The water was almost too hot when she sank into the tub, but she welcomed the burn. It matched the rawness between her legs, the ache in her hips where bruises were already forming in the shape of fingers. She scrubbed at her skin, trying to wash away the scent of smoke and copper, but it seemed to cling.
A soft splash made her look up. Frederick emerged from the water pitcher on the side table, his tiny form creating a bubble that floated over to hover near the tub's edge. His gill-fronds drooped slightly, those dark eye-spots fixed on her with concern.
"I'm fine," she told him, though they both knew it was a lie.
He settled on the tub's edge, occasionally reaching out a translucent appendage to touch the water, as if testing her mood through the liquid. The gesture was so gentle, so without judgment, that her throat tightened.
She sank deeper into the water, letting it cover her shoulders, her neck, stopping just below her jaw. The warmth in her chest, that constant reminder of connection, pulsedweakly. Not reaching for Arion, who was probably somewhere in the palace worrying about her. Not reaching for Karse, who had already dismissed her from his thoughts.
It reached, as it always did, in the direction of the Forest Court.
The realization hit her with crushing clarity. After everything, after being cast out, hunted, nearly killed, treated like property, her traitorous heart still ached for Eliam. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his hands on her skin, different from the bruises Karse had left. Could still remember the way he'd looked at her that last morning, bringing her tea with purple flowers, his fingers gentle in her hair.
She pressed her palms against her eyes, but it didn't stop the tears from coming. Silent, hot, mixing with the bath water. She'd thought—what? That sleeping with someone else would burn him out of her system? That choosing destruction would somehow free her from wanting someone who'd thrown her away?
"I'm such a fool," she whispered to Frederick, who floated closer, his bubble pressing gently against her arm.
The worst part was knowing it didn't matter. Whether she went back to the Forest Court at dawn or stayed in the Star Court, whether she ran into the mortal realm or let Malus take her apart—none of it would change the fundamental truth that she'd fallen in love with someone incapable of loving her back.
Karse had been right about one thing. She'd used him to break something. But it hadn't been her attachment to Eliam or her pain or her helplessness. She'd just broken herself a little more.
Eventually, the water cooled. She forced herself to get out, to dry off, to put on a clean nightgown. Her body moved automatically through the motions while her mind stayed trapped in that circular path—wanting Eliam, hating that she wanted him, knowing it would destroy her, wanting him anyway.
Frederick followed her to the bed, his bubble settling on the pillow beside her. She curled on her side, one hand unconsciously going to her chest where the warmth pulsed its endless, futile reaching.
Dawn would come in a few hours. She would have to choose. Did she return to someone who had discarded her, or stay with people who would never understand why part of her would always be looking back toward the forest, toward the thorns, toward the beautiful, terrible fae lord who had marked her in ways that went deeper than skin?
"What's wrong with me?" she asked Frederick, who made a soft chiming sound and pressed his cool bubble against her cheek.
She knew the answer, though. She'd fallen in love with her captor, chosen to stay with someone who saw her as possession rather than person, and even after everything, even after tonight's desperate attempt to feel something else, she still wanted him.
The tears came again, quieter this time, and she let them. Tomorrow she would have to be strong, would have to make choices, would have to pretend she hadn't shattered something inside herself tonight.
But for now, in the dark with only a tiny water sprite for comfort, she could admit the truth—she was hopelessly, foolishly, destructively in love with Eliam, and no amount of rebellion or rage or other men would change that.
The warmth in her chest pulsed once, strong and yearning, as if agreeing with her realization. She pressed her hand against it, feeling the echo of connection that would never fully fade, and waited for dawn.
A soft knock pulled her from the edge of sleep. The sound was tentative, barely louder than the settling of old wood in the walls. She lay still against sheets, unsure if she'd imagined it.
"Briar?" Arion's voice, muffled by thick oak.
She didn't answer. Her throat still ached from crying, raw and swollen, and the bruises on her hips throbbed with each heartbeat, a reminder of what she'd done, of the choices she'd made in anger that now felt hollow. She sat up, the blanket falling away, and shivered. The room held that particular chill that came before morning, when night had leached all warmth from stone and air.
The silence stretched and her heartbeat seemed too loud in the quiet.
"You’re probably asleep,” he continued. “You may not even... I don't know if you're listening." His voice was different than she'd ever heard it, as if it had been stripped of its usual confidence, raw at the edges. "I should have said this earlier. Before everything went... I'm not good at this, at saying what I mean when it matters."
Briar pushed the blankets aside against her better judgement and slipped from the bed. Her toes curled when they hit the floor. It felt like ice against her bare feet. It should have been enough to drive her back beneath the blankets, but the warmth in her chest had stirred, reaching toward his voice through the door.
"When I kissed you that night, during the dance, it was so impulsive, I—" His voice caught. "I felt something I couldn't explain. The whole world shifted. Everythingsuddenly made sense and no sense at all, and then you were gone, back to him, and I haven’t stopped thinking…"
She moved closer, her palm finding the smooth wood of the door. Through it, she could almost feel his presence, the gentle light that always seemed to surround him.
"I know you said you chose him, that… you wanted to stay with Eliam, but I keep thinking if I'd been stronger, if I'd fought for you then instead of letting you go back—" Another pause. Briar let her forehead fall to rest against the door. Her mind spinning with the possibilities. What if hehadfought? What then? Malus might still be locked away in Eliam’s dungeons, but the Star Court would have been destroyed. If Briar had to choose again knowing the end result, she didn’t think she would change her decision.
"What I mean is… damn it, none of this is coming out right."
Her fingers found the door handle, the metal cool and solid.
