He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Figured you’d want one.” A beat. Then: “Was I wrong?”
“No, I just…”
I don’t even know. It’s either the strangest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Or the sweetest. And I don’t have the bandwidth to untangle which one it is.
So I just say, “Thank you. But… why? I thought you were mad at me. For, well… the last seven weeks or so. Since the ball.”
He pauses, arms folding across his chest as he leans back against the wall, one brow lifting.
“Yes, well… I didn’t exactly appreciate yourmethodsof trying to break me, especially while I was teaching.” A crooked grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But I was impressed with how far your magic has come.” For a second, it almost sounds sincere, then he adds, “And really, I can’t blame you for wanting more of this.”
He glances down, runs a slow look over himself, like he’s doing me a favour just standing there.
I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes, already turning toward the bathing chamber—because yeah, I want more ofthat, but I’m done playing games.
I draw the curtain shut behind me and start undressing. It’s stupid—he’s seen me naked before—but the thin fabric between us makes me feel weirdly exposed. Too real. Too close, so I step into the water and sink down fast, letting the heat swallow me whole.
The bath’s deep, and the warm water curls around my bones like it’s trying to stitch me back together from the inside out. A sound slips from my throat before I can stop it—half sigh, half groan.
God.I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like this. Nessi owned a bath once. I remember being a kid, going to her place, she’d let me use it sometimes. But it was basically a bucket with kettle water that cooled too fast and had to be reheated every five minutes.
This is... hell, I can’t even explain it.
I slide down until only my head breaks the surface, like I could disappear without actually leaving. Then I sink lower, letting the water close over my ears. The world dulls—all that's left is the slow, heavy thud of my pulse and the quiet truth that I killed someone today.
Not by accident. Ichoseit. An Outerlander. Like me.
My fingers curl against the edge of the basin, nails scraping stone. The uniform lies in a heap on the floor next to me, heavy with sweat and dust and some blood that isn’t mine.
It happened fast, one strike, one decision. Clean. Cleaner than it should’ve been. I thought I’d feel something more, but I don’t. Not guilt. Not regret. Just… weight. Somewhere low in my stomach.
He would’ve killed that cadet, I keep telling myself. Hehaskilled people like them, like me. That should be enough. And maybe it is. But I still keep hearing his voice in the back of my head.
You wear their colours now.
I came here for answers. For leverage. For revenge. And now? Now I look like them. I train like them. And today, for the first time, Iactedlike one of them. I don’t know what that makes me.
I sink deeper, let the water close over my face, let it muffle everything. As if I can drown the thoughts out. As if I can wash them off.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that. Long enough for the heat to fade, for the steam to thin and the surface to cool. By the time I climb out, the water’s gone lukewarm and my skin’s starting to prickle with cold.
I dry off, then grab one of the white robes hanging on the wall, soft and thick. I’ve never felt this clean before. At least on the outside. Inside… I couldn’t scrub deep enough if I tried.
I draw the curtain back—And stop short.
Talen’s stripped down to the waist, his back to me, the black scales tattooed along his spine shifting with every movement, muscles flexing as he twists to look into the mirror above the dresser. He’s holding a cloth, trying—and failing—to reach the graze just above his hip. The one from the knife I threw at him earlier.
It's dark outside now, the room lit by candlelight, too dim to see clearly, plus the angle’s awkward. His shoulder blades bunch as he reaches again, jaw tight, breath hissing between his teeth.
“Let me help, Veirmont,” I say, shaking my head.
He turns, eyes flicking toward me, surprised, like he forgot I was even still here.
He mutters something under his breath, shifts his stance, tries again. No luck.
“Just call me Talen. And... fine.” He exhales. “I’m trying to clean it, but I can’t reach.”
I take the cloth from his hand. His fingers brush mine, and our eyes meet, for half a second, before he turns and braces his hands on the dresser, giving me his full back.
