By late afternoon, the garden was ready. Benches and chairs faced the porch, and a few neighbors lingered by the fence. Marla checked the food and cups one last time. Near the steps, the students waited with jackets off, hair brushed, and eyes wide.
Tristan stepped forward.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "Tonight you will hear what our students have learned this month. They worked hard, and I am proud of them."
The morning group went first. Their bows were not always even, but they stayed together and finished strong. The applause was warm and encouraging.
The afternoon group followed with a slower piece. One child faltered, then recovered. A parent called out, "Good job," and the child's smile returned.
For the final piece, Tristan joined the more advanced group. He stood at one end of the line while the students filled the rest.
They played melody and harmony together, steady from the first note to the last.
The applause rose again. Parents hugged their children. Neighbors shook Tristan's hand and thanked him.
The three students from the first batch—Trina, Zac, and Elijah—watched the new graduates perform.
They knew what it felt like to give their all, the way triumph could be both draining and rewarding.
Too bad they did not yet have violins of their own. They could only watch and remember.
"You did something good," one mother told Tristan.
"They did it," Tristan answered. "I only helped."
Marla began serving bread, stew, and fruit. The students ate and laughed, some holding their violins as if afraid to set them down.
A quiet rider came through the gate and tied his horse near the fence. Lord Shannon entered wearing simple clothes and clean boots. His calm eyes swept the scene.
A few people nodded in greeting, and he stood back until the children finished eating.
Tristan met him near the porch stairs.
"You missed the performance, my Lord," Tristan said.
"I heard them practice," Shannon replied.
"I was worried some might quit before the recital," Tristan admitted.
Shannon's gaze shifted toward the edges of the property. "No one did."
"No Eira?" he asked.
"No," Tristan said. "Not tonight."
Shannon raised a brow. "Why?"
"I wanted to see if the watcher from last time was after me or after her," Tristan explained. "If the watcher stayed away because she stayed away, then it was about her. If the watcher came anyway, then it was about me."
"And?" Shannon asked.
"I did not see anyone," Tristan said. "But that does not mean no one was here. You see this?"
Shannon nodded once.
"This comes from the mining camp," Tristan continued. "It found its way here, inside my space. It is his way of saying he is close by. He is threatening me."
They waited while parents gathered cloaks and children returned borrowed shoulder rests.
Twilight settled. Neighbors said good night and walked through the gate. The last family waved from the road. The garden fell quiet.
Inside, Gino worked with unusual focus. He seemed to sense that this would be his last evening in the classroom.
As a final gesture, he cleaned carefully, carrying chairs one at a time to avoid scratching the wooden floor. He swept the room with a broom—something he usually avoided by picking trash up with his hands. Tonight he even offered to take the trash outside for proper disposal.
Bridgitte sensed it too. The silence before the storm. She cleared cups into a basin by the stove, then methodically inspected every violin before returning them to storage.
The classroom soon looked as though no recital had taken place.
"Good work today," Tristan told them. "Thank you."
Bridgitte gave a small smile. "They were brave."
Gino grinned. "They were loud," he said, laughing at his own joke.
Tristan kept his voice steady. "We need to talk. Both of you. After we finish cleaning."
They nodded without argument. Both understood something was coming.
On the porch, Shannon waited with arms folded. Tristan stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.
"Walk with me," Shannon said.
They crossed the garden to the fence line. The grass was short. A breeze stirred the leaves above them.
"I will be direct," Shannon said. "Tell me about the Steward."
Tristan looked toward the distant trees. "He lost his position after I left the camp. Lady Arriane signed the order. You pushed for it."
"Yes," Shannon confirmed.
"He blames me," Tristan continued. "He claims I stole a ledger from his office the day I escaped. I did not. The ledger listed bribes, wages never paid, supplies that never arrived. Names and amounts. If someone published it, his career would be ruined."
"Then he will keep searching for it," Shannon said.
"Yes," Tristan agreed. "He sent his niece to be my apprentice.
That is Bridgitte.
She did not tell me at first, but I saw the broken seal on one of her letters. It matched the ones I had seen in the camp. When I asked, she admitted it. She said he told her to send reports: who visits, what I do, whether you come here."
"And Gino?" Shannon asked.
"His brother is Randell," Tristan said. "Randell worked at the Mendez manor. He still keeps in touch with Terry.
Gino wrote letters about my life here. He thought it was harmless. It was not."
Shannon's jaw tightened. "So the Steward watches from one side while Terry fishes from the other."
"That is how it looks," Tristan said quietly. "I will tell both of them that tonight is their last day."
"Good," Shannon said. "That is the right call."
Tristan looked again at the dark line of trees. "I did not invite Eira tonight because I wanted to remove one variable. If the watcher came for her, there would be no reason to come. If the watcher came for me, I would know the difference. I cannot prove anything. It was only a test."
"It was a sound test," Shannon said. "We will add our own."
"What test?" Tristan asked.
"I will increase the patrol near the treeline," Shannon explained. "Two men at dusk, two more after midnight. Quiet, without uniforms.
I will also send a message to Lady Arriane. If the ledger exists, I want to know where. If it does not, then the Steward is using it as an excuse to keep you in fear."
Tristan nodded slowly. "Thank you."
Shannon glanced toward the cottage. "Do you want me present when you speak to them?"
"No," Tristan said. "This is my classroom. I will finish it."
"Very well," Shannon said. "But keep the door open."