His perception was uncomfortably accurate. I turned away, focusing on the lake's dark surface rather than his searching gaze. "It's not that simple."
"Why not?" Milo moved to stand beside me, his shoulder nearly touching mine. "Because of Bureau regulations? Or because you're scared?"
"I am not scared," I snapped, my control slipping. "I am being responsible. My Seer abilities make emotional entanglements dangerous. My father," I cut myself off, unwilling to revisit that particular pain.
"Your father lost control," Milo finished softly. "Winter told me what you shared with her. But you're not your father, Fenric."
I closed my eyes briefly, gathering my composure. "You don't understand the risk. Seer blood combined with strong emotion can distort reality. And with Winter's prophetic energy already so unstable..."
"So you're protecting her? Or yourself?"
The question hung in the air between us, uncomfortably perceptive. I remained silent, unwilling to answer yet unable to dismiss it entirely.
Milo sighed, then lowered himself to sit on a fallen log nearby. He patted the space beside him in invitation. After a moment's hesitation, I joined him, the informality of theseating arrangement making me uncharacteristically aware of my posture.
"Can I tell you something?" Milo's voice was gentler now. "Something I've never told anyone else?"
Curiosity overcame my reticence. "If you wish."
"I was terrified the first time with Winter," a faint blush colored his cheeks. "Not just because I'd never been with anyone before, but because I was afraid my necromantic energy would hurt her somehow. That I'd lose control and my magic would, I don't know, do something awful."
I hadn't considered this perspective. "Necromancy is fundamentally different from Seer abilities."
"Maybe," he shrugged. "But the fear is the same, isn't it? The fear that the power inside us will hurt the people we care about." He looked at me directly. "But that's not what happened. When we were together, our energies, they harmonized. Her prophetic markings and my necromancy, they complemented each other. It was beautiful, Fenric."
I shifted uncomfortably on the log, unused to such intimate discussions. "I fail to see how this relates to my situation."
Milo laughed softly. "For someone so smart, you can be really dense sometimes." He nudged my shoulder with his own, a casual familiarity that would have offended me from anyone else. "What I'm saying is that maybe what you're afraid of, your Seer abilities interacting with Winter's prophecy, might actually be something amazing instead of something dangerous."
The possibility hadn't occurred to me. My entire life had been structured around containment, control, the careful management of my inherited abilities to prevent the kind of chaos my father had unleashed. The idea that connection might strengthen rather than destabilize was unsettling in its implications.
"And if you're wrong?" My voice was barely a whisper.
"Then we deal with it together," Milo shrugged. "That's what we do now. We're a team, Fenric. A family, even if it's the weirdest family ever assembled."
"The Bureau would not approve," I muttered, though the objection sounded weak even to my own ears.
"When has the Bureau ever approved of anything good?" Milo grinned. "Besides, Winter likes you. Like, really likes you. And I think you like her too."
I remained silent, unwilling to confirm what we both knew was true.
"And for what it's worth," Milo continued, his voice softening, "I like you too. Even when you're being a bureaucratic pain in the ass."
That startled a small laugh from me, the sound strange to my own ears. "Your assessment of my character is not entirely inaccurate."
"High praise coming from you," he smiled, then grew serious again. "Winter cares about all of us, Fenric. In different ways, maybe, but it's real. And I think, I think that's what the prophecy meant. 'The Harbinger belongs to all.' Not as a possession, but as a connection. A bond that makes all of us stronger together."
I considered his words, turning them over in my mind. The logical part of me wanted to dismiss them as naive optimism, but another part, perhaps the Seer blood that occasionally granted insights I didn't seek, recognized the ring of truth in what he said.
"I don't know how to do this," the confession difficult but necessary as it came out of me. "My entire existence has been defined by rules, protocols, boundaries. This arrangement defies categorization."
"That's kind of the point," Milo smiled gently. "Some things are too big, too important to fit in neat little boxes. Like prophecies. Like families. Like love."
The word hung in the air between us, neither of us acknowledging it directly yet unable to ignore its presence.
"I should return to the cabin," I stood abruptly, needing space to process this conversation. "It's late."
Milo rose as well, the blanket still draped around his shoulders. "Think about what I said? Please?"
