Page 65

Just them.

30

ROLLO

Rollo hadn’t knocked on the apothecary’s front door in years. Not properly, anyway.

He stood on the front step now, heart drumming harder than it had during any of his fights with Garrick or ever before. Harder than the moment Delilah had poured her magic into his dying body. It was a different kind of vulnerable—one that didn’t come with claws or blood, but something deeper.

He ran a hand over the scruff on his face and adjusted the collar of his shirt, then knocked twice.

A pause. Then, from inside: “It’s open, bear. Don’t make me rise from bed to coddle your manners.”

He cracked a small smile and pushed the door open.

The scent inside was familiar and grounding—mugwort, lemon balm, a hint of dried sage. The hearth crackled low. Wren sat in her cushioned rocker by the fire, a knit shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a cup of tea steaming in her hands. Her hair, streaked silver and wild as ever, had a sprig of blooming violet tucked behind one ear.

She didn’t look frail today. She looked watchful.

“Wren,” he said quietly.

She didn’t glance up. “I already know what you’re here for.”

“Well... I was hopin’ I could at leastsayit first.”

Now her eyes lifted. Sharp. Bright. Amused.

She sipped her tea. “Go on, then.”

Rollo stepped in, the door clicking soft behind him. “I know things haven’t exactly been smooth between me and Delilah. And I know I’ve hurt her before. But I?—”

“You love her,” Wren finished. “Have for years. Even when you were too scared to name it.”

He nodded. “I do.”

Silence passed between them like a current.

“I nearly lost her,” he added, voice lower. “Twice now. And the next time... I want it to be because she walked away from me with her heart whole. Not ‘cause I pushed her out or failed to stand by her.”

Wren’s mouth twitched. “You rehearsed that?”

He grinned sheepishly. “A little.”

She shook her head with fondness. “Stubborn man.”

He took a breath. “I want your blessing, Wren. I want to court her proper. Like she deserves. No more half-measures. No more runnin’. Just... me. Showin’ up.”

Wren set her tea down with a soft clink. She rose slowly, walking toward him with careful steps. She reached up—he bent slightly—and laid a wrinkled hand against his cheek.

“You already got my blessing,” she said. “She’s a storm and a bloom, that one. And you... you’re her root. Been tangled since the day you met.”

“But just so it’s said plain—” she tapped his chest with a knuckle, “—if you ever make her cry again and I ain’t the one dyin’, you’ll wish you were.”

Rollo let out a short laugh. “Fair enough.”

She smirked. “About time, bear.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”