Page 35

I looked down at the envelope, and my breath caught. There, in neat script across the front, was not the name I had been using in Everwood.

Isolde Duskryn.

My married name, written plainly for anyone to see.

I took the ledger and signed for the letter with a steady hand, though it felt like someone else was moving my fingers. The courier took it back with a nod, glanced once more at Uldrek—still standing like a sentinel in the doorway—and quickly retreated.

Uldrek closed the door and turned to me. "Issy?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I moved to the table and set the envelope down, the parchment stark against the worn wood. I sat, my legs suddenly feeling unsteady.

Hobbie watched from across the room, still holding Ellie, who had gone quiet as if sensing the shift in the air. Uldrek remained near the door, not speaking but not moving away either.

After a long moment, I reached for the envelope, breaking the seal with my thumb. The parchment inside was heavy, official, bearing the embossed Seal of Everwood at the top.

I read aloud, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

"You are hereby summoned to appear before the Civic Council of Everwood in the matter of Duskryn v. Duskryn. Hearing to take place tomorrow morning, eighth bell."

I set the paper down, exhaling slowly.

Hobbie returned to the hearth without a word, setting Ellie back in her chair and resuming her stirring as if nothing had happened. But I could see the tension in her movements, the quick glances she cast my way.

"They took their time," Uldrek said finally, sitting across from me at the table.

"Eight days," I agreed, running my finger along the edge of the parchment. "I thought it would be sooner."

"The Council likes to be thorough. Especially with charges like these."

I looked up at him, searching his face. I wanted to find reassurance there—calm, steadiness, the quiet confidence that had grounded me so many times before. But instead, what I saw was worry. Controlled, yes, but no less real for it.

Gavriel knew. He knew where I was. Who I was with. What I was doing.

I felt the floor tilt beneath me, a subtle shift like the start of a tremor. My stomach clenched. My skin prickled. I wasn’t ready. Not really. I'd thought I was, but this was different. This was real.

What if he twisted the story before I could speak it? What if they believed him? They always had before.

"Hey." Uldrek's hand covered mine on the table, warm and steady. "Nothing's changed. The hearing is still happening. You're still protected."

"Am I?" I pulled my hand away, standing abruptly. "The charms are burning, Uldrek. He's testing the boundaries."

"And finding them solid," he countered. "Hobbie's wards are holding."

I glanced at the brownie, who grunted in affirmation without looking up from her pot.

"For now," I said quietly. "But after tomorrow? When I stand in front of the Council and tell them what he did?" I shook my head. "He won't let that go unanswered."

Uldrek stood, too, coming around the table to face me directly. "Let him try," he said, his voice low and certain. "He won't get past me. Or Hobbie. Or the wards."

"Or me," I added, surprising myself with the steel in my voice.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Especially not you."

Hobbie cleared her throat loudly. "If you're done with your dramatics, the stew's ready."

I turned to find her ladling the fragrant mixture into bowls, pointedly ignoring our conversation. Ellie was watching the process with fascination, her earlier fussiness forgotten.

"Thank you, Hobbie," I said, meaning it for more than just the meal.

She waved a dismissive hand. "I'll strengthen the wards tonight. Better safe than fished out of the river in pieces."

"Charming image," Uldrek muttered, but he nodded to her with respect. "Thank you."

We settled around the table, the summons moved carefully to a side shelf. The stew was rich and flavorful—rabbit, I thought, with wild mushrooms and herbs from our garden. We ate mostly in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

I fed Ellie small spoonfuls, watching her face light up with each new taste. It was such a simple joy, watching her discover the world bite by bite. It grounded me, reminded me why I was doing this. Not just for myself but for her. For the life she deserved.

"What should I wear?" I asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Uldrek looked up, brow furrowed. "What?"

"Tomorrow. To the hearing. What should I wear?" I shook my head slightly. "It's a ridiculous thing to worry about, I know, but—"

"It's not ridiculous," he said firmly. "Appearance matters in court."

"The blue dress," Hobbie said, not looking up from her bowl. "The one with the buttons. Serious enough, but not trying too hard."

I blinked at her in surprise. "You've thought about this?"

"Someone has to," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re brave, not foolish. Showing up rattled doesn’t help your case. That dress says you’re there to be heard, not pitied.”

I felt the words settle in me, small stones of reassurance added to the weight I was preparing to carry. “All right,” I said, more to myself than anyone. “The blue dress.”

We finished eating in a kind of companionable quiet, even if the undercurrent beneath it hummed with tension.

Hobbie insisted on taking Ellie after dinner, muttering something about restless magic and keeping her out of the way of ritual work.

I bent to kiss Ellie’s soft curls, whispering a promise into her ear I hoped I could keep: You are safe. You will stay safe.

By the time Uldrek and I finished straightening the table and washing the bowls, soft light was beginning to trail down the walls of the cottage, fading to ember. He stood behind me as I wiped the edge of the basin, his hands resting lightly on my hips.

“You don’t have to go alone,” he said. “If they’ll let me in the chamber, I’ll be there.”

I turned to face him, the cloth still damp in my hand. “You’ve already stood between me and a blade once. You don’t have to do it again.”

He met my gaze without hesitation. “Wasn’t the blade that scared me. It was what it cost you to name it.”

I looked away, throat tight. Heat threatened behind my eyes, and I blinked it back. “I could stand alone,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said, brushing a loose curl behind my ear. “But you don’t have to.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t heavy. It was full. I touched his hand and threaded our fingers together.

Tomorrow, the courtroom would feel cold. I knew this. Gavriel would be there, likely pristine as ever, his voice smooth as silk spun over lies. The council would weigh his charm against my truth, his sanctity against my scars.

But tonight, there was warm bread on the counter. Herbs drying near the hearth. Stew simmering low in our bellies. And a hand in mine that had never once tried to guide me—only held steady.

Outside, the wind shifted, bringing a brisk change in the air.

I breathed in, deep and slow, the scent of rosemary and ashwood in the hearth catching at the edges of my awareness.

This home was real, this life—no longer a fragile illusion I dared not own.

Gavriel had known my name for only a day.

I had begun reclaiming it for weeks. That, I realized now, made all the difference.

"Come on," I murmured, tugging him toward the hearth. "You owe me a game of stones, and I plan to beat you terribly before bed."

He huffed a soft laugh. “I let you win once and haven’t heard the end of it.”

“I was magnificent.”

“That’s one word.”

We sat on the floor before the fire as Hobbie’s wards shimmered faint gold at each lintel. Ellie shifted in her sleep, a soft sigh from beside the woven cradle. This wasn’t untouched peace. It was chosen. Hard-won. And it would hold through morning.

No—beyond that.

Because I would see it through.