Page 45 of Roaring Spell

But by the time I reach the street, there’s no one there.

Just shadows. Just empty cobblestones. Just the lingering sense that we were watched.

I search for twenty minutes. Check every alley, every doorway, every corner. Find nothing.

When I return, Sakura is standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself.

“Anything?”

“No. Whoever it was, they’re gone.”

“They were watching us.”

“Yes.”

She shivers. “The Preservers?”

“Probably.” I don’t want to leave her. Every instinct screams to stay, to guard, to keep her safe. “Double your wards tonight. I’ll have Elio’s people increase patrols.”

“Okay.” She’s small in the doorway. Scared in a way she rarely shows. “Torin?”

“Yes?”

“The poem.” She manages a weak smile. “It’s awful.”

“I’m aware.”

“I love it anyway.”

My heart does ridiculous things. “I’ll write you more.”

“I’d like that.”

I walk home through empty streets, frustration sharpening with every step. We were close. So close.

The mist eddies around me as I walk, taking on silver undertones I’ve learned to read as agitation. The whole town seems unsettled—lights flickering in windows, distant sounds of night creatures more active than usual.

Someone was watching us. Someone knows.

The Preservers. It has to be. Valesh’s people, monitoring their target. Making sure they know our patterns.

I reach my cabin as the first hints of dawn touch the sky. Don’t bother sleeping. I write for a while.

I set down the pen. Stare at the words.

Overwrought. Melodramatic. The kind of writing that would make my father raise an eyebrow and say nothing, which is worse than criticism.

I keep the page anyway.

But she smiled. She said she loved the awful poem.

The watcher, whoever they were, just made a mistake. They showed their hand. Revealed that they’re paying attention, that they consider us a threat worth monitoring.

Now I know to watch back.

And when we find them—if it is Valesh and a cell of believers—they’ll learn what it means to threaten the woman I love.

NINE