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She stilled. “No. You don’t.”

He grimaced. “Fair.”

“But I don’t deserve you either,” she said, meeting his gaze. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

She leaned forward again, pressing her lips to his temple. “That we choose each other. Even when it’s hard.”

His chest ached—not from the wound, but from everything that lived beneath it.

“Delilah…”

She looked at him, open and waiting.

“I love you,” he said, voice thick. “I never stopped.”

Tears welled again in her eyes, but she smiled. And for a moment, everything else faded. The forest. The war stirring in the shadows. The pain.

All that remained was her.

And the home he’d never really lost, not as long as she still held his hand.

27

DELILAH

The sun rose soft and pink over Celestial Pines, dusting the mountaintops in honey light. A gentle fog clung to the hollows, reluctant to let go of the night. Birdsong filtered through the half-open shutters of the apothecary, and the smell of wild mint and clover tea filled the air.

Delilah stood at the basin, rolling the stiffness from her shoulders. Her hands ached from channeling too much magic too fast, but she didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

Rollo was alive.

Sleeping, but alive. He hadn’t stirred much since waking the night before, but his pulse had steadied. The poison had set into his bloodstream like tar, clinging in a way that made the healing slower than it should have been.

Still, he was breathing.

And that was more than she could’ve asked for yesterday.

She wrapped the sachets in linen bundles, humming low under her breath. The apothecary smelled like sage smoke and beeswax and just a hint of lemon balm—the kind of scent that made her think of safety. Of home.

Wren had stirred earlier, enough to drink half a mug of enchanted elderflower tea before mumbling something about fae taxes and falling back asleep.

A knock at the back door pulled Delilah from her thoughts.

Junie Bell poked her head in, curls piled on top of her head in a chaotic bun, a strand of orange ribbon tangled somewhere near her temple and her cheeks already flushed from either the spring wind or the stress of organizing too many townsfolk.

“You still alive in here?” she called, grinning as she stepped into the apothecary’s warm hearth scent.

“Barely,” Delilah said, wiping her hands on her apron and flicking a bit of dried lavender off her wrist.

Junie had been her best friend once—back when moonvine wreaths and first crushes felt like the world’s biggest worries. They’d grown apart when Delilah left for Salem, but the bond hadn’t unraveled completely. And now, with everything stirring under the surface of Celestial Pines, it was slowly stitching back together.

“Good,” Junie said, rolling her eyes with fondness. “Missy’s got the charm rings laid out on the town green. Said if you don’t come now, she’ll assign someone else to the root protection sets and make you do the last-minute dress blessing.”

Delilah groaned. “She wouldn’t.”

Junie smirked. “Oh, shewould.You know Missy gets twitchy without full control of the ceremonial layout.”