Chapter Text
Khali’s heart thumped in her ears like a cornered hare.
She wanted to sink back against the wall and close her eyes, to let the bulk of the old lodge hold some of her weight for even a few minutes.
Instead, she straightened and took her place at the front of the hall, fighting to project an air of calm.
Getting everyone together should have sent the rafters ringing with chatter and laughter even at such an early hour. But as the pack shuffled in, only uneasy murmurs followed them.
Idris and Petyr passed with their children in tow. Tiberius yawned, dropping his head onto Idris’s shoulder.
Khali’s heart squeezed.
In the grey of dawn, Dimitri had pulled her aside and quietly asked if she was sure she wanted to have the little ones present.
Khali had wavered in the face of her desire to shelter them from whatever she still could.
But they’d been there to mourn Yusif and Maya’s deaths. They’d heard her grim announcement when she’d taken “the hunter’s mage” as a prisoner. And they’d been witness to last night’s disaster.
(And if Opal and Jaime stayed, the pups would need to know the story. If not the worst details, at least enough to give them a better understanding of their newest packmates.)
So she’d decided they should be here for this, too—as difficult as it was sure to be.
Rowan fluttered a wave to Khali as she sandwiched herself between Mila and Leo.
Khali sent a faint smile back.
Then she glanced at Sasha—and the sight of her brother sent something in her splintering.
Sometimes when he looked at Khali, it was almost like seeing their mother again. Their mother had been serious, but always warm beneath the surface. Just like Sasha. He had the same somber temperament and the same deep-set, soulful eyes. Since childhood, Khali had the knack of reading him despite how little he gave away.
But the furrow between his brows was especially deep, the line of his jaw taut, and... Khali couldn’t decipher what he was thinking behind the grim expression this time.
Her heart twisted as she pulled her attention back to the rest of the pack.
On the other side of the hall, Dima sat with Mirza’s family, his shoulders tense. Nadia and Alexei pressed in on either side of him, both radiating concern as they watched the doorway to the kitchen.
Elli sat alone at the end of the next bench, staring at nothing in particular. They looked almost as bad as they had when they’d learned of Maya’s death—blank and drawn and too pale.
Lada and Ash were in the last seats. Ash offered Khali a small, tired smile.
The rustle of clothing died down as the pack settled into their seats.
Khali steadied herself with a slow breath.
She didn’t have any more excuses to wait.
“Thank you all for coming.” Khali was proud of how steady her voice sounded even as her pulse somehow picked up even more speed. “I know you went home without answers last night.”
Everyone’s eyes were on her.
She cleared her throat. “First, I wanted to give an update on injuries. Leo and Tiberius fell off a bench and got some bumps and bruises, as you know, but they’re already doing much better.”
“It wasn’t as bad as when we fell out of the oak tree,” Leo said cheerfully.
A huff of subdued laughter followed his words. Naomi hugged him closer.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Khali said, managing a smile. “I know Ash gave you both a salve and a small dose of his pain tincture, but if you feel you need more, we’ll make sure you get it.”
“We don’t!” Tiberius grimaced, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “It tastes really bad.”
Sofia leaned over Petyr’s lap to shush her brother. Tiberius scowled at her.
“What about Opal?” Petyr asked, pushing the two children back into their seats. “It looked like she got hurt the worst, didn’t she?”
Concern rippled through the room as several people seemed to glance around and realize that Opal was absent.
Khali’s mouth felt as dry as sand. “I... Yes. Opal got burned. Nadia and Dimitri did too. Ash started treatment, and fortunately they were also able to get the magical healing they needed to—”
Priya made a strangled noise. “Magical... healing? Khalida, you didn’t let the mage near them after he—”
“Ammi,” Disha interrupted, just loud enough to carry. “You saw how close Opal was to the fire. Would you rather she be suffering if Jaime could help?”
Priya gave her daughter a look of consternation. “Of course not. But it can’t be safe.”
“Look.” Disha gestured toward the far table. “They’re here, aren’t they? Obviously he healed them without doing any harm. Right, Khalida?”
Priya lifted a hand as if to keep arguing. “It doesn’t—”
Ivan touched Priya’s shoulder. “I think—”
“Where is Opal?” Nina asked over everyone, high and thin. “Is—Is she still hurt? Is she okay?”
Sofia wrapped an arm around her.
“Yes,” Khali said gently, eyes stinging. “She’s alright.”
“Where’s... the mage?” Rowan asked.
Khali opened her mouth to answer. The words caught in her throat.
Jaime’s face flashed before her, shadowed beneath the light he’d cast above Dimitri’s table. He had listened to what Khali had to say, Dimitri’s hand in his, and offered little in the way of reaction.
At last he’d spoken, tired and heavy. “I need your word that you mean it.”
Khali frowned. “Mean what?”
“That you really want... me to stay here. Knowing what you know, and knowing who I am. And that you’re not going to change your mind, or—”
He faltered, staring at the table. When he lifted his head, he visibly gathered himself.
“I need your word that you won’t look at me like a friend one minute, and then an enemy the next, and then a tool and a friend again, without me doing anything differently. I—I understand why you did before.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. His voice grew ragged. “But if I stay... I can’t live like that forever, Khalida. I don’t expect everyone here to like me. But I need to know I can count on you, at least. Please.”
His words struck deep. She’d held his gaze.
“You have my word,” she’d said.
She’d meant it. Now she had to live up to it.
Rowan’s head tilted in question.
Khali sought out Lada’s familiar, reassuring green eyes. Lada’s mouth curved and she gave Khali a nod.
Khali nodded back.
She turned toward the doorway. “Opal, Jaime, would you please join me?”
Silence swallowed every sound in the room.
Opal and Jaime emerged slowly from the kitchens, their footsteps too loud.
Opal held her chin high, her notebook tucked under one arm. She didn’t look at anyone but Nadia and Alexei, for whom she spared an almost imperceptible smile.
Jaime wore Dimitri’s coat, his posture rigid and his head tipped down. He didn’t look at anyone at all. Not until his eyes flicked up from the floor to meet Khali’s for an instant, muddied and full of feeling.
Khali’s chest ached with a stab of the protectiveness that had flickered to life the very first night by the river, when Jaime had stood shivering in their midst, thin and barefoot and afraid.
She’d resisted, smothering it first beneath hatred and suspicion, then with cautious distance and pragmatic need.
Now she allowed herself to feel it. He’d found his way into the cracks in her armor, even before last night. And she was tired of seeing him look so distressed.
Khali reached out slowly, giving him time to move away.
He didn’t.
Something complicated passed over his face when her hand touched his arm.
Then he startled as wood scraped against stone. Naomi shot to her feet.
“Khalida, what is he doing here?” she demanded, stepping sideways to put her children behind her. “Why is he even breathing after what he did?”
“It isn’t what you think,” Khali said levelly. “That’s what I want to explain.”
“What could there possibly be to explain?” Naomi’s tone turned hard. “You let a hunter live, and look at what happened. He injured your nephew. My son.”
“Mom,” Leo protested.
Sasha stood. Khali’s stomach clenched at the movement, but he simply took his mate’s arm.
