Chapter 35 Maren
MAREN
Maren stood on Freya's front step, bundled in a cloak that wasn't hers and boots that had been cleaned of blood she didn't remember losing.
Tristan waited at the bottom, his hands wrapped in gauze that matched the bandages around her ribs. The morning was clear and cold, the kind of winter day that made everything look sharp-edged and clean.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be." She descended carefully, ribs protesting each step. "Thank you for this. I could've walked alone but—"
"You shouldn't have to." He fell into step beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "After everything, the least the town can do is let you come home without harassment."
They walked in silence through streets that looked different somehow. Cleaner maybe, or just less hostile. People were out clearing snow, tending shops, going about normal business. A few nodded as Maren passed. Others looked away quickly, not quite ready to meet her eyes.
But no one threw salt. No one spat curses. No one reached for weapons.
Progress.
"Emmett wants a formal statement," Tristan said as they turned toward the residential district. "About what the locket did. How it possessed people. He thinks making the details public will help ease suspicion."
"Will it?"
"Maybe. Fear's harder to maintain when you understand what caused it." He glanced at her. "But only if you're comfortable going public with everything."
"I am." Maren's cottage appeared ahead, small and isolated at the forest's edge. Exactly where she'd wanted it when she'd first arrived. Far enough from town that people could pretend she didn't exist. "The truth is better than more rumors."
They reached her gate, snow piled high against the fence. Tristan pushed it open, checking the path ahead out of habit. Always vigilant. Always prepared.
The cottage looked abandoned. Windows dark, garden buried under snow, the wards she'd set weeks ago barely flickering. But it was still standing. Still hers.
"I haven't been here in so long," she said quietly. "Feels like years instead of days."
"A lot happened in those days." Tristan stopped at her door, waiting while she found the key. "You almost died. Multiple times."
"So did you." She unlocked the door, pushed it open to reveal interior that smelled stale and cold. "The lake nearly killed you."
"But it didn't." He followed her inside, his presence immediately making the small space feel safer. "We survived. Both of us."
Maren moved through the cottage mechanically, opening shutters, lighting the fire Freya had helped her prepare yesterday. Her shadows spread across familiar floors, settling into corners they'd claimed as theirs.
Home. This was home, even if it had nearly gotten her killed.
Tristan stood by the door, watching her move. Not quite leaving but not quite staying either.
"You should sit," Maren said, gesturing to the chair near the fire. "Warm up before you head back."
"I should go. Let you rest."
"Tristan." She turned to face him fully. "Please sit."
He did, slowly, his gauze-wrapped hands resting on his knees. The firelight from the flames she got going painted his face in gold and shadow, highlighting the sharp angles, the ice-blue eyes that had seen too much.
Maren sat across from him, gathering courage she wasn't sure she had. "I need to tell you something."
"You don't have to say anything."
"I do." She cut him off gently. "Because I ran. Left you in that cabin without explanation. Let you think it was regret when it wasn't."
His expression went carefully neutral. "What was it then?"
"Fear." The word came out easier than expected. "I was terrified that if I stayed, if I let myself want you, the town would turn on you too. Make you pay for defending me. And I couldn't watch that happen."
"So you left to protect me."
"I left because I'm a coward." Maren's hands twisted in her lap. "Because everyone I've ever cared about has suffered for it. My mother died alone hiding that locket. My grandmother died in exile. And I've spent my life keeping people at arm's length so they wouldn't get hurt by proximity."
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "That morning in the cabin, I woke up next to you and felt happy.
Actually happy, for the first time in years.
And it terrified me because happiness has always been temporary.
Always ended with loss or pain or watching someone I love get hurt because of what I am. "
Tristan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Listening with the same intensity he brought to investigations. Like her words mattered more than evidence or facts.
"So I ran," Maren continued. "Told myself I was protecting you. That leaving was kinder than staying. But the truth is I ran because I wanted you too much. Because letting myself have you meant admitting I deserved something good, and I've never been very good at believing that."
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Her shadows curled closer, drawn to the heat.
"Are you done?" Tristan asked quietly.
"I think so. Yes."
"Good. Because it's my turn." He stood, crossing to her chair. Crouched in front of it so they were eye level. "You're right. You are a coward. But so am I."
Maren started to protest but he kept talking.
"I watched my mate die because people were afraid of what she was.
Spent three years telling myself I'd never let anyone close enough to hurt like that again.
" His hands found hers, gauze rough against her skin.
"Then you showed up. Stubborn and scared and trying so hard to be invisible while your shadows screamed for attention.”
"I knew what you were the moment we worked that warding circle together.
Felt the bond trying to form. Felt my tiger recognize yours even though you're not a shifter.
" His ice-blue eyes met hers. "And I was terrified.
Because you're supposed to get one mate.
One chance at that kind of connection. Getting a second felt like the universe playing a cruel joke. "
"Is that what I am? A cruel joke?"
"You're everything I didn't know I was allowed to want again." His thumb brushed across her knuckles. "And I was too much of a coward to say it yesterday. Too afraid that admitting how much you matter would somehow make it hurt worse when you left."
"I'm not leaving." The words came out fierce, certain. "Not unless you want me gone."
"I don't want you gone. I want—" He stopped, jaw working. "I want you to stay. Want to wake up next to you without worrying it'll be the last time. To build something that isn't based on fear or duty or Council assignments."
"What is it based on then?"
"This." He leaned closer. "Us. Whatever we are together. Whatever we can be if we stop letting fear make our choices."
Maren's hands found his face, feeling the scratch of stubble, the warmth of skin that had been frozen solid yesterday. "I love you. Not because you saved me. Not because we destroyed the locket together. But because you saw me at my worst and decided I was worth defending anyway."
"I love you too." The words came out rough, like he'd been holding them back for days.
She kissed him.
Soft at first, testing, giving him a chance to pull back. He didn't. His hands came up to cradle her face, careful of her injuries, and the kiss deepened.
Her shadows encircled them, no longer agitated or defensive. Just present. Accepting.
Maren was breathing hard when they finally took a breath, her ribs aching but not caring. "Stay. Please. I know it's fast and probably stupid and we should take time to figure things out but…"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, I'll stay." Tristan's smile was small but genuine. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"No more running. From me, from the town, from whatever comes next." His forehead pressed against hers. "We face it together or not at all."
"Deal." She kissed him again, softer this time.
Snow had started falling outside the window, light flakes drifting past like stars in daylight. The cottage was warming, fire chasing away cold that had settled during her absence. Her shadows curled contentedly around the furniture, no longer searching for threats.
Tristan pulled her carefully against his chest, mindful of her ribs, and held her like she was something precious.
Maren closed her eyes and let herself want without apologizing. Let herself have this one thing that fear had tried to steal.
Tomorrow would bring challenges. The town's wary acceptance wouldn't last without work. Her reputation would take time to rebuild. The Council would want statements and reports and assurances that no more cursed relics waited in hidden places.
But today, she had this. Had him. It was enough.
More than enough.
It was everything.