Page 65 of The Baker’s Shadow

“It’s over.”

She nods slowly, then looks down at her hand where it rests on her stomach. “The baby stopped moving. Is that normal? After using that much magic?”

Fear lances through me, sharp and immediate. I shrink back down to human size, the transformation taking only seconds, and cross to her side. My hand covers hers, and I reach through our connection, searching for the tiny life inside her.

There. A heartbeat, steady and strong. The baby is exhausted but alive, sleeping after expending so much power.

“The baby’s fine,” I say, and my voice comes out rough with relief. “Just tired.”

“Good.” Kaia leans against me, her weight warm and solid. “That’s good. Because I don’t think I can handle any more tonight.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and we sit there in the mud at the edge of the Hollow, watching the stars come out above us. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wail. The town responding to the chaos, people emerging from their homes to check the damage.

They’ll have questions. The council will have questions. There will be explanations and meetings and probably more complications than I can imagine right now.

But for this moment, sitting here with Kaia warm against my side and our child safe inside her and the Hollow secure beneath us, everything is exactly as it should be.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“For what?”

“For not running. For trusting me. For...” I trail off, unsure how to put the rest into words.

Kaia’s hand finds mine, fingers threading together. “For not letting you die alone?”

“For showing me I didn’t have to.”

She squeezes my hand, and we sit together in the mud and the silence and watch the stars, waiting for whatever comes next.

CHAPTER 18

Kaia

The sun is rising over the Hollow when we finally make it back to the bakery.

We’re covered in mud. My dress is torn at the shoulder, and there’s a cut on Malak’s arm that’s already healing, the skin knitting back together with shadow-thread. We must look like we crawled out of a grave.

Mrs. Chen is waiting on the front step.

She takes one look at us and disappears inside. By the time we stumble through the door, she’s already put the kettle on. Three mugs sit on the counter. She pours tea without asking, the smell sharp and medicinal, then pushes two of them toward us.

“Drink,” she says. “You both look half-dead.”

I wrap my hands around the mug and let the heat sink into my palms. My whole body is shaking, adrenaline crash hitting hard now that the danger has passed.

Malak drinks his tea in three long swallows, barely seeming to taste it. His eyes keep tracking to the windows, to the door, like he’s waiting for something else to come through.

“The barrier?” Mrs. Chen asks.

“Holding,” Malak says. His voice is rough, scraped raw. “Stronger than before.”

“Good.” She refills his mug. “The council convened an emergency session at dawn. Marcus is coordinating cleanup crews. Moira is checking the perimeter for stragglers.” She pauses, her gaze finding mine. “And Preston Crane has been officially declared missing, presumed dead in the sinkhole incident.”

The words settle into the kitchen like stones dropping into still water.

“That’s the story?” I ask.

“That’s the story the humans will hear. The rest of us know the truth.” Her expression is grave but not unkind. “He chose his path. He paid the price. The council considers the matter closed.”