“Naomi,” Sasha said. “We ought to hear this through first.”
Naomi didn’t relent, indignation blazing in her face. “He attacked us in our own home, Khalida. On a night of mourning.”
Jaime looked up sharply at that, eyes wide. “I didn’t—”
Someone gasped.
His neck, of course, was bare.
Voices erupted all at once.
Alarm flared up Khali’s spine as the pack’s mood started to tip towards anger and panic. She wasn't doing this right.
She moved in front of the two mages.
“Alright,” she called out, letting authority ring in her words. “That’s enough.”
“But—”
“Enough,” she repeated.
(A thud of irony hit her as she thought of Ash doing the same thing to quiet her the night before.)
The room dropped into a wary stillness.
Khali crossed her arms. “Does anyone here honestly doubt that I would die before I deliberately put a single member of this pack in harm’s way?”
Silence.
“No? Because if you do, I want to know.”
No one said anything. The rush of blood in Khali’s ears slowed.
“Good.” She waited until Naomi and Sasha sat back down before drawing a breath to continue. “I’ve gotten a lot of things wrong in the last two years. You all know that. But I hope you also know that I’ve always tried to do my best and to admit my mistakes when they happen.”
A wave of fatigue crested over her. Her arms fell to her sides, her voice dropping. “And we’re here because I did make a mistake, and it’s too big for me to fix on my own. I was wrong about Jaime and I was wrong about Opal, too. I want them both to have a place with us, and I want you to understand why. So I need everyone to listen. Please. I promise you that no one here is in danger.”
The tension in the room didn’t ease. But no one moved to argue with her either.
Khali swallowed, willing her shoulders to relax.
“Thank you,” she said, and took a step back. “I’ll let them speak for themselves.”
Opal tried to shrug off the weight of dozens of eyes. The hall stretched before her like a gaping mouth, full of teeth that threatened to devour her if she wasn’t careful.
She forced herself to keep her head held high rather than shrinking into the shadows. Khalida had promised they’d be safe, and Opal trusted her to keep her word. Or at least to try.
(And even if the alpha proved unable to protect them in the end, Jaime and Opal could protect themselves now.)
“Opal?” Khalida leaned down. “You wanted to go first?”
Opal breathed out against the tightness in her chest. She wanted to be brave for both of them.
So she nodded, flipping her notebook open and looking toward Nadia.
The twins rose in unison and came to flank her, standing warm and solid at her side.
She saw Dimitri’s hands grip the edge of the bench, white-knuckled. He remained in his seat as Jaime had asked.
(She suppressed a sigh. They were both too stubborn.)
Opal handed the notebook to Nadia.
“Opal wrote down what she wants to say to everyone,” Nadia said. “She asked me to read it for her.”
The edge to her voice seemed to dare anyone to object.
No one did.
Affection flared in Opal’s core, warm enough to dispel some of her anxiety. She bumped her shoulder against Nadia’s in gratitude.
“Thank you, Nadia,” Khalida said. “Go ahead when you’re ready.”
Nadia looked down at the page and began to read.
Thank you for welcoming me into your pack. I love it here. But I haven’t been honest with you. It wasn’t Jaime who caused the accident last night. It was me. I have magic too. I’ve been trying to keep it in, but I got upset and lost control. I’m so sorry that I hurt people. I didn’t mean for it to happen.
“Magic?” Nina asked, half-rising from her seat.
Petyr shushed her.
Nadia kept reading.
Two years ago, my first pack found out I was a mage. They believed all mages were evil, so they cut out my tongue to try to keep me from ever using magic. They locked me up and I thought I was going to die.
Opal ignored the gasps at that. She didn’t look up from the page, focusing on the even rhythm of Nadia’s voice.
My mother and I got away, and we were on our own until the hunters captured us. Then Khalida brought me here and I met Jaime. He was kind to me. When I showed him that I had magic, he offered to help me. I was afraid of what would happen to both of us if you found out, so I kept my magic hidden away. But it didn’t like being locked up for so long, and I couldn’t stop it last night.
“Wait.” Rowan’s fingers curled into her brother’s sleeve. “You were the one who made the fire explode?”
Opal nodded, her face hot.
“But it was an accident,” Nadia reiterated. “Like she said. She didn’t mean to do it. Opal wouldn’t hurt us on purpose.”
Rowan frowned, holding onto Leo much like Naomi had. “How could it be an accident?”
Nadia turned to Opal. Opal bit her lip.
Some of the other children started to fidget, looking at Opal with wide eyes.
Opal’s stomach knotted itself. She didn’t know if she had the words to explain, even in writing. But she wanted the children, more than anyone else, to understand that she hadn’t tried to harm them.
“...Opal?” Nina ventured.
Opal fished in her pockets for her pencil, her fingers clumsy as her mind raced.
“Think of it this way.”
Opal’s head rose at the sound of Ash’s voice.
Ash was looking at Rowan. “If you plug the bottom of a washtub but keep pouring more water in, what happens?”
Rowan considered this. “It spills over the sides.”
“Yes.” Ash leaned forward. “Now, imagine the water isn’t ordinary water. It’s alive, and it’s unhappy about being crowded into the washtub. It wants to get out and do something. And while that’s going on, you’re still pouring more of it in. Then what would happen?”
“It would make a big mess,” Leo said fervently.
“But we haven’t ever done anything like that,” Rowan added, darting a sideways look at their parents.
Opal watched one corner of Ash’s mouth twitch. “No, of course not. However, magic is a bit like that, which is one reason it takes time and practice to develop the skill of using it. It doesn’t just sit passively like water in a tub. It wants to get out and do things. The longer it gets bottled up, the more difficult it becomes to contain it, particularly if something happens to make a mage’s emotions run high. If nothing changes, eventually it will come out whether a mage wants it to or not.”
“...Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Rowan turned back to Opal. “Is that what happened?”
Opal nodded quickly. She scribbled a few lines at the top of the next page.
I was using the fire to try to tie the magic to something and keep it calm, but then I saw Jaime in trouble and I lost control. But I’m going to practice a lot so it doesn’t happen again.
“Okay,” Rowan said, her confusion solidifying into determination. “Then we’ll help you practice.”
“Rowan.” Naomi’s expression was still stony. “No, you won’t.”
(Opal couldn’t even blame her for it. Her own mother had faced down anything and everything to keep her safe. It was clear Naomi would do the same for her children. Opal just wished she wasn’t something a mother thought her children needed to be afraid of.)
Rowan’s expression turned mulish.
Murmurs started to spread again.
“Enough,” Khalida snapped. “We’re going to let Opal finish.”
The room fell quiet.
Opal dropped her gaze away from the attention.
Nadia glanced at Opal. When Opal nodded, she cleared her throat and kept reading where she’d left off. I didn’t even know how magic really worked until I met Jaime. I only knew how to do a few things that helped me and my mother stay alive when we were alone. I want to learn and use it to do good things. For myself, and for you all of you.
Opal’s eyes started to burn. She knew what came next.
Alexei brushed his shoulder against hers.
