at it, surprised. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“You need to eat something,” she said. “Both of you.”
Kyron tore off a small bit of cheese and tossed it toward Cat. Cat sniffed, then took it delicately.
Kyron watched this with a faint tired smirk.
“That was surprisingly,” Sorcha said “Maybe he’s warming up to you.”
“Or he’s too tired to be difficult.” “Could be both.”
She handed Kyron his tea. When he reached for it, his fingers brushed hers. His touch was warm despite how drained he looked, and his thumb grazed her knuckles before he finally let go.
Sorcha sat on the floor across from him, folding her legs beneath her. The crackle of the fire filled the quiet between them.
Kyron took a sip and exhaled softly. “Thank you.” “It’s nothing,” she said, though the warmth in her
chest said otherwise.
They ate in comfortable silence as Cat settled near Sorcha but kept one wary eye on Kyron, even as he accepted the next bite of cheese he offered.
When they finished, they both stood at the same time, reaching for their cups. Sorcha laughed under her breath when they nearly bumped into each other in the small kitchen. As she stumbled Kyron steadied her by the waist. She watched as his hands lingered, warm and careful as he held her, he didn’t remove his hands until she looked up at him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, though his voice held no real regret.
She stepped aside, heart beating too fast. “You should rest,” she said.
“Let me help. I can manage a cup.”
