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No Marigold. No Adeline.

Garrick patted Lily on the back. “Relax, Red. Addie's faster than any patrol. She's halfway through the forest by now.”

“Straight to the Weavers,” I confirmed. “I told her to keep the child hidden until we send word.”

Lily's shoulders dropped slightly—relief warring with terror of what came next.

I led them both to the back of the house, toward the kitchen. Inside, warm lamplight pooled around the scarred worktable. Garrick fetched hot water, amusement still dancing across his features despite all that had happened.

“Tea for the time-traveler,” he said, setting a chipped mug in front of me, “and whisky for the idiot who thinks a broken nose is a strategy.”

“That was your sister’s strategy,” I muttered, lifting the glass. “Which has me wondering. . .” I leaned back against the edge of the table, fixing my eyes on Garrick. “You knew. Didn’t you?”

Garrick blinked. The grin faltered, just enough to make the kitchen hold its breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Adeline. The girl. Being a sympathizer.” My tone stayed even, but steel crept into it. “You’ve known for a while.”

Garrick shrugged one shoulder, too casual. “I know a lot of things. Comes with being clever.”

“Don’t.” I stepped forward, and the space between us thickened. “Are you with her, Garrick? With them?”

The silence stretched. I watched Garrick's face cycle through emotions—surprise, calculation, something that might have been relief. His jaw worked like he was chewing over words he'd never planned to say.

“I’m with you,” he said. “I’ve always been with you. You are as much family to me as my sister is. I would never do something to get either of you killed. Even when you were too blind to see the war you were helping start. “

The words hit like a fist to the gut.

“How long?” The question scraped out of me. “How long have you been watching me and thinking I was the enemy?”

Garrick flinched. “You're not the enemy. You're my friend. That's why it's been hell.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Since this began,” Garrick said quietly. “Since the first Weaver was unraveled and you came home proud of your father’s work.”

I stared at him like I didn't recognize the man standing in front of me. My best friend. The one person I'd trusted without question.

“So that’s it? All these years at my side and you were what—feeding intel to your sister behind my back?”

“Trying to save lives,” Garrick shot back. “While you helped end them.”

“I was loyal,” I snapped. “To my family. To our name.”

“To his name,” Garrick shot back. “Not your mother’s. Not yours. Elowen Hawthorne would’ve never stood by and watched this happen.”

My shoulders tensed, hands curling at my sides. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“Why not?” Garrick stepped closer, his anger finally breaking free. “She died trying to protect what you’ve spent your whole life helping destroy. You think that pendant in your hand means nothing? She gave her life to stop this, and you’ve been his blade.”

The air turned brittle, like even a whisper could snap it.

“If you believed in her so much,” I said, each word a precise cut, “why didn’t you stop him?”

“I did,” Garrick said quietly. “Just not loudly enough.”

He looked at his hands like they'd failed him. “I thought if I stayed close, if I kept you from becoming him completely, perhaps I could turn you around. I could save you both.”