As the ceremony gave way to applause, the room softened into a rhythm of shared food and quiet conversation. Plates were passed, mugs refilled, and the flicker of candlelight settled into something more comfortable than celebration—just belonging.

  Jorrin brought out a tray of silverlace honeycakes, fresh from the oven and still warm. Each was topped with a dollop of spiced cream and a scattering of candied nuts. Mara followed behind him with bowls of stew and a warning about pacing themselves.

  Ethan took a bite of one of the honeycakes and immediately stopped walking.

  He stared at the half-eaten cake in his hand like it had just whispered the secrets of the universe.

  “What... is this?”

  Mara smiled, hands on her hips. “Silverlace honeycakes. The honey comes from high-meadow hives. The spice mix is old—my grandmother’s. Never wrote it down.”

  Ethan took another bite, slower this time. The flavor sank in deeper, warm and balanced and the exact kind of sweetness he never managed to make back home. “It’s like… if cinnamon and nutmeg fell in love and adopted a warm hug.”

  Jorrin laughed. “That’s a new one.”

  “It’s perfect,” Ethan said. “Like the taste equivalent of being under a good blanket next to a fire while someone else does your taxes.” He took another slow bite, savoring it. “I swear, if these existed back on Earth, people would fight for them. Whole black markets built just for this.”

  Mara blinked. “I… thank you?”

  He reached into his pouch, pulled out a silver piece, and set it on the counter with reverence. “How many of these gets me a full supply?”

  Mara stared at it. “Two copper buys a dozen. That silver’ll get you... a lot.”

  Before she could say more, Buster spoke from across the room. “At least thirty batches. Three hundred sixty cakes, assuming no spice inflation and a standard two-bit margin per unit.”

  Ethan blinked. “Food math is Buster’s jam. Pun intended.”

  “PUN APPROVED!” Pixie shouted.

  Ethan pointed at her. “I’ve got more. Puns and buns.”

  Pixie gasped. “DOUBLE APPROVAL.”

  Jorrin gave a proud nod. “He’s officially one of us.”

  A few feet away, Senna—who had been lingering nearby—rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. “Ugh. I thought he’d be less dorky.”

  She spun on her heel and headed straight to the regulars’ table to listen to a story about someone setting their trousers on fire with enchanted boots. Crush over. Moving on.

  Across the room, Lyra blinked, then frowned slightly. That… was unfair. Ethan wasn’t that dorky. Not really. He was clever. Honest. Occasionally exasperating, yes—but also sharp and decent and—

  She caught herself mid-thought, suddenly aware of just how many directions her feelings had taken tonight. First she’d been annoyed that Senna liked him, now she was irritated that she didn’t. The whole thing made her feel absurd.

  She took a long drink and deliberately quieted the bond between them. She wasn’t ready to unpack any of this—not now, not with everything else still unsettled. A part of her kept cataloging the small things he did tonight, though. How he spoke to Mara with respect. How he looked at the Silverthorn kids like their joy mattered. How he carried himself when no one was watching. It made the whole situation harder to ignore.

  As the celebration finally began to settle, the room dimmed with the weight of full bellies, warm laughter, and the low hum of shared stories. One by one, the younger Silver Thorn kids were carried off to bed, each insisting they weren’t tired even as they yawned their way upstairs.

  Amelia curled up near the hearth beside Tessa, her paper crown slipping sideways over one ear. Pixie lay on her back nearby, all four paws in the air, declaring victory over “her most noble and exhausting court duties.”

  Ethan caught Gwenna’s eye across the room. She gave a small nod and gestured toward the stairs.

  Time for that talk, he thought.

  Want backup? Moose asked through the bond.

  Might help, Ethan replied. And Lyra too, if she’s willing.

  Lyra, still by the fire, met his eyes. She didn’t say anything, but she rose and followed. Something steady passed through the bond—not confidence, not reassurance, just presence. She’d be there.

  The three of them slipped out of the common room. Behind them, Buster flopped onto a pillow stack with a groan, clearly ready to defend the snack table with his life if necessary.

  Upstairs, Gwenna stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the quiet dark beyond the glass. She didn’t turn when they entered.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “You’re going to release the oath?” Gwenna asked.

  “I am,” Ethan replied. “But first, I want to be clear about what happens after.”

  Gwenna nodded once. “Smart. Most people don’t think that far ahead.”

  “I’m not releasing you so you can report us,” Ethan said. “I’m releasing you so you can help. And I need your word you’ll keep the Pack’s details quiet—what we are, how we work. Keep the specifics private.”

  Gwenna turned to face them fully. “That’s reasonable. I wouldn’t have asked to talk if I didn’t already plan to offer something in return.”

  Moose settled near the wall—calm, quiet, and still a little tired. Lyra leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed, watching Gwenna with the kind of measured attention she rarely let slip.

  “I can offer access,” Gwenna said. “Guild resources. Training halls. Academy contacts. Even proper compensation. But I need to be able to tell the right people that someone capable of cleansing corruption exists. I won’t use your name. I won’t say what you are. But I need just enough to unlock the support channels.”

