Page 8 of Love At First Roar
“You entered Hollow Oak through the Veil last night, uninvited. Yet the forest permitted your passage.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, voice steady. “I cast a protection spell and it misfired. I didn’t expect it to open a door.”
Varric’s gaze narrowed. “And yet the door opened for you. Curious.”
She nodded once, lips tight. “I don’t pretend to understand why. But I didn’t come to harm anyone.”
Callum shifted his weight, instinctively tracking the emotions rippling off her. Nervous, but not deceitful. Her magic buzzed soft as bees, restrained but crackling with old energy. Fae. Wild. Untrained.
Varric turned his head, slow and deliberate. “Callum.”
He stepped forward.
“Yes, Elder.”
“You found her. You carried her in. And you felt the Veil’s pulse, did you not?”
“I did.” He didn’t elaborate. Varric hated excuses.
“The Veil favors her. Or fears her. Either way, she stays. But she stays watched.”
Callum felt suddenly like a babysitter instead of a guardian.
“No one else can monitor her safely,” Varric said. “She responds to you. You will report on any further disturbances. If the Veil continues to shift or show signs of weakness, you will act accordingly.”
It wasn’t a request.
Callum clenched his jaw. “Understood.”
Cora looked over at him. She didn’t smile, but something in her eyes softened. Like she was grateful. Like she knew the kind of order he just got handed and didn’t resent him for it.
Which made it worse.
“Miss Thorne,” Varric said, “you may remain in town. But be aware. We do not take kindly to chaos. If the Veil cracks, if harm comes to Hollow Oak through you, there will be no second chances.”
“I understand,” she said again.
And she meant it. He could hear it. She was scared, sure. But not because of them. Something else chased her. Something worse than the council.
Maeve stepped up beside him, her voice pitched low.
“Well, congratulations, big cat. You’ve got yourself a houseguest. Or a very magical barn cat. Maybe both.”
“I didn’t volunteer.”
“Didn’t have to. The Veil already picked.”
He growled low, quiet. “She’s not a pet.”
Maeve blinked innocently. “Didn’t say she was. But if you end up sniffing after her tail, don’t pretend I didn’t warn you.”
Callum turned back to the circle, but Cora was already speaking with Twyla, laughing softly, pointing up at the trees like she was naming stars. Like she had always belonged here.
He didn’t like the way that twisted something warm in his gut.
After the meeting, they walked back toward the inn in tense silence. Cora hobbled carefully on the trail, her steps steadier now, though she still favored the bruised knee.
She spoke first.
