She left without another word, her robes rustling like wind through leaves. The door clicked shut behind her. Thorne stared at Thaelyn, then lowered his forehead to the edge of her mattress. She reached out, brushing her fingers through his hair.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she whispered.
He lifted his face just enough for her to see the shadows in his eyes. “I was truly terrified when I woke, and they told me you had collapsed and had been unconscious for days from the healing.”
Thaelyn’s smile was faint. “Can I get a thank you kiss for saving your life? It might help me give me some strength back.”
The corner of Thorne’s mouth smirked. “Yes, now that you have rested from nearly exploding into stardust and almost burned down part of the castle.” Thorne leaned over and kissed her softly. Their fingers remained tangled, hearts syncing again beneath the silence.
Thaelyn stirred and then was awake. A low groan caught in her throat as she tried to push herself upright. Her arms screamed in protest, fiery pain lacing through her forearms and wrists like a live wire. The Aether had scorched her fromwithin, again. Not to the point of injury, but to exhaustion. Too much power channeled through too fragile a conduit.
The silk sheets rustled as she tried to move, breath hissing between her teeth.
“You should have called me,” Thorne said from the doorway.
Thaelyn glanced up, her heart stuttering. He was already inside the room, moving with quiet purpose. He was not dressed in his usual combat leathers or training gear, but in a formal midnight-blue tunic and fitted black trousers; he looked different. Sharper. Elegant, even. The embroidered trim at his collar shimmered faintly in the candlelight, and his brown hair had been brushed back from his face, still damp.
“I took the liberty of drawing you a bath,” he said, voice low but kind. “The burns are healing, but they’ll get worse without the healing oils my mother sent up.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, swallowing against the throb in her arms.
He didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he crossed to her side and offered his hand. “You’re not. Come on.”
She hesitated, but her limbs weren’t cooperating, and pride had already failed her once today. With a reluctant sigh, she reached for his help.
His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady. He pulled her up with controlled strength, his free hand gently supporting the small of her back as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her breath caught again when her feet hit the floor. The pain lanced deeper this time.
“I’ve got you,” he said simply, and guided her toward the adjoining bathing chamber.
The shift in temperature hit first. It was humid. Perfumed air curled around them like silk. The bathing chamber was lavish, lit by alabaster sconces set into the walls that glowed a dusky amber, casting golden light on the dark marble and warm stone. There were shallow recesses in the stonework where flower petals and herbs burned low over enchanted braziers. Steam drifted through the air in slow, graceful curls. She smelled crushed mint, peony, rose, and something sweeter, lavender or maybe wild lilac. The steam curled like ribbons from the basin, and the water's surface shimmered faintly where silver oil danced with ancient runes.
The basin itself was deep and wide, shaped from white veined marble with soft edges and a curved lip that gleamed in the flickering light. Water shimmered within the basin, faintly luminescent from ancient runes etched into the stone, a quiet enchantment that pulsed like a heartbeat, meant to soothe and restore.
Thaelyn stood in the archway, one hand braced on the frame, the other cradling her left forearm where threads of Aether had left burns. She hadn’t noticed them at first. During the healing session earlier, light rushed from her palms and danced across Darian’s wound, stitching and mending his body back into place. There hadn’t been pain. Only the overwhelming force of it. Only fire and storm, pouring out of her with reckless precision.
She was suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. She was wearing a nightdress. No armor. Her hair had been styled into a loose braid. She swept it past her shoulder.
“I did my best today to style it. My sister laughed at me and told me I was hopeless.”
But now, Thaelyn’s arms trembled with the aftermath. Fine red lines traced down her skin like veins of raw magic, not bleeding, but irritated and swollen. Her shoulders ached. Her chest felt bruised from within. She needed the bath.
Thorne stood beside the basin, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His soft tunic fit snug across his shoulders. His trousers were a formal cut, and we wore boots that looked freshly polished. He looked strange in palace attire, the lines of him cleaner, sharper, more princely.
It was unsettling. She was used to her gruff and overbearing trainer.
Thorne uncorked a vial of silvery oil and poured it into the water. The oil shimmered on the surface, catching the light like liquid starlight.
“It’ll help with the afterburn,” he added. “Aether can leave a sting, even when you wield it well.”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed instead, arms folding slowly across her chest.
“Are you expecting me to just undress in front of you?” she asked, voice flat.
Thorne turned. His eyes met hers; they were blue-gray in this light and unreadable. Touched with something softer than amusement.
One brow arched as a slow, crooked smile found his mouth. “I have, in fact,” he said slowly, “seen a woman naked before.”
The heat that flared beneath her skin wasn’t just from the steam. Her arms crossed tighter, not in modesty, but in defiance of her reaction.
