Page 48 of To The Final End
I hang back, watching. That’s my job. Has been since long before I knew what I was.
She’s different this morning. Still Bree—still the woman who woke up tangled between Thane and Stellan on the grass, still the woman who limped back to bed with a satisfied smile and fell asleep for another three hours next to me. But something’s shifted.
She’s not bracing.
That’s what catches me. The old Bree braced for everything—touch, kindness, change. This Bree walks through goodbyes like someone who expects to come back.
Zira finds us in the main hall, arms crossed, expression carefully blank. She’s not fooling anyone.
“So,” Zira says. “You’re actually doing this.”
“I’m actually doing this.”
“Stupid.”
“Probably.”
They stare at each other. Zira breaks first, pulling Bree into a hug that’s more tackle than embrace.
“My room,” Bree says against her shoulder. “Use it while I’m gone. The bed’s ridiculous and the bathtub could fit six people.”
“I know. I helped you test that theory.”
Bree laughs. Zira doesn’t let go.
“You don’t have to stay here to be ours,” Zira says, quiet enough that I almost miss it. “You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Good.” Zira pulls back, her usual sharpness sliding back into place. “Now get out of here before I say something embarrassing.”
Bree’s already moved on before Zira’s mask fully settles. But I see it slip. Just for a second.
I file it away. Keep walking.
Mairen’s waiting in the kitchen, because of course she is. The woman has some kind of sixth sense for departures. The counter is covered in wrapped packages—food for the road, enough to feed an army for a week.
“You’ll eat,” Mairen says. Not a question.
“I’ll eat.”
“And you’ll sleep. Properly. Not whatever you call sleep when you’re running yourself into the ground.”
“I’ll try.”
Mairen’s hands flutter—adjusting a package, smoothing a napkin, finding reasons to keep moving. Then she stops. Looks at Bree with something raw in her eyes.
“When we came here,” she says slowly, “I thought we were following power. A queen. Something to kneel to.” She shakes her head. “But that’s not what you gave us. You gave us a home. A real one.”
Bree’s throat works.
“And now you can leave,” Mairen continues. “You can go back to wherever you came from, and this place will still be standing when you get back. That’s how I know you did it right.”
I watch Bree’s shoulders loosen. Watch the tension she didn’t know she was carrying drain away.
“Thank you,” Bree whispers. “For everything.”
“Thank me by eating the sandwiches.”
