Page 28 of Ashes, Apples, & Amorous Orcs

"Furthermore," the article continues, "sources confirm that our forest guardian has been spending considerable time away from his usual patrol routes, allegedly visiting the temporary apiary established by visiting honey merchant Isolde Briar. A new pairing? Or a fleeting distraction."

My stomach drops. There it is—my name in black ink, connected to Draven's supposed negligence for the entire town to read. The implication hangs heavy between the lines: the outsider woman distracting their protector from his sacred duty.

I set the paper aside and pace between my hive boxes, the morning sun doing nothing to warm the chill spreading through my chest. Twenty-four hours ago, I was pressed against Draven's chest in the apple grove, feeling more connected to another person than I had in years. Now he's vanished into the forest without a word, chasing a wolf that shouldn't have gotten close enough to hurt anyone.

The rational part of my mind knows he had to go. Sarah was injured, the town was in danger, and stopping that threat was exactly what they pay him to do. But the selfish part—the part that still tastes him on my lips—aches at his complete absence. No message through Timmy, no quick stop at the apiary to explain, nothing.

Just gone, like whatever happened between us meant nothing compared to his duty.

I fold the newspaper and tuck it under my arm, refusing to skulk in my apiary like some guilty party. Whatever whispers are circulating through Harvest Hollow's cobblestone streets, I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me hide.

The Golden Crust's warmth hits me the moment I push through the door, carrying the familiar scents of cinnamon and rising dough. Conversations pause as heads turn my way—subtle glances that pretend not to be staring. I keep my chin up and walk straight to the counter where Maddie stands arranging fresh pastries.

"Izzy!" Her smile blooms genuine and bright, cutting through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds. "Perfect timing. I just pulled these from the oven."

She slides a golden scone across the wooden counter, still steaming and dotted with purple lavender buds. The honey glaze catches the morning light filtering through the bakery's windows.

"And tea?"

"Please."

Maddie bustles behind the counter, her auburn curls bouncing as she prepares a steaming cup. I settle at a small table near the window, the newspaper crinkling as I set it aside. The scone melts on my tongue, sweet and familiar, but even my own honey can't chase away the bitter taste of this morning's revelations.

"You've seen it, then." Maddie slides into the chair across from me, flour still covering her hands in a thin powder. Her voice carries the careful gentleness people use around wounded animals.

"Hard to miss my name splashed across the front page."

"Jamie got a bit carried away with the drama. You know how he writes—everything's a grand tragedy or epic romance." She reaches across to squeeze my hand. "Are you okay?"

The simple question cracks something open in my chest. I stare into my tea, watching steam curl upward like tiny ghosts.

"I feel responsible. If I hadn't been distracting him⁠—"

"Stop right there." Maddie's voice sharpens with protective fury. "None of this is anyone's fault, no matter what that ridiculous paper implies. Moore wolves are dangerous, unpredictable creatures."

"But the timing⁠—"

"Was coincidence." She leans forward, eyes blazing. "If anyone should feel guilty, it's me. I've been encouraging you both to spend time together, practically shoving you into each other's paths."

I shake my head, finally meeting her gaze.

"Even without your encouragement, it would have reached this point anyway." The admission tastes both sweet and bitter. "I really like him, Maddie. He makes me feel... comfortable. Safe. Like I can just be myself without performing or proving anything."

My voice drops to barely above a whisper.

"But now I'm terrified this is all my fault, and he probably thinks so too."

Maddie's flour-dusted hand smacks flat against the wooden table, making my teacup rattle.

"He doesn't think that at all." Her voice carries the absolute certainty of someone who's never doubted a romantic outcome in her life. "Trust me on this, Izzy. That man has been circling you like a wolf for weeks, and one emergency isn't going to change how he feels."

She springs up from her chair and marches behind the counter, rummaging through drawers until she produces paper and a stubby pencil. Both land on the table in front of me with decisive thumps.

"Write him a letter. Invite him to dinner tomorrow night."

I shake my head, pushing the paper away like it might bite me.

"I'm not subjecting Draven to some awkward double date, especially after Thornak basically yelled at him the other day about priorities."