Page 17 of Mate Night Snack
Varric nodded. “She stays. Under guard.”
“Do you remember what happened the last time we had to keep watch on someone?” Maeve asked.
Varric only said, “My judgement stands. If Emmett thinks it’s worth it, then the council will trust him to keep watch. For now.”
Maeve muttered under her breath as they dispersed, “You’re getting soft, Hollowell.”
He didn’t answer. Because somewhere deep in his chest, something old stirred and he wasn’t sure if it was the past Katniss was digging up or something else that he thought he had buried.
7
KATNISS
Katniss tossed her duffel onto the bed and flopped down with a huff. The mattress was firmer than she liked, the headboard had a suspicious wobble, and the lace curtains gave off a vibe that screamedyour grandmother’s doilies are watching.
She’d been moved—upgraded, according to Miriam—to a larger room at the back of the inn. Quieter. Private. Which, Katniss suspected, really meantwithin earshot of Emmett Hollowell’s patrol route.
The window faced the woods. Not the picturesque part near Moonmirror Lake, but the old trails that sloped into mist and shadow. She could hear the trees groaning softly in the breeze. Sometimes they sounded like they were whispering to each other.
Or maybe she just needed more sleep.
She dropped onto the bed and exhaled, letting the floral quilt puff up around her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what this was. A soft kind of surveillance. The room happened to be along the path Emmett walked every day during patrols. The same Emmett who hadn’t spoken more than five words to her sincecarrying her through the woods last night. Or really since she had gotten there.
And those five words had been:“Don’t make me regret this.”
Charming.
She rolled onto her side and looked toward the window. Just past the garden, the woods waited. And somewhere in that blur of green and gold, Emmett Hollowell was probably scowling at a squirrel and pretending he didn’t care she existed.
A knock pulled her out of her thoughts.
She sat up. “Come in.”
Miriam peeked in, holding a plate and a half-lifted brow. “I figured you didn’t eat anything yesterday that didn’t come with emotional trauma, so I made cheese biscuits.”
Katniss blinked. “You’re a saint.”
“Careful,” Miriam said, setting the plate on the dresser. “I’m only sweet on days that end in biscuits. Which, around here, is most days.”
Katniss smiled and reached for one, then hesitated.
“It’s just butter and love. Eat.”
She did. Warm, flaky, a hint of thyme. She closed her eyes for a second longer than necessary.
“I put you back here because you’ll have more privacy,” Miriam said, watching her carefully. “But also because the back porch is on Emmett’s path. You’ll see him most mornings. And evenings.”
Katniss nodded slowly. “How... convenient.”
“Careful with him,” Miriam said softly. “He’s still learning to come back to people.”
“I’m not trying to unravel him.”
“No. But you’ve already started.” Then the woman left, door clicking shut behind her.
Katniss stared at it for a beat, then looked back down at the half-eaten biscuit in her hand.
“Great,” she muttered. “I’m a walking existential crisis magnet.”
