Chapter 26 Maren
MAREN
Maren woke to gray dawn light filtering through gaps in the shutters.
Tristan's arm remained draped across her waist, his breathing deep and even against her neck. His body radiated heat, and for a moment she let herself pretend this was normal. That waking in his arms was the beginning of something instead of the end.
The thought stung deep into her chest.
She'd given in to wanting him knowing exactly what it meant. A goodbye disguised as surrender. One night to feel what it was like to be chosen, to be wanted, to be held by someone who saw past her shadows to whatever person existed beneath.
Because she'd have to leave. The mob wouldn't stop hunting her. The Council wouldn't stop debating her fate. And Tristan would keep standing between her and violence until someone decided he was as guilty as she was just for defending her.
She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let him sacrifice everything he'd built here for someone the town had already condemned.
Maren slipped from his arms carefully, holding her breath when he stirred but didn't wake. Her clothes had dried near the fire. She dressed quickly, efficiently, ignoring the ache in muscles still tender from last night.
Her shadows clung to him even as she moved toward the door. They wrapped around his sleeping form like they were reluctant to leave, like they'd found something worth protecting and didn't understand why she was walking away.
She understood their confusion. Leaving felt wrong on every level.
But staying felt worse.
Maren pulled them back forcibly, commanding them to follow despite their resistance. They obeyed eventually, trailing after her like sulking children as she slipped out into the cold.
Snow had fallen overnight, covering tracks and burying evidence. Good. The mob would have a harder time finding the cabin and hopefully assume she'd fled farther than she had.
The walk to Hollow Oak took an hour through snow that grabbed at her legs.
Dawn light turned the world soft, painting everything in shades that felt like mourning.
By the time she reached the town's edge, people were starting to clear paths, tend animals, and going about morning routines that pretended yesterday's hunt hadn't happened.
Maren kept to alleys and back paths, avoiding main streets where she'd be recognized. The apothecary sat dark and quiet, but she knew Freya would be awake. The nature witch kept healer's hours, rising before dawn to tend plants and prepare remedies.
She knocked softly on the back door. Once. Twice. Then waited.
Freya opened it wearing a robe and concern. "Maren. Thank the Veil you're alive."
"For now." Maren slipped inside quickly. "I need supplies. Traveling supplies. And I need to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Freya closed the door and threw the bolt. "Where are you going?"
"Away. Before the Council decides for me." Maren moved to the shelves where Freya kept dried herbs and preserved remedies. "I won't let them bind me or give them the satisfaction of exile. I'll just leave on my own terms."
"And Tristan? Does he know about this plan?"
"He'll figure it out when he wakes up alone."
Freya was quiet for a moment, watching her gather supplies. "You slept with him."
Maren's hands stilled on a jar of fever-reducing tea.
"I can see it on you," Freya continued. "The way you're moving. The way your shadows keep reaching back toward wherever he is. You finally let yourself have something good and now you're running."
"I'm protecting him."
"From what? From being happy? From caring about someone who actually deserves it?" Freya crossed her arms. "The town's going to blame him whether you leave or stay. At least if you stay, you can face it together."
"Together gets him exiled too. Or worse." Maren shoved jars into her bag with more force than necessary. "I won't do that to him. He's already lost too much because of fear and stupidity."
"So you're making his choices for him?"
"I'm making the only choice that keeps him safe."
"That's bullshit and you know it." Freya moved closer, her green eyes sharp. "You're running because you're scared. Not of the Council or the mob or the doppelg?nger. Of him. Of what it means that you let yourself want something."
"I'm not—"
"You are. I've watched you for two years, Maren. Watched you keep everyone at arm's length. Watched you build walls so high nobody could climb them." Freya's voice gentled. "And now someone's gotten through those walls and you're terrified."
Maren's throat tightened. "Of course I'm terrified. Nothing good ever comes from people getting close to me. My mother died alone. My grandmother died alone. Everyone in my bloodline who's ever loved someone has watched them suffer for it."
"Or maybe they suffered because they were alone. Because they pushed away the people who could've helped them survive." Freya placed a hand on Maren's shoulder. "Love isn't a curse, Maren. It's a choice. And it's one you get to keep making every day."
"Even when that choice hurts someone?"
"Especially then. Because living alone because you're too afraid to try hurts worse. Trust me. I know."
Small footsteps sounded from the stairs. Sage appeared in her nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Maren's here?"
"Hi, sweetheart." Maren crouched down, letting the little girl run into her arms. "I came to see you before I left."
"Left where?"
"On a trip. A long one."
Sage pulled back, her young face creasing with confusion. "But you just got here. And the shadows like it here. They told me."
"They did?"
"They're always happier when the tiger man is around." Sage patted Maren's cheek with the seriousness only a three-year-old could manage. "You should stay where the shadows are happy. That's where you belong."
The simple wisdom hit harder than any argument Freya could've made. Maren's shadows had been calmer around Tristan, more settled, like they'd found something they'd been searching for. And she'd felt it too, that sense of rightness when he was near, like pieces clicking into place.
"Sage, baby, go get dressed," Freya said gently. "Give us a few more minutes."
The little girl obeyed reluctantly, casting one last look at Maren before disappearing upstairs.
Maren stood slowly, her bag of supplies feeling heavier than it should. "I can't stay. The Council meets today. Bram will push for binding or exile and Emmett can't hold him off forever."
"Then fight. Let Tristan help you fight." Freya moved to the window, checking the street outside. "You said yourself that someone activated the locket using your blood. That means whoever's behind this is still out there, still orchestrating everything. Running doesn't solve that."
"Staying doesn't solve it either."
"No. But staying means you're not alone when the next attack comes." Freya turned back to face her. "And there will be a next attack. The doppelg?nger won't stop just because you left town. It'll follow you, or it'll find another target, or it'll keep wreaking havoc here using your face."
Maren hadn't thought that far ahead. Had been so focused on protecting Tristan that she hadn't considered what the construct would do without her as a convenient scapegoat. She just assumed it would follow her.
"I don't know how to fight it," she admitted quietly. "My magic feeds it. Every time I use shadow work, it gets stronger."
"Then you find another way. Use different magic. Borrow someone else's power." Freya's expression softened. "Or you accept help from people who care about you. People who have resources you don't."
"Like Tristan."
"Like Tristan. Like me. Like Moira and Lucien and everyone else in this town who doesn't believe Bram's fear-mongering." Freya pulled her into a quick hug. "Stop trying to save everyone by sacrificing yourself. That's not noble. It's just lonely."
Maren stood in the apothecary, her bag sat packed and ready. The back door waited three steps away.
She could leave. Could slip out before Tristan woke, before the Council convened, before anyone else got hurt because of her proximity.
Or she could stay. Could face whatever came next with people who'd chosen to stand beside her despite the cost.
Her shadows stirred restlessly, still reaching back toward the cabin where Tristan slept. They'd made their choice. Had wrapped around him last night like claiming, like recognition, like home.
Maybe it was time she trusted their instincts instead of her fears.
"I didn't run because I don't want him," Maren said quietly, the admission pulled from somewhere deep. "I ran because I want him too much. Because wanting things has never ended well for me."
"Or maybe it's never ended well because you've never let yourself actually have them." Freya squeezed her shoulder. "Stay, Maren. Fight. Let yourself want something without apologizing for it."
Maren looked at her packed bag, at the door leading to exile and isolation and the safety that came from being alone.
Then she looked at Freya, at the stairs where Sage had disappeared, at the window showing Hollow Oak waking up to another day.
There was still time. Maybe she could prove herself innocent after all and finally just stop surviving. For herself. And maybe even for Tristan.