The words were quiet. Sincere. Avine looked up, startled.
“What?”
“The way you stood your ground in that Elder meeting without flinching. The way you’ve fought for this place, even when everything was going wrong. The way you haven’t broken even though anyone else would have.” His thumb brushed her cheek, featherlight. “You keep apologizing for needing help, but, Avine—you don’t have to do everything alone. Accepting help doesn’t make you weak. It makes you smart enough to know when two sets of hands are better than one.”
Her eyes burned. She blinked rapidly, fighting back the sting.
It had been years since anyone had seen her strength instead of her usefulness. Years since anyone had looked at her and seen someone worth complimenting rather than someone worth managing. Henry had appreciated her efficiency. Her colleagues had appreciated her results. But this?—
“You don’t have to do everything alone,” Theo repeated softly. His thumb traced her cheekbone. “Let people in. Let me in.”
Her hand pressed flat against his shirt. She could feel his heartbeat—fast, faster than it should be for someone standing still. Her palm absorbed his heat, the steady thump that matched the pulse hammering in her own throat.
His forehead lowered until it nearly touched hers. His breath ghosted across her lips.
“This is complicated.” She barely recognized her own voice.
“I know.”
“I don’t do complicated. Not anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
The air between them hummed with magic and want and the careful restraint of two people trying very hard not to fall.
“So why aren’t we stepping back?”
Theo’s breath caught. “I don’t know.”
Something clattered downstairs—Beck, making his presence known without entering. The sound broke the moment like glass.
They stepped apart. Slowly.
“The wards are stable.” Theo’s voice had gone carefully neutral. “The work is done.”
“Right.” Avine wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold without him. “Thank you. For all of this.”
“Avine—”
“You should go.” She said it quickly, before she could change her mind. “It’s late. You’ve been here for three days.”
He held her gaze for a beat too long. Then he turned toward the stairs.
“This isn’t finished.” He said it quietly. Not a threat. Not even a promise. A statement of fact.
Then he was gone.
SIXTEEN
THEO
The woodworking shop smelled like cedar and sawdust and the specific frustration of a man who’d been sanding the same piece of maple for an hour.
Theo’s hands moved automatically over the wood, smoothing grain that was already smooth, while his mind circled the same problem it had been circling for three days.
Avine.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dark hair. Brown eyes. The echo of her magic against his.