  Ethan turned back to her. “Alright. I release you from the original system oath. Freely and with consent.”

  The air in the room shifted, subtle but present.

  [Oath Released – Mutual Consent Confirmed]

  Gwenna nodded once. “Then let’s make a new one.”

  Ethan leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

  “I swear not to reveal your name, your class, or the nature of your bond,” Gwenna said. “I won’t speak of how your companions communicate, or the details of your abilities. In exchange, I’ll inform select Guild and Academy contacts that a corruption-cleansing specialist is operating under protection and anonymity. I’ll use that to get you quiet credentials, access to what you need, and a steady flow of payment.”

  Ethan studied her face. “And once you say it, it binds?”

  “The system enforces it,” she said. “Same as before.”

  Ethan nodded. “Say it, then.”

  She repeated the terms clearly and carefully. As the final word left her mouth, the air pulsed once in response.

  [Oath Accepted – System Lock Engaged]

  “It’s done,” Gwenna said. “You’ll get your first contract tomorrow. Quiet, local. Dockline district. Sewer sector.”

  Ethan groaned. “Of course it’s sewers.”

  Moose exhaled. “I really don’t want that sewer smell stuck in my nose.”

  Ethan gave him a look.

  “What?” Moose said. “I can’t always say something wise.”

  Gwenna’s mouth twitched. “Welcome to Guild work.”

  Gwenna didn’t leave.

  Instead, she crossed the hall and opened the door opposite theirs. “I’m staying here too,” she said. “Mara’s mother and I go back a ways. This place is one of the few stops that still feels... solid.”

  She hesitated, then added, “I’ll let you know as soon as your Guild credentials and Academy access clear. It might take a few days, but I’ll move it along.”

  Ethan nodded. “Thanks. And... I appreciate the recommendation. The Silverthorns have treated us really well. They’re good people.”

  Gwenna’s expression softened. “They are.”

  “If I’m not around,” she said, “I’m working. Or asleep. Either way, I’m not spying.”

  Lyra gave her a look but didn’t comment.

  Moose turned for the stairs. Ethan followed.

  No one said goodnight. It didn’t feel like that kind of moment.

  After Gwenna closed her door, Ethan and the Pack spent the evening with the Silverthorn family. The kids insisted on turning dinner into an impromptu celebration, complete with hastily made streamers cut from spare parchment and a small cake Mara had been saving for the weekend.

  Kip managed to talk Moose into a short ride around the common room, gripping his fur with an expression of unshakable determination and pure joy. Moose bore it patiently—mostly—though he gave Ethan a long-suffering look every time they passed.

  Meanwhile, Tomlin focused all his energy on building the tallest tower he could from an assortment of wooden blocks. When it finally tipped over, he cheered and clapped and immediately asked to do it again.

  Later, under Mara’s watchful eye, Tomlin got a short ride on Buster, who allowed it with dignified tolerance—so long as no one brought up the earlier biting incident.

  The Pack blended easily into the chaos. Amelia stayed close to Tessa, occasionally swatting at ribbons or nuzzling against her side. Lyra helped sweep glitter out from under the benches, muttering about inefficient celebrations but not leaving.

  Ethan watched Amelia for a moment longer than planned. She wasn’t loud or showy like Pixie, but the room shifted around her tonight. Tessa held onto her like a tether, calm and steady, and Amelia carried it without complaint. There was something grounding in the way she moved—quiet confidence instead of noise. The kind of presence people leaned toward without realizing it.

  Even Buster seemed content, if mildly overfed.

  When the festivities finally wound down, Ethan stayed behind to help clean up. He stacked plates, gathered mugs, and straightened chairs while Mara wiped down tables. She tried to wave him off, but he insisted on staying until the common room was back in order.

  “Thank you,” she said as she hung the washrag on its hook. “The kids enjoyed themselves. It’s been a while since they’ve had something to celebrate.”

  “So did we,” Ethan replied, and meant it. The Pack wasn’t used to being welcomed so completely. It felt good to be treated like family instead of curiosities.

  He made his way back upstairs, where the others had already settled in. Pixie was curled around Lord Fluffington like he was a bedtime shield, her cloak draped over her like a hero at rest. Buster sprawled near the door, and Moose had returned to his usual place by the window. Amelia lay tucked near the hearth, her wooden wolf pendant catching the last flickers of firelight.

  Lyra sat on her bedroll, braiding her hair with quiet focus, the burgundy ribbon woven carefully through each strand. She glanced up when Ethan entered, and the bond brushed his awareness—soft, restrained, but warmer than earlier.

  Ethan dropped onto his own bed with a tired sigh. They still didn’t know what tomorrow would bring—whether they’d hear more from Gwenna, or go looking on their own. Maybe he’d get a chance to try enchanting something again. Maybe not.

  Before he drifted, his gaze found Amelia again. She’d tucked her nose beneath her tail, the pendant resting against her paw like something cherished. He felt the faintest pulse through the bond—calm, proud, steady in a way that settled the whole room.

  For tonight, she carried the quiet center of them all.

  The Pack slept.

  And sleep finally found him too.