She didn't say anything about it being different.
That was the thing Sera noticed first — not what Maren said, what she didn't. The previous two years, Maren had spoken at the solstice with the specific intent of someone who had something to give the room. This year she came to the table with her walking stick and sat in her chair at the end and ate her food and listened to the conversations around her with the focused, warm attention she brought to things she wanted to hold completely.
She didn't stand.
She didn't speak to the room.
She just — was there. Entirely present, the way she'd been entirely present at every significant event for the decade Sera had known her, except this year without the frame of saying something for the record.
Sera noticed it. She thought about saying some
