Finn steps closer. His chaos magic goes quiet — I can feel it through the bond, the sudden stillness where there’s usually static. Like it’s listening. Waiting for something.
A single mote drifts toward the tunnel. Hovers at the threshold. Then retreats.
“It’s not empty,” Aspen says quietly. “It’s dormant.”
We all stare at it for a long moment. The blank space where something should be. The unwritten hall.
Whatever it’s waiting for, it’s not us. Not yet.
I turn away first. There’s nothing for us there — not tonight.
And honestly? I’m exhausted. We all are. Days on the road, sleeping in shifts, eating whatever we could find. The corruption pressing against us constantly. Callum’s broken prophecies. The weight of everything we just learned in these halls.
I look at the bathing spring in the center of the cavern. Crystal-clear water swirling with pink and white motes. Steam rising gently from the surface.
Gods, I want to be clean.
“I’m getting in,” I say.
Every head turns toward me.
Torric’s eyebrows rise. Aspen’s mouth twitches. Kieran goes very still. Malrik’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes — something heated, something hungry.
And Finn—
Finn grins. Wide and shameless and so completelyhimthat my chest aches.
“Finally,” he says. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten what water was for. You know, besides drinking. And crying. And—”
“Finn.”
“—dramatic reveals where someone emerges glistening and backlit like a—”
“Finn.”
He holds up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just saying. The view’s about to improve significantly.”
My face burns. “Turn around. All of you.”
They do.
But not before I catch the smirks. Every single one of them. Even Darian, though his is more uncertain — like he’s not sure he’s allowed to want this but can’t help it anyway.
Kieran is the last to turn, his gold eyes lingering on mine for a beat too long before he gives me his back.
I wait until they’re all facing away. Six broad backs. Six sets of shoulders. Six men who have seen me fight, bleed, break, and rise. Who have held me. Kissed me. Loved me in ways I’m still learning to accept.
And now they’reallgoing to see me naked. All at once.
Great. Fine. This is fine.
I strip quickly — or try to. My fingers fumble with the laces of my shirt, clumsy with exhaustion and something else. Nerves. Anticipation. The knowledge that the moment I say they can turn around, everything changes.
The cool air hits my skin as I pull off my shirt. Then my pants. Then everything else.
I don’t look at them. I don’t let myself.
I slip into the water.
