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Fae described him as best she could—the way he had sat, the way his eyes pinned you like a butterfly to a corkboard, the power of his presence. Feraal hummed thoughtfully, then made her start again, prompting her to repeat the entire interview from the beginning.

She indulged him, even as her voice grew softer, words blurring at the edges with sleep.

By the time she finished the second telling, her breathing had evened out, and Feraal lay still against her heart, listening to its steady rhythm as her chest rose and fell beneath him.

As sleep began to pull her under, Feraal shifted slightly against her chest.

'Would you mind,' he asked, carefully casual, 'if I tagged along in your bag tomorrow?'

Fae smiled, eyes already closed, one hand lifting instinctively to rest over his hard little wooden body. "Such politeness among friends," she murmured teasingly. "Of course."

Contentment rolled through him, and he settled more firmly against her heart, his breathing syncing with hers as the last of the day loosened its hold.

Within moments, she drifted fully into sleep—safe, warm, and no longer alone. And she dreamt of Blaidd.

The fog-thick and muffle-swallowed sound and distance alike. Shapes loomed and dissolved as she moved, until the shadow of a great oak emerged ahead of her, vast and ancient. For a heartbeat, it was only a tree.

And then, like a veil had been lifted, something moved in the darkness.

Creatures clung to its bark, slithering and crawling, their bodies indistinguishable from the wood itself—grey-brown, knotted, as though grown from the trunk itself. They were one with the tree and the night, their eyes empty hollows, their smiles stretched, sharp and wrong. A chill skittered down her spine, and she quickened her pace, refusing to look too closely.

Beyond the oak, against a sheer rock face, stood a cottage, its windows glowing softly. A plump old woman stood on the covered porch, waving cheerfully, beckoning her closer. The sight tugged at something warm and foolish in Fae's heart. She smiled despite herself and took a step forward.

A caw split the air above her.

She looked up.

Branches arched overhead, their trunks still lost in the fog, bowed low beneath the weight of thousands of crows. They perched shoulder to shoulder, black upon black, every single one staring down at her. Their eyes glittered with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

She shuffled back a step, then another.

The trees and the birds dissolved into fog as if they had never been. As she watched them fade, she thought she glimpsed something large and serpentine sliding across the cottage porch before it disappeared in the fog.

She retreated another step.

Her back struck a solid wall.

And then the fear raced through her, washed away almost immediately by a familiar scent that wrapped around her like a cloak—caramel and wood, smoke and warmth. The smell of safety, she had once thought. Home.

She turned to see Blaidd, but not the Blaidd she knew. His mouth moved, but no words came out. His face was leaner, healing wounds on his chest, his eyes equal parts scarlet and brown.

Strong hands closed over her upper arms and pulled her into his chest in that way she had always dreamed of so long ago. Around her, she smelt the brine of the ocean and felt the sway of the ship beneath her feet. And then, just like that, she was back in her bed with Aiko calling her name through the door.

Chapter 24

The next morning arrived far too quickly.

Fae had barely finished plaiting her hair when Aiko was already bustling her toward the door, thrusting a folded cloth into her hands and chattering in a soft, urgent stream of words. Breakfast was hurried—warm rice cakes, a sip of tea—and then they were out in the narrow, pebbled lane with Aiko tugging her along at a near run.

"We must not be late. No putting up your hair?" Aiko said, glancing over her shoulder, eyes bright. "First impressions."

The workshop sat behind Haruko-san's house, half hidden by a stand of bamboo and the quiet orderliness of a small garden. It had a low ceiling with skylights and the air inside cool and scented with wood shaving. Aiko slipped inside at once, tying back her sleeves and moving with the ease of someone who belonged there, even if she claimed she did not.

She helped lay out the basic tools at each work desk with care. Chisels of various sizes and rulers, saws and hammers hung in cupboards. Watching Aiko, Fae realised this too was a kind of devotion, despite not having the skill or interest.

"I have no talent for wood," Aiko admitted quietly as she worked, lips quirking. "My hands… How do I say it? They do not listen." She shrugged, then lowered her voice. "I know a little magic. Nothing big. And I like helping the healer—cleaning, carrying, holding hands when it hurts." A brief shadow crossed her face. "My uncle and aunt do not like that. They want to arrange a marriage with another pack." She huffed softly. "But I am not ready to… How do I say it? Settle?"

Before Fae could answer, the others arrived.