Nadia read with conviction. I hope you can forgive me for what happened yesterday and give both of us a chance. Jaime was only trying to keep me safe. I want to become part of your pack permanently. But if you don’t want him to stay here, I can’t stay here either. He’s my friend. So please listen to what he has to say, too.
That was the end of what she’d written.
Alexei slung an arm around her.
She dragged her head up.
Her eyes found Mirza and Max first. Mirza was crying, her hands tight on Max’s arm.
Khalida let out a breath. “Thank you, Opal.”
Opal scrubbed one hand over her face and leaned into Alexei’s touch.
Before anyone else could forget Khalida’s injunction to wait to speak, the alpha nudged Jaime gently.
“Jaime?”
The mood in the room instantly went brittle again.
Opal felt Jaime’s magic shudder.
He nodded, taking a hesitant step forward and lifting his face.
“First, I... I wanted to say that Opal is telling the truth about her magic. What happened last night was an accident, and it’s only because she hasn’t had a chance to study without having to hide. But she’s a fast learner, and she’s kind.” His voice grew choked. “You—you can trust Opal, and her magic. I know that won’t mean anything coming from me, but I think Elli will be able to tell you the same thing.”
In the corner of her eye, Opal saw Elli let out a breath.
Opal bit her lip hard.
Jaime’s magic shivered again.
He was looking at the floor. Now that he wasn’t talking about her, his voice grew quieter.
“Nothing that I could ever say changes the fact that I helped the hunters capture and kill people, including some of your pack. I know that. More than anything else, I... I need to tell you how sorry I am.” He glanced at Ivan, his eyes too bright. “They all deserved to live, and I’m so sorry I was part of taking them from you too soon.”
Opal fought against the desire to go to his side and offer him some comfort.
He’d been determined to face this on his own.
“I never wanted to be a hunter. When I was a boy, I—”
He broke off.
Opal tried to push a wave of strengthening magic through the bond. She didn’t know if it worked. But after a second, he pulled in another breath and kept speaking.
“I wanted to be a healer like my father. To help people. But a group of hunters learned I was living with my uncle. They wanted a mage to travel with them to make their work easier, instead of having to find people and pay them whenever they needed magic done. So they killed him and took me away from his village.”
Opal clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palm.
“I didn’t...” Jaime’s voice faltered. “I didn’t want to do what they said. I knew it was wrong. At first, I tried to resist them. But they were—they made it harder and harder to say no, until I stopped saying it anymore.”
Opal’s eyes burned.
“I—I just want you to know that I didn’t do it for money or power or because I hated you,” he said, almost too small to carry through the room. “Your lives are worth more than any of that. And if I could, I’d do anything to change what happened.”
“But you’re a mage,” Abed said, sounding more bewildered than anything. “Couldn’t you have stopped them?”
Anger flared in Opal’s throat and she reached for her notebook.
But Jaime spoke first, his words thin and tired as old cloth. “I did try. They had a mage collar too.”
Abed and Disha exchanged a look.
“So you couldn’t use your magic against them,” Naomi said, tone hard. “Fine. But you still used it for them. You said it yourself. You made your choice. You did what they wanted.”
Jaime’s shoulders drew in. “I did.”
Opal hated to see him sinking beneath the same mantle of guilt and shame. She took one aborted step toward him, arm stretched out.
“Then how could we ever trust you in a village with our children?” Naomi leaned back against the table, face grim. “How could we sleep at night knowing there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again?”
Jaime went pale. “I...”
Dimitri was at his side in the space between breaths, bristling as he laid a hand at Jaime’s back. “Did you somehow miss everything he said?”
“Dimitri,” Jaime said thickly. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” Dimitri’s voice was tight. “I know what you wanted, and I’m sorry, but I can’t just sit there and watch you go through all of this alone again.”
Opal slipped away from Nadia and Alexei to stand at Jaime’s other side.
Dimitri looked out at his pack. “He was eleven years old, Naomi. Do you remember when Nadia was eleven and she was convinced she could hide that injured woodpecker in her room without anybody finding out?”
Opal let her arm press against Jaime’s. He vibrated with tension.
(When Opal had been eleven, she’d still thought life began and ended with her mother, her forest, her pack. The world hadn’t extended beyond that, and she’d never had reason to believe it would.)
Dimitri looked at the others. “The hunters took away his magic and his home, and they beat him when he fought back, and he still tried to stand up to them to protect our kind. And if you want to talk about giving in, ask yourself how long you could last.” He barked a single, humorless laugh. “I couldn’t do it. I was ready to give up after a handful of weeks in their cages. Jaime was their prisoner for years. They hurt him for years. And he didn’t sink to their level even after all of that.”
The feeling in the room began to slide from hostility to something more subdued.
Opal wove her fingers through Jaime’s and squeezed.
“Jaime...” Disha’s head tilted to one side, her eyes sad. “Why didn’t you say any of this when we took you from the hunters’ camp?”
Jaime’s hand tightened on Opal’s as he shook his head.
“I don’t know.” He paused, looking away. “I... I didn’t think it mattered. I did do all those things. I didn’t think I deserved anything good after that.” His voice grew quieter. “I’m still not sure I do.”
Disha crossed her arms over her stomach. “Hm. Well, I think you do.”
“So do I,” Abed said. He leaned against Disha. “And not just because I want to stay on her good side.”
Disha smiled at him.
Opal let out a shaky breath, a trickle of relief running through her worry.
But not everyone looked convinced.
“Khalida," Naomi said tersely. “Given the circumstances, I could understand deciding to let him go free. But letting him stay here?”
Khalida took a sharp step forward. Opal almost expected her to sound angry.
But she didn’t. Her voice was even. And a little sad.
“I decided who Jaime was the second I met him. I didn’t let myself see anything else. I expected a hunter. I expected him to hate us and keep try to hurt us, or at the very least, to try to escape. But what have you actually seen since he came here?”
She let the question hang.
“Opal saw the truth right away. I think some of you started to recognize it before me.” Khalida gave Dimitri a wan smile. “I’m not proud of how long it took me. But all I’ve seen Jaime be is kind and patient and helpful and forgiving. Even when we were none of those things.”
Jaime made a small, strangled noise.
“Khalida, that isn’t...” He shook his head. “I’m not—I’m not some perfect person.”
“No. You’re not.” Khalida’s smile turned crooked. “And I’m sure once we get to know you better, you’ll do things that give me grey hairs just like everyone else in this pack.”
“If I hadn’t gone grey years ago, I think you would have already given me several already,” Ash said, warmth running beneath his tone. “Perhaps you’ll be the first to turn one white.”
Jaime’s breathing had gone hitched.
Dimitri’s hand slipped around Jaime’s side, holding him closer. “As soon as the hunters’ collar broke, Jaime could have run away and washed his hands of all of this. But instead, he used the magic he had left to open the cages and save Max’s life. And when he came here—” Dimitri made a noise that hovered between laughter and pain. “Gods, he learned the names of all the pups the second week just so he could compliment their choices of rocks.”
“Dimitri,” Jaime said softly.
