“And Drayke?”
“Drayke hasn’t had a lazy Sunday in four centuries.” Selene shakes her head with fond exasperation. “He’s always moving. Always planning. There’s always another crisis, another meeting, another threat to assess. I have to physically drag him away from his duties to get him to eat dinner with me, and even then, he’s thinking about what comes next.” She takes a sip of wine. “He’d rather discuss battle strategy than philosophy. Thinks romantic getaways are ‘strategically inadvisable during times of conflict.’ Which is always, according to him.”
“And yet?”
“And yet.” Her expression softens into something private and precious. “When I need him—really need him—he stops. Everything else disappears. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, and suddenly all those dutiesand meetings and threats just... wait. He carved out time last week to read with me by the fire. Didn’t say a word for two hours. Just sat with me because I asked.” She smiles. “He’s not good at slowing down. But he’s learning. For me, he’s learning. And when he does stop rushing, when he actually lets himself be present—” She shakes her head. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”
Nasyra is quiet for a long moment before she speaks, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.
“I wanted someone bright. Full of light. Someone who would chase away the shadows and make everything feel warm and simple.” She looks down at her hands, where her shadow-flame flickers in and out of visibility. “I got a man made of shadows. Cursed. Broken. Convinced for five centuries that he deserved nothing but darkness.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand that light isn’t the absence of shadow. It’s what you find within it.” She meets my eyes, something knowing in her gaze. “Zyphon will never be bright. He’ll never be simple. The curse has marked him in ways that won’t heal, even now. But he loves with an intensity that makes the sun seem dim by comparison. He would burn himself to ash to keep me warm. He wakes from nightmares and reaches for me like I’m the only real thing in the world.” Her mouth curves. “I stopped wanting someone to chase away my shadows. I found someone willing to live in them with me.”
The words settle into me, resonating in ways I don’t want to examine too closely. Ice, I think. Ice instead of shadow. But maybe the principle is the same.
“Your turn, princess.” Selene’s eyes sparkle with mischief she’s not bothering to hide. “What did little Tamsin want in a man?”
I consider lying. Consider deflecting with humor or changing the subject. But something about this space—the steam, the wine, the warmth of women who’ve become something closer than friends—makes honesty feel safe.
“Someone warm.” The admission feels like peeling back armor. “Passionate. The kind of man who felt things openly and wasn’t afraid to show it. I spent my childhood surrounded by political calculation and careful diplomacy, everyone wearing masks, no one saying what they really meant. I wanted someone who would sweep me off my feet and make me feel like the most important person in the world. Someone whose love would be obvious and uncomplicated.”
“Very romantic,” Aisling says. Her tone is gentle rather than teasing.
“Very naive.” I stare at the ceiling, watching steam curl through the enchanted lights. “I had suitors at court. Princes and nobles and wealthy merchants’ sons. All of them performed warmth beautifully. Brought gifts and wrote poetry and said everything I was supposed to want to hear. Grand gestures. Public declarations. Flowers and flattery.”
“But?”
“But I could never trust it. Never knew if they wanted me or my power or my position. The warmth was always calculated, the passion always performed. They’d smile at me and I’d see them cataloguing my value, measuring what I could do for them.” I take a breath. “So I stopped looking. Decided maybe passion was overrated. Maybe what I actually needed was someone honest. Someone who showed me exactly who they were, even if who they were was cold and guarded and difficult.”
The silence stretches. I become aware of three sets of eyes watching me with varying degrees of amusement and understanding.
“Interesting.” Selene’s voice is far too innocent. “Someone cold and guarded and difficult. Can’t imagine who that might describe.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“Auren tested the water temperature several times.” Aisling interrupts, her green eyes gleaming. “For safety.”
“He arranged the cushions,” Nasyra adds. “Personally adjusted them for optimal ergonomic support.”
“He researched massage oils.” Selene delivers the final blow. “And he’s been finding excuses to walk past the Fire-Bringer quarters every evening for the past four days, looking for ‘security vulnerabilities.’ At the exact time you usually return from training.”
My face is burning, and it has nothing to do with the hot springs.
“He’s my trainer. My assigned protector. He’s responsible for?—”
“Tamsin.” Nasyra’s voice cuts through my deflection. “I’ve known Auren for almost five centuries, through Zyphon. In all that time, I’ve never seen him test bath water for anyone. I’ve never seen him research oils. I’ve never seen him find reasons to walk past someone’s quarters.” She pauses meaningfully. “Whatever you think is happening between you—it’s not one-sided.”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to process the flutter in my chest, the warmth that spreads through me at the thought of Auren—cold, controlled, impossibly precise Auren—checking water temperature because he wanted me to be comfortable.
“He’s not what I imagined.” The words come out quiet. Honest. “He’s nothing like the warm, passionate man I used to dream about. He’s ice and calculation and walls so high, I can barely see over them.”
“But?” Selene prompts.
I think about the rampart. The way his voice cracked when he spoke about Lyric. The way he caught me—both times—as if letting me fall wasn’t an option his body would consider. The way he looked at me in the starlight, telling me things he’d never told anyone.
“But he’s honest.” I meet their eyes one by one, letting them see the truth I’m only now admitting to myself. “He showed me exactly who he was from the beginning. Didn’t pretend to like me. Didn’t perform warmth he didn’t feel. And underneath all that ice...” I trail off, searching for words. “There’s fire. Banked so deep, he’s forgotten it’s there. But it’s there. I’ve seen it.”
