Page 22

“You’re late.”

“Got caught up gathering.”

“Everything okay?”

He smiled. Forced it to his lips. “Yeah. Just the woods being moody again.”

She watched him a beat longer, as if trying to read past the mask.

Then nodded.

“Breakfast is on the stove,” she said, standing. “And the pup ate twice. Probably thinks you’re slacking.”

He chuckled, stepping inside. “Good thing I’ve got backup now.”

Their eyes met again.

And for a second, everything else—Garrick, the woods, the warnings—faded into the soft thrum of something warmer.

But Rollo said nothing.

Not about the encounter. Not about the danger. Because for now, he just wanted one morning where the world didn’t crack beneath his feet.

11

DELILAH

The apothecary smelled different today.

Less like sage and lavender, and more like unease.

Delilah stood at the front counter, hands wrist-deep in a bowl of feverfew and powdered agate, stirring clockwise like Wren had taught her. The potion didn’t respond like it usually did. Instead of glowing softly, it flickered—erratic and stubborn.

“Figures,” Delilah muttered, wiping her fingers on a cloth. “The magic’s got attitude now too.”

Behind her, Wren chuckled from her rocker near the hearth. She was wrapped in her thickest wool shawl, one hand curled around a mug of bone broth tea, the other lazily stroking Thistle’s ears. The fox’s eyes were slits of sleepy contentment.

“You’re stirring like you’re mad at the herbs,” Wren said, voice scratchy but amused.

“Iammad at them.”

Wren tilted her head. “Is it really the herbs you’re mad at, or is it Rollo again?”

Delilah stilled.

“I didn’t say it was Rollo.”

“You didn’t have to,” Wren replied, sipping her tea. “You’ve had that stormcloud between your brows since he carried you got back this morning.”

Delilah turned around, leaning back against the counter. No I haven’t.”

“Yes it is. Ever since he took care of you after you exhausted yourself, you’ve been hot and cold. You looked like death, and he looked like he’d wrestled a mountain bear to get you out of the woods and he did just that.”

She sighed. “That’s the problem.”

“What? That he cares?”

“That he stillcan.” Delilah pressed her hands against the cool wood counter. “I’m not sure I know how to let him. Not again.”