“I just want them to see you how I do,” Dimitri said, turning towards him. “I want them to see how good you are. You’re generous and creative and brave, and you care about people, and—”
“Hey, get a room,” Abed called. “My unborn child is listening.”
Opal hiccupped a giggle despite herself.
“I see it,” Abed said, more serious. “You saved my life, Jaime. And you’ve been a good friend to the twins and to Opal and even to Disha.” His mouth twitched. “And a very good friend to Dima. If you wanted to stay, I think we’d be lucky to have you.”
Jaime’s voice was hoarse. “Thank you.”
He drew away from Opal and turned his face into Dimitri’s shoulder for the space of a breath, his shoulders quivering. Dimitri pressed a protective hand against his spine.
“Elli.” Priya leaned forward, looking past Ivan to the other side of the room. “You said you thought his magic was corrupt. ...Whatever that means.”
“I did,” Elli said.
Priya raised an eyebrow. “Well. What do you think now?”
Opal tensed. Jaime straightened, facing Elli with a look of resignation.
Elli stared at the two of them, their pale eyes tired but as piercing as ever.
“I don’t know,” they said.
Someone’s fingers wrapped around Opal’s wrist. Nadia or Alexei, she wasn’t sure.
Heat began to swell in her chest, surprise and hurt ballooning together. Angry words burned in her throat. Surely, after everything—
But Elli kept speaking.
“I don’t have all the answers. I thought I did before, and... clearly I was wrong.” They dragged a hand through their hair. “I still don’t understand what happened with his magic. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before. But I have seen the things he’s done here. And... No. I don’t think he’s a danger to the pack.”
Opal’s breath left her in a dizzying rush. Elli met her gaze.
“I agree with Khali. I think he deserves a chance.” Elli’s mouth twisted in a sharp, sardonic smile. “And unlike Jaime, I’m not a particularly nice person. So I think you can trust that I don’t say that lightly.”
“I agree with Khali too,” Ivan said, rubbing Anya’s back. “If Maya was here, I think she’d feel the same.”
Jaime’s face crumpled. He turned away, blinking fast.
“You know I want Opal and Jaime to stay,” Khalida said. “But I want it to be a place where they can feel at home, magic and all. Is there anyone who feels they won’t be able to let that happen?”
Opal held Jaime’s hand so tightly her fingers started to go numb.
Naomi and Idris and Priya still looked reserved.
But most of the pack looked softer now, regarding her and Jaime with something more like consideration than anger or fear.
“Opal, can you show us something with your magic?” Nina asked hopefully.
Worry sank in Opal’s stomach, cold and heavy as a stone into still water. She looked to Khalida, half expecting the alpha to say it was too risky. (Half hoping she would.)
But Khalida nodded, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Maybe what you showed us last night.”
Opal released Jaime’s hand and lifted her palms in front of her. She took a slow breath in and let it out through her nose. As she did, the ball of light formed in her hands, a buttery yellow that pulsed gently to the rhythm of her heart.
One of the pups yelped.
“Wow,” Nina breathed.
Opal’s magic hummed. Somehow she sensed that it was pleased to be out in the open—happy that she was welcoming it rather than pushing it away. It nudged its way outward and Opal let it swell.
When the light grew to fill her arms, she bent her knees and tossed it upwards.
The light scattered and drifted downwards like drops of sunshine.
Nina reached out to touch one of the sparks.
Opal beamed. She caught Elli’s eye and found them smiling back.
Jaime murmured in Opal’s ear. “I’m so proud of you.”
“That was amazing!” Tiberius cried.
“Jaime, will you show us something too?” Rowan asked, leaning forward in her seat. “Something cool.”
Unsurprisingly, her tone was far more imperious than Nina’s had been.
Naomi frowned but didn’t pull Rowan back.
Jaime turned.
“Is that alright?” he asked Khalida.
If Opal hadn’t been watching for it, she might have missed Khalida’s split-second hesitation. But as quickly as it flashed over her face, it was gone.
Khalida nodded, giving Jaime a small smile.
“You don’t need my permission. Go ahead.”
A rush of heady relief made Dimitri’s knees go weak.
Jaime’s shoulders loosened. He took a small step forward, standing apart from the rest of them.
“I know you’ve had to fear magic in the past. But it’s not all bad. Magic can be wonderful. I’d like to show you something like that.” His voice sounded almost hopeful. “May I?”
Nobody objected.
“Go on, then,” Rowan said eagerly.
Jaime nodded. He let one last steadying breath.
He lifted his hands.
Dimitri saw at least two people flinch.
But Jaime had already closed his eyes. His hands moved fluidly, a series of incantations spilling in whispers from his lips as he shaped the spell. The lines of strain melted away from his face.
Dimitri’s heart thrummed.
Light began to flicker along the flagstones, the soft gold he’d come to associate with Jaime’s magic. It rippled and rose, then began to weave itself into shapes.
Grass formed a thick blanket, with wildflowers lifting up all throughout it as if yawning out of a deep sleep. Jaime’s fingers twitched and a scattering of butterflies and fat bees began to circle lazily through his field.
At first, everything shone the same hue.
Then Jaime’s brow creased with focus and he added another spell.
All at once, his illusion blossomed with color, gold giving way to deep greens and rich blues and blushing pinks.
The pups gasped, scrambling from the benches to touch.
Sofia let out a squeal when one of Jaime’s butterflies flew right through her outstretched palm.
Jaime opened his eyes. They weren’t gold, but shone with an entirely different sort of light.
He turned one hand and a pair of birds dove from nowhere, weaving between the children on silent wings. They were swallows, Dimitri realized, their throats ruby red as they made delicate turns through the rafters.
He watched Jaime as well as the birds. Jaime looked... Content.
“Beautiful,” Ash said, smiling. A few of the adults murmured agreement, entranced as the illusion continued to spread.
Rowan gave a delighted laugh, pouncing on one of the bees and tackling Mila instead, leaving them both half-hidden by the grass.
Dimitri beamed, his chest bubbling with too many things to name.
Jaime’s hands wove through the air, setting the flowers swaying as if in an unseen breeze. One of the butterflies landed on Nina’s outstretched hand, then fluttered to alight on Leo’s head. The birds made a wide arc through the room, turning around Dimitri’s shoulders once before landing, one in front of Elli and the other before Ash. The imaginary wind stopped, the insects all settling onto flowers.
The room fell quiet.
Jaime released a shaky breath.
He brought his palms together and spread them downward.
The illusion dimmed, color bleeding and fading like the sky at sunset until only the flagstones remained.
Jaime stumbled a little, tilting to one side.
Dimitri hurried to take his arm.
“Thank you for letting me show you,” Jaime said, turning to the pack with an expression that bordered on shy. “That’s just an illusion, I know. It’s pretty. But I can use magic to help too, with things that matter. And... I’d like to. If you’d have me.”
“You have to stay, mage,” Leo declared, jumping to his feet. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“And you said you’d help in the garden,” Rowan said. “In the spring. Remember?”
“Since I’m sure our baby will come out full of her father's energy, I certainly wouldn’t mind a touch of that illusion magic when she inevitably can’t settle down,” Disha said, her eyes warm.
