---
On day six, the world offered them quiet. They repaid it by not talking much, by stepping neatly, by sharing an apple without arguing over who got the core. Edda used the time to listen to the way her tether hummed whenever she thought sideways at betrayal; it had become a useful metronome.
She also used the time to think about John's face when he had said "clean the shop," about the way he had accepted gifts like they were responsibilities, about the small light in him that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with decision.
She had worked for men who wore power like perfume. This young man wore an obligation like armor. It made her want to fix his doors and choose his knives and make his enemies pay taxes to their own fear.
