"We did it," she says simply.
"We did." The words feel strange in my mouth—too easy, too clean. I'm accustomed to investigations ending in damage, not resolution.
"You're not used to winning, are you?"
Her observation hits closer than I expect. "Not without someone getting hurt."
"No one got hurt this time."
The truth of it settles between us, solid and real. We chose this together, fought for it together, and somehow managed to protect what mattered without destroying everything else in the process.
"Ready to go home?" Thornak calls from the wagon.
Home. The word doesn't feel foreign anymore.
We climb into the wagon bed, settling beside each other as Thornak guides us back toward Harvest Hollow. Not racing to stop something this time—just returning to see what we managed to save.
CHAPTER 29
CALLA
The carriages roll into town like salvation itself—four sturdy wagons bearing the Guild's three-pronged seal, their wheels clattering against cobblestones with the most beautiful sound I've heard in weeks. From my position on the Whistle's front steps, I watch vendors pour from their shops like water breaking through a dam.
"There's Maddie's flour," Brakkor murmurs beside me, pointing to sacks being unloaded from the second carriage.
Relief floods through me so completely my knees nearly buckle. The festival will happen. My town will survive.
Brakkor's arm slides around my waist, pulling me against his solid warmth. "You did it."
"We did it."
"No." His voice carries quiet conviction. "This was your choice, your fight. I just followed your lead."
Before I can argue, his mouth finds mine—gentle but certain, tasting of morning coffee and something that might be pride. When he pulls back, his grey-green eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my chest tight.
"Congratulations, Editor Mercer."
"Don't get formal on me now, Vane."
His grin transforms his entire face, erasing the perpetual wariness I've grown accustomed to. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Across the square, chaos unfolds in the most wonderful way. Mrs. Penwhistle directs two Guild workers toward her fabric stall while simultaneously scolding her husband for getting underfoot. Pixie children dart between the carriages like excited sparrows, their laughter mixing with the deeper voices of dwarven vendors checking inventory lists.
"Cal!" Maddie's voice cuts through the commotion as she barrels toward us, flour already dusting her apron despite the early hour. "They brought everything! Every last bag of flour, every jar, even the special honey I ordered for your scones."
"Can you manage the festival orders now?"
"Manage them? I'll have enough to feed half the valley." She grabs my hands, bouncing slightly on her toes. "The Guild even included compensation for delayed deliveries. I can hire extra help, extend my hours, maybe even try that cherry cake recipe I've been hoarding."
Her joy radiates outward, infectious and warming. This is why I fought so hard—for moments like this, where my people's faces light up instead of creasing with worry.
"Speaking of which," Maddie continues, "I need to get back. These festival preparations won't handle themselves." She pauses, glancing between Brakkor and me with a knowing smile. "You two should come by later. I might have some leftover celebration pastries that need proper testing."
She disappears into the crowd, already calling orders to the Guild workers unloading her supplies.
"She's going to work herself into exhaustion," Brakkor observes.
"She loves it. The busier she gets, the happier she becomes."