“You’ll have to pull him away from Dima first,” Abed said.
“No, Dima will be there, too.” Disha grinned wickedly. “There will be cleaning to do.”
Jaime gave a soft, wet laugh.
“I, for one, would very much enjoy teaching you and learning from you, Jaime,” Ash said. “If that’s what you want.”
Priya sighed, leaning back between Ivan and Disha. Her tone was dry. “I suppose if you’ve won over the troublemakers, you can’t be so bad.” She turned. “Naomi?”
Dimitri watched as Nadia considered Jaime through narrowed eyes.
At last, she gave a brusque nod. “Very well.”
Sasha brushed a hand over hers, looking up with his usual unhurried gravity. “I support Khalida’s decision.”
Khalida came to Jaime’s other side, nudging his arm. “It’s settled then. Opal, Jaime. Welcome home.”
Nadia and Alexei crowed, tackling Opal in an embrace that Nina and Leo hastened to join.
Dimitri turned to Jaime. He held his elbow with one hand, the other sliding to hold Jaime’s face.
Jaime trembled beneath his touch, his eyes wide.
His voice was barely a whisper. “This is... real.”
Dimitri’s heart swelled. “It’s real.”
They moved in at the same time, half kiss and half embrace as they clung to each other, letting the rest of the world fall away for a moment. Jaime smiled against his lips.
When they broke the kiss, Jaime pulled Dimitri closer with a hand to the back of his neck, resting their foreheads together.
“Now you’ll never be rid of me,” Dimitri murmured.
Jaime huffed a laugh.
“Good.”
Opal squeezed between them.
She buried her head in Jaime’s chest, a quiet sob bursting from her lips. Jaime closed his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. Dimitri laid a hand on her back.
“We’re safe,” Jaime said softly. “We’re okay.”
Opal nodded against his shoulder.
Jaime’s eyes closed, his breath catching as he repeated the words like a prayer.
Dimitri stepped to shield them from the rest of the room.
“Jaime?”
Dimitri turned.
Ivan stood just behind him, Anya standing at his side with a blanket clutched in one arm.
Jaime lifted his head, wiping one hand over his cheeks. “Yes?”
Ivan gave him a small smile, speaking quietly. “I hope you’ll both find happiness here.”
Dimitri’s eyes stung.
Jaime swallowed, finding his voice with clear effort.
“Thank you, Ivan.” He returned Ivan’s tentative smile. “So do I.”
The pack scuffled to their feet in the lodge, the sound of voices beginning to climb back to their normal volume.
Jaime glanced out at them, suddenly looking exhausted.
Sofia and Tiberius started to creep toward them, expressions curious.
“Everyone come back in an hour,” Petyr called. “We’ll have something hot ready for breakfast.”
Alexei moved in beside him. “Uncle Dima, maybe we should... take a walk in the forest?”
“Good idea.”
As they were stepping out the door, someone grabbed Dimitri’s shoulder.
“Dima?”
He turned.
Elli drew their hand back as soon as he turned around, crossing their arms over their stomach.
“I want to talk to you.” They tilted their head toward Jaime and Opal. “The three of you. Please.”
Dimitri raised an eyebrow.
“After breakfast?” Elli tried for a smile. “Not on an empty stomach.”
Dimitri gave Jaime and Opal a questioning look.
Opal’s mouth twisted as she nodded.
“Jaime?”
Jaime nodded. “Okay, Elli.”
Elli sagged a little, inclining their head before melting back into the shadows outside the lodge.
“Come on,” Alexei said. “I bet we’ll be the first ones to make footprints in the snow.”
Nadia darted away, pulling Opal by the hand. “Last one there is a pickled fish!”
“Hey!” Alexei took off running. “No head starts!”
Dimitri exchanged a look with Jaime.
“I don’t want to be a pickled fish,” Dimitri said.
“Me neither.”
Jaime looked innocent for a split second.
Then he bolted.
Grinning, Dimitri followed him into the trees.
Jaime ran hard, boots crunching in the snow.
The wind rushed in his ears, biting at his cheeks and whipping ice into his eyes.
He hadn’t felt this light since he’d been a boy by the sea.
He had the chance to make a home.
He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking things would be perfect, or even easy. The ghost of Eskender’s cruelty still hung over him in dark moments, cloudy and sticky-black. Guilt still swirled sour in his stomach whenever he thought about the lives he’d helped to destroy.
But at the same time, he knew that even if he spent the rest of his life punishing himself, he wouldn’t be able to change the past. No matter how severe the punishment. And he was beginning to believe that it was alright for him stop punishing himself altogether, to hope for something different in the future.
A future that was stretching before him—new and uncertain, one he could choose.
The pack knew about Opal. They knew the truth about Jaime’s past. His magic was free, his to shape and share. And even with all that, Dimitri still wanted him. Ash and Khalida and Lada cared for him. The others may not all trust him, but they were willing to give him a chance. If he chose, he could let himself have the good things they offered, this precious second life.
He could have a home.
His lungs stung in the frigid air as he sprinted faster than he had in years. No one else looked to be slowing, either.
All the tension of the last weeks seemed to surge and burst like a soap bubble, leaving behind a frenetic energy that they all needed to burn off away from prying eyes.
The forest flew by around them. Last night’s wild storm had long since settled into rolling drifts of snow, white and thick as an ermine’s winter coat. It squeaked and flew up around their feet.
Finally, Jaime skidded to a halt. The others stopped with him, pausing to catch their breath in the glittering clearing.
Opal and Nadia and Alexei immediately dove to their knees, amassing piles of snowballs as fast as their chilled fingers would form them.
Dimitri turned to Jaime, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the run. He braced a hand against a tree, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the air fogged out in front of him. Flakes drifted down on him from the branches overhead, settling in stark contrast to his dark, windblown hair.
He grinned at Jaime, still panting. “Gods, you’re fast.”
He looked beautiful.
Jaime leaned in and kissed him soundly. Dimitri made a noise of surprise that melted into appreciation, his hands curling around Jaime’s hips.
“Gross!” Nadia shouted. “You have five seconds before we start throwing snowballs!”
Jaime hummed against Dimitri’s mouth.
“Two seconds!” Alexei called.
“No, no more seconds!” Nadia booed. “Come on, it’s snowball fight time, not kissing time!”
Dimitri smirked, nipping once on Jaime’s lower lip before pulling away.
“I’ve never had a snowball fight before,” Jaime said.
Dimitri’s eyes glinted with laughter. “No? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He held up a finger. “But we won’t be going easy on you.”
“Never,” Nadia agreed.
“Hm.” Jaime tilted his head to one side. “I guess I’ll have to make do.”
Dimitri smiled at him. Jaime smiled back.
Then he leaned down, scooped up a handful of snow, and pressed it to the side of Dimitri’s neck.
Dimitri squawked, reaching for him and missing as Jaime darted away.
Jaime wove between the tree trunks, pausing to mash together a quick snowball and toss it at whoever was nearest.
That someone happened to be Nadia. She slung one back at him, striking him in the shoulder.
