Page 10 of Whisker me Away
She stared at his outstretched hand like it might bite her, but eventually took it. The spark of connection when their palms touched made his tiger purr so loudly he was surprised she couldn't hear it. When she was on her feet, he didn't immediately let go, and she didn't pull away.
"I should get to the apothecary," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "I have customers coming in this morning."
"The apothecary can wait." Kieran tucked the journal under his arm, noting how her magic had left its imprint on the leather cover. Something about that residual energy called to his tiger. "First, we're getting breakfast and talking this through properly. You can't save the world on an empty stomach."
"I'm not hungry."
"I am." He guided her toward the garden path with a gentle hand on her lower back, ignoring the way the simple contact made his skin burn. "And I think better with coffee."
They walked to the Hearth & Hollow Inn in charged silence, the easy camaraderie from earlier replaced by something morecomplex. Kieran kept his distance, hyperaware of every step she took beside him and fighting the urge to pull her closer.
Something was happening between them. Something his tiger recognized even if his human brain wasn't ready to put a name to it yet.
Miriam was in the inn's kitchen when they arrived, flour dusting her silver hair as she pulled a batch of apple cinnamon scones from the oven. Her half-moon spectacles caught the morning light as she looked up at them, taking in the obvious tension with the sharp perception that had made her such an effective council member.
"Well, well," she said, setting the scones on a cooling rack. "You two look like you've been through a war."
"Something like that," Kieran said, deliberately not looking at Freya. "Do you have a few minutes to talk? About the investigation?"
"Of course, dear." Miriam poured three cups of coffee from the pot that always seemed to be brewing in her kitchen. "Freya, honey, you look exhausted. When's the last time you ate something substantial?"
The simple maternal concern seemed to crack something in Freya's composure. She accepted the coffee with shaking hands, wrapping her fingers around the mug like it was a lifeline.
Kieran gave Miriam the abbreviated version of what they'd discovered, watching his foster mother's expression grow increasingly grave as he described the Thornweaver and the failing binding spell. He kept his voice clinical, professional, trying to ignore the way Freya flinched every time he referred to her family's legacy as a "situation to handle."
"The Bloom guardian bloodline," Miriam said when he finished. "I should have guessed. Your grandmother was always so secretive about certain aspects of your family's magic, dear."
"You knew?" Freya's voice was sharp with accusation.
"I suspected." Miriam's tone was gentle but unapologetic. "There are old families in Hollow Oak who carry burdens the rest of us can't imagine. We don't ask questions because we trust them to handle what needs handling."
"Well, I'm not handling it very well," Freya said bitterly.
"You're handling it better than you think." Miriam reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "The fact that you found that journal, that you're facing this truth instead of running from it, tells me everything I need to know about your character."
Kieran watched the exchange with growing... something. Not quite admiration, but close. Everyone kept acting like Freya was some kind of hero for stumbling onto information she should have had years ago. Meanwhile, his tiger was practically vibrating every time she looked upset.
"Kieran," Miriam said, turning those perceptive eyes on him. "Walk with me for a moment."
She led him to the inn's back garden, where late-blooming roses climbed a trellis beside the kitchen door. The morning sun caught in their petals, creating patterns of light and shadow that reminded him why Miriam's gardens were legendary throughout the region.
"That girl is carrying a heavy burden," Miriam said without preamble.
"I know." Kieran crossed his arms, defensive. "That's why I'm helping."
"Is it?" She studied his face with the intensity that had always made him feel like she could read his mind. "I think it looks like you're fighting something a lot more personal than professional concern."
His tiger snarled at the direct hit. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Miriam's voice was gentle but relentless. "You've been pacing like a caged animal since you walked inhere. Every time Freya looks upset, your jaw tightens like you're restraining yourself from doing something. And you're standing as far away from her as you can manage while still being in the same conversation."
"She's a client. I'm maintaining professional boundaries."
"Kieran Holt, I raised you from fifteen years old. Do you really think you can lie to me?" Miriam's expression softened. "What's really going on here?"
The question hung in the autumn air between them. Kieran stared at the roses, their deep red blooms reminding him uncomfortably of Freya's heritage garden, and felt his carefully constructed walls beginning to crack.
"I don't know," he said finally, the admission scraping his throat raw. "There's something about her that makes my tiger... react. But it doesn't matter. She made her choice about me years ago."
