Then slowly, softly, he takes my hand and presses it to his chest—right over his heart.
“Breathe with me,” he whispers. “In…”
I shake my head, still trembling, but he presses on gently.
“One… two… three… four.”
I try. My breath hitches. Breaks. Comes again, slower.
“Out,” he whispers after a moment. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
We take another breath together, this one deeper. A sob tears from my throat as I finally look at him—reallylook. What I see is not a king or a captor or a warrior.
Just a man kneeling in silence, his heartbeat steady against my palm.
He holds me, and I let him. Just for a moment, I let him.
I cry into his chest as the cave spins dizzily around me, still shaking.
And then, all too aware, I remember myself and pull away. Hard.
He lets me go instantly. We sit in silence as the rain patters softly against the stone. Steam curls through the cavern like breath.
He must see the panic still in my eyes because his voice comes gentler now. “You’ll catch a fever if you stay in wet clothes,” he says. “That’s all I meant. I wasn’t—I just wanted to lay them out on the lava stones. The stones are warm; they’ll dry fast there. I wasn’t going to—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.
My throat clenches.
He’s still shirtless, his chest rising and falling like a storm tide. But his voice, his eyes, are steady. Earnest.
“I’d never hurt you, Fire. Never. You don’t need to fear me.”
My heart stammers at the way he says my name—no, not my name. My shield. I have to remember that. But still, the way he says it strikes something deep.
“I’m tired of being afraid.” The confession coming out unbidden, a whisper.
“Then let me help you,” he says, his voice barely more than breath. “Please.”
When I finally nod, Keiren rises and offers his hand. I hesitate, then take it.
His palm is warm and calloused. Real. He helps me to my feet, then slowly guides me to the edge of the glowing spring. I stumble slightly on a patch of moss, and he steadies me without a word.
My boots squelch. He kneels and begins unbuckling them one at a time, his fingers cautious and reverent. Not once does he meet my eyes.
When he’s done, he straightens again and steps away. “I’ll give you a moment,” he says, his voice low. Then he turns to face the cave wall, arms folded across his chest.
I stare at him. Just… standing there. Guarding me. Shielding me with his silence, his gaze set firmly ahead.
I peel off the layers slowly—cloak, tunic, underdress—until I’m left in only my underclothes. My fingers hesitate at the final layer, looking back to where Keiren still stands, unmoving. I remove the final layer, then enter the pool.
Steam kisses my skin as I step into the water. It’s so warm that it nearly steals my breath.
I swim to the far bank and sink into the water. I curl my arms around myself, letting the magic seep into my bones. The aches begin to fade. The tremble in my limbs eases.
“Okay,” I call softly.
Keiren turns. His eyes sweep the space around me, never landing on my body. His expression is unreadable. He picks up my clothes and drapes them across the lava stones near the pool’s edge. Then he begins to remove his own, again.
I watch—just for a moment—as he removes his boots, then goes for the buttons of his trousers.