Jaime ducked as she followed it with a second.
Alexei popped up from a bush to throw one at Opal.
“Behind you!” Nadia cried.
Opal dodged.
“No fair,” Alexei complained.
Everyone merged back into the center of the clearing, snowballs lowered in unspoken agreement.
“Girls against boys?” Nadia suggested.
“But there are only two of you,” Jaime said.
Nadia and Opal exchanged a look. Nadia leaned in to whisper in Opal’s ear.
Opal nodded, lips curling up.
“I think we’ll manage,” Nadia said.
“How do we know who wins?” Jaime asked.
“Trust me,” Dimitri said, suddenly behind him. “You’ll know.”
Then he dropped a snowball down Jaime’s collar.
Jaime yelped and twisted.
Dimitri laughed, dancing out of reach. “And now the team battle can begin.”
The clearing turned into a blur of snowballs and shrieking.
Despite having three on their team, Jaime and Dimitri and Alexei bore the brunt of the fight. Nadia made snowballs at lightning speed, small and solidly packed. Opal was sneaky and fast, delivering the projectiles seemingly out of nowhere.
At one point, she even shifted and scampered up a tree trunk, lying in wait long enough to jump down onto Jaime and send him sprawling into a snowbank.
Spitting out a mouthful of melted snow, Jaime rolled onto his back.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
Opal shifted back and gave him a grin that was positively evil before scampering away.
Alexei’s aim was impeccable, and Dimitri had a knack for guessing what the girls would try next. The two of them bent their heads together for a hasty planning session behind a bush, then burst back out into the fray.
Jaime was unsurprised to learn that he didn’t have a particular gift for snowball fighting.
He was just happy.
His fatigue caught up with him in between bouts, leaving his limbs heavy. He leaned against the nearest tree to give himself a moment, his head resting on the frosted bark as he watched the others play.
Alexei leaned out from behind a tree and threw a huge snowball. It sailed true and struck Nadia in between the shoulder blades, sending her stumbling and cursing in words she definitely wouldn’t have said in front of Max and Mirza.
Opal threw back her head and laughed.
The sound rang out through the forest, high and clear. It seemed to hover in the icy branches above, sparkling in the sun.
Jaime had never heard her laugh out loud before.
His chest filled with something so bright it was almost painful.
Opal caught his eye and raised one hand, concentrating until light appeared. Then she tossed it at Jaime like a snowball. He caught it, letting it dance above his hand for a moment before sending it scattering in a flurry of sparks.
Opal beamed.
“I surrender,” Dimitri gasped, flopping into the center of the clearing. “Whoever wins, it’s not me.”
“Or me,” Jaime agreed.
“Well, then, Opal and Alexei and I all win.” Nadia grinned. “The old people lose.”
Dimitri sent his arms out wide. “I’m not old.”
“The evidence suggests otherwise,” Alexei said.
“You’re older than me,” Jaime said, picking his way over to crouch beside Dimitri.
“By a couple of years, maybe,” Dimitri protested. “And we both lost!”
“We did.” Jaime made a thoughtful sound. “Losers have to kiss, don’t they? At least, that’s how we played in Del Mar.”
“Hm.” Dimitri propped himself up on his elbows. “That seems reasonable.”
Jaime leaned down and kissed him. Their lips were both cold, and Dimitri’s nose felt like ice when it brushed against his cheek.
“Ugh. That’s a weird rule,” Nadia said. Then she paused. “Hey, wait! You said you’d never done this before.”
Alexei snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. I don’t think there’s even snow in Del Mar.”
“New rule,” Nadia said. “No kissing during snowball fights.”
“But the fight is over, isn’t it?” Jaime asked, balancing on his heels.
Opal rolled her eyes at him.
Nadia let out a disgusted sigh. “There’s just no winning with you two.”
“Alright, alright,” Dimitri grumbled. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Jaime stood first, pulling Dimitri to his feet.
Dimitri cupped both of Jaime’s hands between his.
“Too cold?” he asked.
Jaime smiled. “No, I’m fine.”
Opal tugged Jaime’s arm and raised both eyebrows, then made a hurry up gesture.
“Hungry too?” Jaime asked.
Opal nodded.
“You take Dima,” Nadia told Alexei. “Opal and I will take Jaime. Otherwise we’ll never get to breakfast.”
Laughing, Dimitri allowed Alexei to steer him back toward the village.
Nadia and Opal each took one of Jaime’s arms and began to march him in the same direction.
Home.
Elli’s cabin was nearly the same size as Dimitri’s, but seemed smaller simply because of how much they had fit inside. They had stacks of books and papers, jars of different shades of earth, folded clothes and odd trinkets and a single pair of black, wickedly sharp knives.
Jaime tried to make himself look around, focusing on the space instead of the too-fast beating of his own heart. The oatmeal and hot coffee they’d all had for breakfast now sat uneasily in his stomach.
The four of them hovered just inside the door for an awkward moment before Elli cleared their throat and pointed toward the table.
They pushed a chest and a stool over in order to make four seats.
Elli sank down onto the stool.
Dimitri sat on the chest and Jaime settled in beside him.
Opal took the chair, her expression wary.
“Thanks for coming,” Elli said, their hands tapping an agitated rhythm until they clasped them tightly on the table before them. “I don’t have any tea. Or enough cups to serve it even if I did."
“No,” Dimitri said, not as good-natured as his usual teasing was. “I don’t recall you being known for your skills at hosting.”
Elli gave a smile that seemed more like a grimace.
“It’s fine,” Jaime said.
There was a drawn-out silence, thin and sharp as the edge of Elli’s blades.
“I’m sorry,” they said finally.
Dimitri stilled.
Jaime squeezed his hand.
“I was...” Elli sucked in a breath. “Well. I’ve been an arse.”
“You have been,” Dimitri agreed, still with a little bite. “And not in the usual, mostly entertaining way.”
Elli winced. “I know.”
They looked down.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you, Dimitri. And about you. It wasn’t fair.”
“I thought you knew me better than that,” Dimitri said, voice low.
“I do.” Elli shook their head, still staring at the table. “I don’t really think any of that. I was just... angry.”
Jaime pressed his lips together.
Elli had also been scared, he thought. Of Jaime—and of something bigger than him, too. But he didn’t know if they were willing to admit that much.
“You weren’t the only one who was angry,” Dimitri said. “Or hurt.”
“I know.” Elli squeezed their eyes shut. “I thought... I thought I was protecting the pack from something everyone else was too blind to see. But apparently I was the one who couldn’t see.”
Opal’s pencil scratched on paper. She pushed it across the table. Elli opened their eyes.
I tried to tell you before.
Elli let out a strained breath. “You did. I should have listened. Of all people, I should’ve been the first one to recognize what was really going on.”
They opened their mouth as if to continue, then closed it. Their hands clenched hard enough to turn the knuckles white.
The obvious tension in every line of their body made alarms flare in the back of Jaime’s mind.
But Jaime reminded himself—again—that the danger was past. That Elli couldn’t hurt him or Opal anymore, nor did they seem to want to.
