Page 44 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

Now, Furnie eagerly leaned into Tavrin’s touch, bushy foxlike tail flicking sparks as its fur glowed like fading coals. She nipped at Tavrin’s hand when he stopped petting, but he wasn’t watching the fox. His gaze stayed fixed on Brunna, like a man still half-astonished by his own good fortune.

Tavrin spotted Wren first, grinning and waving. Furnie darted over to greet her, brushing against her hooves before bounding away again. The air shimmered hotter near the forge, sparks snapping in the trough. Brunna peered over her shoulder, her grin breaking wide, hammer pausing mid-strike.

“Acorn! I wasn’t expecting you today!”

She strode forward, hooves thudding against the packed dirt, and pulled Wren into a hug that nearly took her off the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, Wren caught Orzen mouthing Acorn? A grin started to form—right up until she shot him a glare sharp enough to rival his blade.

“I’m only finishin’ a few orders,” Brunna said, voice bright and sunny as the forge-fire. “Tav’s been hoverin’ around me like a moth to a flame. Thinks I’ll vanish if he looks away too long.”

“Waited too long to get you.” Tavrin chuckled, rising to his hooves and planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now.”

She shook her head, half-exasperated, half-glowing. Then her eyes drifted past Wren toward the doorway, snagging on the broad figure lurking beyond the reach of the firelight.

“You brought company?” Tavrin asked, squinting against the light, curiosity edging his tone.

At the same moment, Brunna’s expression shifted. Hospitality dropped away like a curtain. The forge went quiet except for the hiss of the coals.

“You.” Her eyes flared, and she pointed her hammer straight at Orzen, voice hitting like a strike on steel. “I told you to keep away.” She was already pushing past Wren, the heat from her stride rolling off her like the forge itself, fists balled, when Tavrin caught her arm.

“You’ve got that look again, the one that ends with us needing a new hammer. Maybe let the man speak first?”

Brunna whirled on him so fast Wren swore her hooves sparked. “This man’s been watchin’ us too closely,” she snapped, glare swinging back to Orzen. “So? What’s your excuse now?”

Orzen met her stare evenly. “Picking up an order for Marda,” he said, voice steady, but his shoulders drew back, caught between retreat and standing his ground.

“Helpin’ poor widows?” Brunna’s eyes narrowed. “Seems a convenient way to earn trust. But you won’t have mine.”

“He hasn’t been so bad,” Wren said quickly, looking between them. “Fixed Marda’s roof too. And he’s very apologetic about being…suspicious the other day.”

“Don’t speak for him,” Brunna said, though her voice gentled when she looked at Wren. “Acorn…plenty of steel seems strong till you press hard enough to find the cracks.”

“You’re right.” His tone was steady now, stripped of the humor he’d been hiding behind. “I’ve no right to your trust. And plenty to apologize for. I’m trying to make up for it.”

Brunna blinked as if she hadn’t expected him to agree. The hammer wavered, her grip loosening a fraction. “Warnin’ still stands. You hurt anyone here, I’ll flatten you.”

“It’s not a crime to make a mistake.” Tavrin laid a hand on her shoulder, voice calm but firm. “If Wren trusts him—”

“Wren trusts everyone,” she hissed back, hot as a spark.

“I’m right here,” Wren said, folding her arms across her chest. “And you don’t have to protect me like I’m a child.”

“I know you’re not a child,” she said, softer now. Brunna exhaled slowly. The air around them cooled; even the forge’s fire settled. “You give me a reason, though,” she said, nodding toward Orzen, “I won’t hold back. Till then, I’ll leave you be.”

Orzen inclined his head in respect, then caught Tavrin’s eye. “Seems I’m not great with first impressions.” He extended his hand. “Orzen. Traveling through, staying for the festival. Doing a few odd jobs in the meantime.”

“Second impressions aren’t looking great either.” Tavrin’s gaze followed Brunna’s retreat as she disappeared into the back room for Marda’s bell. Orzen’s low chuckle broke the tension.

“That sounds about right.”

Wren groaned inwardly, gaze shifting between the two men. The similarity was disconcerting. It was like seeing Tavrin’s dark reflection, aged and roughened by miles—same crooked grin, same humor, simply dimmed by wear.

“Name’s Tavrin,” he said, shaking Orzen’s hand. “I’m Wren’s cousin.”

“Might as well be my brother,” she said. “He’s been part of our home since before I can remember.” She leaned in to hug him, and he kissed the top of her head.

“She’s been awful to you, hasn’t she, Orzen?” Tavrin teased, a spark of mischief flashing in his eyes.