The chamber opens into a natural cavern, steam rising from pools carved into the rock over centuries of use. Enchanted lights float near the ceiling, casting soft golden illumination that makes the stone walls gleam. The air is warm and humid, scented with minerals and something floral I can’t identify.
Someone—multiple someones, clearly—has transformed the space. Cushions and blankets line the pool’s edges in colors that complement each other, arranged with a precision that speaks of careful thought. A low stone table overflows with platters of food: exotic fruits I don’t recognize, aged cheeses, pastries still warm from the ovens, and several bottles of wine. Baskets sit at intervals around the pools, filled with oils, soaps, soft cloths, and what looks like an entire apothecary’s worth of beauty supplies.
“The fortress has hot springs?” Aisling’s clinical detachment cracks into genuine surprise. “I’ve been here for months. Nobody mentioned hot springs. The therapeutic applications alone?—”
“The brothers keep them private.” Selene is already stripping off her outer layers. “Dragon thing. The heat helps with their shifted forms, apparently. But Drayke said we’ve earned access.” She waves at the elaborate setup. “This took coordination. I’m impressed they managed to work together without setting anything on fire.”
“Who did what?” Nasyra examines one of the oil baskets with obvious curiosity.
“Rurik handled food.” Selene ticks off on her fingers. “He spent hours in the kitchens driving the cook insane. Demanded everything be perfect, then ate half a platter of tarts before anyone could stop him.”
“That tracks.” Aisling’s mouth twitches.
“Zyphon did the lighting. Apparently shadow magic can also manipulate light when he’s not using it to terrify people. Who knew?” Selene gestures at the floating orbs. “Drayke coordinated and provided the space. He also personally threatened any dragon who might disturb us with creative dismemberment.”
“And Auren?” The question escapes before I can stop it.
Three pairs of eyes turn to me with varying degrees of amusement.
“Auren handled security.” Selene’s grin turns knowing. “Made sure no one would disturb us, reinforced the wards, set up a perimeter. Perfectly reasonable ice dragon behavior.” She pauses for effect. “He also personally tested the water temperature. Multiple times. For safety reasons, he said.”
“Safety reasons.” Nasyra’s dry tone carries clear skepticism.
“That’s what he claimed. With a completely straight face. While adjusting the cushions for, and I quote, ‘optimal ergonomic support.’”
“He selected the oils too.” Aisling holds up a bottle, examining the label. “These are high quality. Imported. Someone researched what would be best for human muscle recovery and skin care.” She sets it down with raised eyebrows. “That’s not the behavior of someone who just wanted to check security.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. The image of Auren—cold, controlled, precise Auren—researching massage oils and testing water temperature and arranging cushions is so unexpected, it makes me smile before I can stop myself.
“Well.” Aisling begins unlacing her boots with newfound enthusiasm. “I suppose my patients can survive without me for a few hours. The mineral content in this water looks promising.”
We descend into the pools, and I understand immediately why the brothers keep this place private. The heat seeps into muscles I didn’t realize were tight, dissolving tension that’s beenbuilding since I fled Valdoria. The water is silky against my skin, mineral-rich and soothing. Steam curls around us in gentle tendrils.
For the first time in ages, I feel something other than fear and grief and the constant pressure of survival.
I feel relaxed.
The wine flows freely.So does the conversation.
We’ve migrated to the cushions by the pool’s edge, wrapped in soft robes someone thoughtfully provided, passing around the oils and taking turns working knots out of each other’s shoulders. The food has been thoroughly demolished—apparently fighting for your life builds an appetite—and we’re well into our second bottle of wine.
“This is what I miss.” Aisling’s voice is soft, unguarded in a way I’ve never heard from her. “Before everything. I used to have spa days with my friends back in Cork. We’d get pedicures and drink too much prosecco and talk about nothing important.” She stares at her wine. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel normal again.”
“You’re not normal.” Selene bumps her shoulder gently. “None of us are. We’re Fire-Bringers who fell in love with dragons and fight shadow magic for fun. Normal is overrated.”
“Normal was going to be my whole life.” Aisling laughs, but there’s something real beneath it. “Veterinary practice. Nice apartment. Maybe a cat. I had a five-year plan. A ten-year plan. A retirement strategy.”
“What happened to the cat?”
“Never got one. Kept saying I was too busy.” She shakes her head. “Now I’m mated to a dragon who brings home injured creatures every other week. Last month, it was a three-leggedfox. Before that, a hawk with a broken wing. He says they ‘needed help.’” Her expression softens despite her exasperated tone. “We have seven permanent residents in what was supposed to be a storage room.”
“Rurik runs an animal sanctuary?” I can’t quite picture the chaotic, fire-touched dragon I’ve seen gently nursing wounded creatures.
“He thinks I don’t know. Sneaks them in at night, so I ‘accidentally’ discover them.” Aisling’s smile is fond. “The first time, I was furious. Now I just make sure he’s using proper wound care techniques.”
“So.” Selene tops off everyone’s glasses. “Childhood dreams. I’ll go first—what did little Selene want to be when she grew up?” She grins, clearly enjoying the spotlight. “A pirate. I wanted to sail the seas, find treasure, answer to no one. I had a wooden sword and everything. Used to make my grandmother walk the plank off her porch.”
“That tracks perfectly.” Aisling snorts. “I wanted to be a princess.”