So he blew out a breath and asked, “What do you mean?”
For a second, Elli didn’t move. Then they met Jaime’s eyes.
Their words fell like dead leaves, brittle and tired. “My mother was a mage.”
Jaime stared. “What?”
He darted a dance at Dimitri, who looked just as surprised.
"Really?" Dimitri asked. "You've never... Mentioned that."
"I don't like talking about it," Elli snapped. They deflated almost immediately. "I've only ever told Khali and Ash."
"Oh," Dimitri said.
Jaime's mind jumped back to some of the things Ash had said, and the way Khali had deferred to Elli's judgement. It made sense, given this confession.
Elli unclenched their hands, worrying at a groove in the table and speaking again with effort. “My father had magic too, from what she told me, but I don’t remember much about him. I was born into a pack in the north. Northeast, not that it matters. They left when I was a baby and moved to Okrya.”
“They left their pack to live with... humans?” Dimitri asked, head tilting to one side. “Why?”
“Magic.” Elli gave a listless shrug. “My mother wanted any scrap of knowledge and power she could get her hands on, and she’d exhausted what she could find in the pack by the time I was born. Okrya is a big city, and at the time it had a lot of mages. Still does, probably."
Jaime had heard that too. Whenever he’d been especially disappointing to the hunters, Eskender had joked about making the trek to drop him onto a street corner there and take their pick from the magic users in the city.
But you don’t have magic. Opal tapped the paper.
Elli’s expression grew pinched. “No. I don’t. Not for lack of trying.”
Jaime shot them a puzzled look.
Elli pressed their fingers to their forehead for a moment. When they dropped their hand, they directed their attention to Jaime. “My mother was drawn to dark magic. I don’t know what she was like before, but by the time I was old enough to understand anything, that was the only kind of magic she was really interested in.”
“Oh,” Jaime said. “I see.”
“My father had passed, and all she had was magic. And me.” Elli’s words were detached. “She ran a shop selling pastries, with plenty of space for people to read or talk. Everyone loved her. I remember her sitting down there with other mages until the middle of the night researching and experimenting.”
“Were there that many dark mages?” Jaime asked, a shiver snaking down his spine.
“No.” Elli paused. “I don’t think so. Most people thought she was like any other mage. Only a few of them ever saw her real work. She was stuck on trying to figure out how to draw power from other things, or to store it in them.”
“Other things?” Dimitri asked. His hand was still tight on Jaime’s.
“Everything that’s ever been alive has at least some magic in it.” Elli gestured around. “Plants. Animals. Even some stones.” They swallowed hard. “And people.”
Jaime’s stomach sank.
Elli brought one foot up onto the stool, hugging it to their chest and resting their chin on their knee. “She assumed I’d grow up to have magic like her. So did I. I didn’t know anything different than what she taught me. Not for a long time.” Elli made a noise of disgust. “Looking back now, I know her experiments were abominations. But at the time, I was... proud, when she included me in things. And I wanted to make her proud. I was excited to learn from her.”
Opal leaned against the table, pushing her paper towards Elli. But you didn't end up with magic?
“No. I was... nine, maybe. Nine or ten. I hadn’t shown a single sign of having powers of my own. She had me try different things, read books, practice, and none of it ever worked.” Elli's eyes went hollow. “So that became her new project. She was convinced that she could draw my magic out, or find a way to push some into me—something.”
Jaime balked. “What? That’s impossible.”
Elli gave a humorless laugh. “She would say that impossible just meant nobody had tried hard enough yet.” They shrugged. “And sometimes she was right. She figured out a lot of things. Just not that. But she did try. She and her friends. They still did other work together too, but none of it was as exciting as working out what was wrong with me.”
“But nothing was wrong with you,” Dimitri said, something angry simmering beneath his words.
“They said there was. And I believed them.” Elli pushed their hair from their face. “I’d always been around when she worked. Carrying things, fetching samples, taking notes. This was just another way for me to help. For a while, they all praised me for being so willing. But none of it made a difference.”
“Did they stop trying?” Jaime asked quietly. He feared he already knew the answer.
Elli shook their head.
“Not my mother. The others gave up, but not her. If anything, she was even more determined when the rest of them left.”
What did she do? Opal wrote, her eyes large with concern.
“Mm. A lot of things. None of them pleasant.” Elli bit their lip, tracing a circle on the edge of the paper. “I didn’t have anything to compare it to. It was just—normal.”
Jaime and Opal glanced at one another. In their own ways, Jaime thought, they could both understand that.
“At the shop or in the markets, she seemed like a normal mother. Like the perfect mother.” Elli’s voice held something thick and sad. “She would laugh and chat and give people extra butter on their scones. I convinced her to let me go to school for a few years so I could be a better assistant, and she’d make me tea and cookies to have at the corner table while I finished my studies.”
Elli’s face grew shadowed. “At home, she was someone else. She was obsessed. All she cared about was power, and she was convinced that I was the key to unlocking more of it. Every time she tried something new and it didn’t work, or she gave me a test and I couldn’t do it, she got... worse. But she told me it was for my own good, and for the sake of her work.” Elli rolled their shoulders stiffly, as if trying to brush away an invisible hand. “She was my mother. I trusted her.”
“How long did you live like that?” Jaime asked quietly.
Elli tore a strip from the paper, twisting it into smaller pieces. “I started to realize something wasn’t normal when I was fourteen or so. I’d run longer errands for her, or sneak time with friends, or talk with mages from other parts of the city, and—I saw the difference.”
“Did you leave?” Dimitri asked.
“After another year. I tried convincing her to give the dark magic up first. It didn’t work.” Elli shuddered at some unspoken memory. “It was stupid of me. Then I left.”
That must have been scary, Opal wrote.
Elli’s mouth twisted, almost into a smile. “Less scary than staying.”
Dimitri let out a heavy breath. “Had you lived as a human all that time?”
“Yes and no,” Elli said. “I remember shifting and going out into the forests when I was really small. But less and less over time. I don’t think she ever shifted in the last few years. I did sometimes, but I had no idea how to live in a pack. I was pretty shit at living with humans, really, but even worse with other wolves.”
“It’s not like you had the chance to learn,” Jaime said.
“No. But I was...” Elli blew out a breath. “I was fucked up. I couldn’t trust anybody. I tried to live with two different packs. But I was too angry and flighty and difficult and—well. You’ve met me. I’m not exactly an alpha’s favorite kind of wolf to have around. I gave up after the second time and decided I’d just live alone, and visit human cities when I started to feel like I’d jump out of my skin if I had to spend another day with only trees for company.”
Then you met Khalida, Opal wrote.
A smile twitched at one corner of Elli’s mouth. “Then I met Khalida. And somehow all of you idiots decided you could put up with me.”
“Probably because you’re an idiot too,” Dimitri said, affection blunting his words.
Elli’s posture loosened. “Mm. Probably.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaime said. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
Elli turned a look on Jaime hovered somewhere between surprised and exasperated. “I know that now. And it’s exactly why I should have seen the signs in you. I didn’t. Or if I did, I ignored them. I’m here to say I’m sorry, remember?”
