"He already is good at this. Now he knows it too."
"Because you made sure he was ready."
"Because he did the work." I meet Brakkor's gaze steadily. "Just like you did. Just like we all did."
His smile turns softer, more genuine than his usual sharp-edged grins. "Isn't he so glad that he knows better than to doubt you now?"
"Are you talking about Jamie or yourself?"
"Both." He leans closer, voice dropping. "Though I'm particularly glad about my own enlightenment."
"Oh, are you?"
"Extremely." His mouth hovers just above mine. "Want me to show you how glad?"
I laugh against his lips. "In front of the entire town square?"
"They're all reading our article. Excellent distraction."
When he kisses me, it tastes like triumph and something warmer—the kind of certainty that comes from choosing each other repeatedly until it becomes instinct. Outside, the festival preparations continue with renewed energy, but inside this moment, everything feels perfectly settled.
“Besides… I think we could try giving Jamie something good to write,” he teases, “so he can convince you to take The Whisle back to the racy gossip rag it used to be.”
I laugh, kissing him again. “Not like they don’t have enough of that outside of the paper already.”
CHAPTER 30
BRAKKOR
The festival hits me like walking into a living painting—all warm light and laughter, the kind of scene I'd dismissed as impossible fantasy just weeks ago. Lanterns strung between timber posts cast golden pools across cobblestones, while fiddle music weaves through conversations in a dozen languages. The air tastes of cinnamon, roasted nuts, and something sweet I can't identify but want to follow until I find its source.
I move through the crowd, still adjusting to how easily people smile at me now. Not the careful politeness I received when I first arrived, but genuine warmth. Liora waves from her apothecary stall, where bottles of autumn-colored liquid swirl like captured sunset.
"Brakkor! Come see what the Guild sent back with my supplies."
She holds up a bottle that shimmers in the lantern light. "Compensation fabric, they called it. As if I needed anything beyond my regular order returned." Her eyes twinkle. "Though I won't complain about extra inventory."
"Looks like half the town's wearing new clothes tonight."
"Festival tradition, Alma can't help herself." She leans closer conspiratorially. "Though between you and me, everyone's been waiting for an excuse to celebrate properly. Your investigation gave us that."
The word 'your' still catches me off guard. Three weeks ago, I was the unwelcome outsider assigned to write about flower shows and bake-off winners. Now I'm apparently part of the fabric that holds this place together.
I excuse myself and continue through the festival, drawn by the scent of fresh bread toward Maddie's stall. It overflows with golden loaves, sweet pastries, and what appears to be half the town's population. Maddie moves behind the counter like a conductor orchestrating chaos, directing her two newly hired assistants while maintaining cheerful banter with customers.
"Three honey cakes, two loaves of the festival bread, and yes, Mr. Harroway, I saved you a apple tart even though you're twenty minutes late," she calls out, somehow managing to package orders while keeping track of payment and change.
A pixie child tugs at my sleeve, barely reaching my elbow. "Mister Brakkor! Mama says you saved the festival!"
I crouch to her eye level, unsure how to respond to such earnest gratitude. "Your mama's very kind, but lots of people worked to make sure the festival happened."
"But you wrote the story that caught the bad man!"
Before I can explain that investigations involve more than just writing, she presses a small flower crown into my hands and darts away, giggling. The crown is clearly pixie-made—delicate wildflowers woven with spider silk and morning dew, still fresh despite the evening hour.
"Looks good on you."
I turn to find Thornak approaching, a mug of something that smells like spiced cider in each hand. He offers me one, his usual stern expression softened by what might actually be amusement.
