"How did you..." She stares down at the empty cup, then back at me. "What did you do?"
"Gave you what you needed."
"Mihalis." My name on her lips carries warning and something else—concern? "What did you do?"
Everything. Nothing. Less than what losing you would cost.
"It doesn't matter," I say instead, and mean it. Watching her straighten, seeing the spark return to her eyes as strength flows back into her body—it's worth any price.
"It matters to me." Her voice is soft, uncertain, like she's not sure she's allowed to care about my wellbeing. Her eyes roam over me, and I wonder if I look exhausted now. I should have bought something to replenish my magic as well. "I don't want you hurting yourself for my sake."
The admission hangs between us, fragile and dangerous. Because it suggests that maybe, despite all her protests and walls and desperate attempts to maintain distance, she feels something for me that goes beyond magical compulsion.
"Dad! Heidi!" Irida comes running back, cheeks flushed with excitement and exercise. "There's going to be a fire sculpture contest! Can we watch? Please?"
"Of course, little spark." I stand, offering Heidi my hand. When she takes it without hesitation, her fingers warm and steady instead of trembling with exhaustion, something tight in my chest finally begins to loosen.
The tea will only provide temporary relief—eventually we'll need to address the real problem. But for now, watching Heidi smile genuinely as Irida drags us toward the next wonder, feeling her energy restored and her pain eased...
For now, it's enough.
13
HEIDI
Istill don't know what was in that tea.
Whatever Mihalis gave me this afternoon worked like magic—which, knowing him, it probably was. The bone-deep exhaustion that's been clawing at me vanished within minutes of drinking it, replaced by energy I haven't felt since this whole mess started. But I caught the way his shoulders sagged afterward, how his usual commanding presence seemed diminished. When I pressed him about it, he deflected with that infuriating arrogance of his, but I could see the shadows under his eyes.
He gave me something of himself. I know it as surely as I know my own heartbeat.
The thought makes my chest tight with emotions I don't want to name. Gratitude, yes. But underneath that, something warmer and more dangerous—the terrifying realization that someone would sacrifice their own wellbeing for mine without expecting anything in return.
I've spent my entire life learning that everything has a price. Every kindness comes with strings attached, every offer of helpmasks an ulterior motive. But Mihalis... gods help me, I'm starting to believe he might be different.
Which only makes the decision I have to make that much harder.
The bond isn't going away. I've been lying to myself, pretending that if I just resist long enough, it will fade into nothing more than an uncomfortable memory. But watching myself slowly waste away these past weeks has forced me to face the truth—this thing between us is permanent. The only question is whether I let it kill us both or do something about it.
The thought of completing the soul bond makes my skin crawl with old fears. Being tied to someone, belonging to them in a way that can't be undone... it's everything I've spent years running from. Even knowing that Mihalis isn't like the others, that he's shown me nothing but respect and patience, I can't shake the terror that comes from giving up that last piece of control.
But then I remember the way he looked at me when I played with Irida today. Not like I was a possession or a problem to be solved, but like I was... precious. Important. Like seeing me smile mattered to him in ways that had nothing to do with magic or obligation.
A part of me—the part I've been trying to silence since the day he carried me away from Vestige—is screaming that I can trust him. That whatever this is between us, it's real enough to be worth the risk.
I just don't know how to trust that voice.
My thoughts scatter when someone knocks on my door. The sun set hours ago, which means it's time for Vestige—and the nighttime portion of Noxalyth. Despite everything, excitement curls in my stomach. I've heard whispers about what happens during the "unwatched hours," and while I've never experienced it myself—even I know better than to tempt fate by goingout around xaphan with no limits—the promise of chaos and freedom calls to something wild in my chest.
"Come in," I call, smoothing down the black dress Thera insisted I wear tonight. It's more revealing than anything I'd normally choose—fitted bodice, bare shoulders, skirt that ends mid-thigh—but it makes me feel powerful in a way I haven't in weeks.
Mihalis steps inside, and I have to bite back a sharp inhale. He's dressed in all black—leather pants that cling to his muscular thighs, a shirt that's open at the collar to reveal the sun-sigil scar over his heart. His wings are tucked close to his body, the red-tipped feathers seeming to pulse with inner heat in the lamplight. He looks every inch the dangerous predator he is, but when his molten gold eyes sweep over me, the hunger I see there isn't threatening.
It's reverent.
"You look..." He trails off, jaw working like he's swallowing words that might be too much.
"Recovered?" I suggest, spinning once to make the skirt flare. The movement doesn't leave me dizzy or nauseous, and I can't help but grin at the simple pleasure of feeling like myself again.
