“Because the truth doesn't change just because someone powerful dislikes it.”
Naya looked toward the stove. The fire had burned lower while they stood by the door, and the kettle had begun to tremble more loudly. Calder crossed the room and lifted it from the heat, pouring hot water into two chipped cups.
He set one on the table within her reach.
She wrapped both hands around it, grateful for the warmth.
Outside, the deputy's voice rose briefly, followed by the sound of boots crunching through snow. The men were being led away from the porch, their figures disappearing into the pale morning.
Naya watched until the last shadow vanished beyond the trees.
Only then did her knees begin to weaken.
She gripped the table's edge, fighting the sudden rush of exhaustion. Calder noticed and moved a chair toward her, stopping before he came close enough to startle her.
“Sit down,” he said gently.
She lowered herself into the chair.
For a while, neither spoke. The storm continued beyond the walls, but the immediate danger had passed. Naya stared into her cup, watching steam curl above the rim.
“I thought I would feel different,” she said at last.
“Different how?”
“Braver. Stronger. I thought that when they finally left, I would stop being afraid.”
Calder sat in the chair opposite her. “Fear doesn't disappear just because the danger moves away.”
She looked up. “Then how does it go away?”
“Sometimes it doesn't all go away. Sometimes you learn that it can be there without controlling every choice you make.”
Naya considered that.
“I was afraid when I touched your coat,” she admitted.
“I noticed.”
“I thought you might misunderstand.”
“I didn't.”
“I thought you might decide that because I trusted you, you could ask for more.”
Calder leaned back slightly, leaving the space between them undisturbed. “You can trust me and still say no to anything. Those two things don't contradict each other.”
Her eyes filled again, but this time the tears came quietly.
“I don't know how to believe that.”
“You don't have to learn it all at once.”
The fire cracked softly.
Naya looked at the hand that had rested against his coat. She had spent so long guarding every movement that even the smallest act of kindness felt like stepping onto uncertain ground. Yet she had reached for him of her own accord, and he had let her decide what the gesture meant.
That mattered more than she could explain.
“Will you stay here?” she asked.
Calder nodded. “If that's what you want.”
“For now,” she said.