“Soak it in,” Dimitri said. “They don’t say it often.”
“I do not,” Elli agreed. They sobered. “But thank you.”
Opal fiddled with her pen. She wrote a line and crossed it out, then tried again. I forgive you. Mostly.
Elli raised an eyebrow. “So easily? Did my tragic story win you over?”
They sounded light, but something fragile lurked behind it.
Jaime nudged Opal beneath the table.
Opal made a face at Elli before writing more.
It helps me understand. And you already said you’ll give me and Jaime a chance. If you're kind to us from now on, I'll give you one too. Opal paused, then scribbled another sentence. And I think you’re interesting. And funny.
Elli read the note, a line between their brows, then a toothy grin spread over their face. “She thinks I’m interesting and funny, Dima.”
Opal rolled her eyes.
“Jaime thinks I’m funny,” Dimitri said.
Jaime gave him a mock-shove.
“I think he’s a little biased,” Elli said.
It’s not a contest, Opal wrote, somehow managing to convey being put upon. I just mean I want to try being your friend.
Elli’s expression softened. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
Opal gave Elli a meaningful look. But if you hurt Jaime again, you'll be on my bad side forever.
"That makes two of us," Dimitri said.
Elli swallowed, them managed a wry smile. "I know. I'd expect nothing less."
For a moment, they looked lost in thought.
Some of their earlier accusations came rushing back, stinging in the corners of Jaime's mind.
He paused, rubbing his sleeve between his fingers and choosing his words carefully. “You can sense magic. Is that because of... of what happened to you?”
“I have no idea.” Elli spread one hand, looking at their palm. “I just know I can. I can't remember if I always could, or if it came later. I guess it doesn't matter. It's useful." They dropped their arm. "I hated everything to do with magic for a while. But magic itself isn't the problem.”
Jaime frowned. “I thought you still hated magic.”
Elli’s eyebrows rose. They dropped their leg back to the ground. “What? No. Not at all. I hate dark magic, and the mages who choose to use it for their own gain.” Their words were sharp, full of feeling. “It’s disgusting and selfish, and it eats away at anything good it gets its claws into.”
Jaime flinched before he could stop himself.
He dropped his eyes to the edge of the table. The question he’d wanted to ask stabbed its way up his throat.
His words came out sounding too small. “Do you really think my magic is corrupt? And I... just don’t realize it?”
Elli went still.
“I’ve never met a mage who didn’t want to use the dark magic before,” they said slowly. “Who was forced to. Somehow, it seems like that must make a difference. None of the dark mages I knew could do what you can.”
Jaime glanced up, a tendril of hope rising in his chest. “No?”
“No.” Somewhere outside, a hawk’s cry echoed over the village. Elli looked toward the window, their face pensive. “You called on nature and it helped you freely. You’ve healed, you’ve built true wards. You’re kind. You’re not like any dark mage or any hunter I’ve met.” They gave him a tiny smile. “And it seems like you have a good heart. Maybe the magic knew that, and it protected you as much as it could for all those years. That's the best guess I have."
Jaime’s eyes burned. He turned away, blinking hard. Dimitri’s hand slid to the top of his thigh, squeezing gently.
“I hated it,” he rasped. “I hated every page of Khan’s book. I hated every dark spell I cast. I never want to touch anything like that again.”
“And you shouldn’t,” Elli said, all seriousness. “If I were you, I wouldn’t risk even a breath of dark magic ever again. For your sake as much as anyone else’s.”
Jaime shook his head fervently. “I won’t.”
“I believe you.” Elli met his gaze again. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Truly."
Jaime looked at them for a moment. Their expression was apprehensive, their green eyes bright.
He could hold onto the fear and pain they'd caused him. But he'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. He was tired of it—and he wanted something better.
“Thank you,” he said at last. “I’d like to try again.”
A layer of tension melted from Elli’s shoulders. “So would I.”
“Me too,” Dimitri said. He rose, pulling Elli from the stool and into a tight embrace. “You may be an arse, but you’re my arse.”
Elli let out a watery laugh, half-muffled in Dimitri’s shoulder. “I don’t think that sounds as good as it did in your head.”
“Shut up,” Dimitri said, pushing Elli away.
Elli reached up to mess up his hair. “Thanks anyway.”
Dimitri scowled at them, smoothing it back down. “You and Abed.”
“Jaime will fix it for you,” Elli said, smirking. “Or maybe make it worse.”
Jaime’s face warmed.
Opal snickered.
“That's enough heart-to-hearts for me,” Elli said, dragging a hand over their face. “For at least a year.”
“You should take a day off after that,” Dimitri agreed. "Maybe two."
At this, Elli hesitated. “Actually, I spoke with Khali. I’m going to make a trip to Tirsk. There are a few things I wanted to get from one of the southern cities before the last trip went to shit.”
Jaime had almost forgotten that Elli had been on a trip with a purpose when they’d run across the hunters.
“Oh.” Dimitri paused, then nodded. “You could take Akash? Maybe speed things along?”
Elli wrinkled their nose at him. “Do I look like someone who travels on a horse?”
“I think Alexei is hoping we’ll teach him to ride anyway,” Jaime said.
“Much better use for a horse.” Elli brushed invisible dirt from their clothes. “I won’t be long. I just... need to clear my head.”
Dimitri gave them a wistful look. “Say hello to Nantale for me, then.”
“I will. We all know you’re her favorite.”
“Well, tell her I asked her to give you the extra cakes she would normally give me, then.”
Elli made a rude gesture at him. “Fine. And you’ll barely notice I’m gone. It’ll be an easy trip. There and back. No problems.”
“Don’t say that,” Dimitri warned. “It’s bad luck.”
Jaime smiled. “Now you sound like someone from Tirsk.”
“It will be an easy trip,” Elli said. “I’m demanding it from whatever gods might be listening.”
They turned away and bustled to one of their shelves, moving books out of the way to withdraw something.
Beside Jaime, Opal was writing quickly, her head bent over the page.
Jaime's thoughts drifted. He studied a scroll pinned to the far wall.
“Jaime,” Elli said carefully.
Jaime caught himself just in time to avoid jumping. He would get used to it. With a little more time.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t ask you before. For... obvious reasons.” Elli held out a small wooden box. “But will you take a look at this while I’m gone?”
Jaime accepted the box, withdrawing the leather cuff Elli had been wearing when they’d been found in the storm.
The touch of it against his skin made Jaime shiver.
“I’ve tried everything I can and I’m at a loss. But I think it’s worth figuring out.” Elli’s face contorted. “Something about those hunters. It’s still eating at me.”
Jaime slipped it back into the box and closed the lid. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.
Opal appeared before Elli, extending a fresh piece of paper. As soon as the paper left Opal’s grasp, she seized one of Jaime’s hands in both of hers, nerves seeming to crescendo as she watched Elli’s face.
Elli read the note aloud.
I’d like to write a letter to some innkeepers I used to know. I don’t know what the town was called, but I know the name of the inn. Will you help me try to send it to them?
Elli folded the paper.
They smiled at Opal as they tucked it away.
“Of course.”