Everything feels wrong without Niko. I’m here, in this strange place, still moving, still breathing, but inside, something has curled up and gone still. I’m empty. Not even Zephyr is here to ground me in familiarity.
I take a deep breath, then step into the water. The heat bites at first, but I welcome it. I lower myself slowly, letting the warmth swallow me inch by inch. It’s the first thing I’ve felt all day that doesn’t hurt. My body sinks beneath the surface, and I close my eyes, hoping the water might wash away the hollowness too. But it clings to me like a second skin.
And I just stay like that. Submerged in the water as I let the weight of these past few days—hell, the past few weeks—settle upon me. I was given a new, beautiful home, but now I fear it might be taken away from me. I fell in love with Niko, but I feel absolutely helpless to save him now. I haven’t even had the chance to properly tell Niko that I love him. And then there’s Zephyr, a man who weighs more on my heart than he should. Whenhe’s made it clear he will never love me. My heart aches for him and everything that could be.
It’s all so much. Too much. And I can’t hold back the dam of tears any longer. A sob breaks from me, escaping from my core, until my whole body is consumed, shaking violently, barely containing the emotions pouring out of me. I cry for Niko and the pain he’s going through. I cry for Zephyr and the guilt he carries. And I cry for myself and the overwhelming sense of doom that has been cast upon me like a gray, stormy cloud.
I’m not sure how long I cry; I didn’t even realize I’m capable of so many tears. Each time I think they’ll stop, another wave of sadness washes over me, and I cry harder. This is not how a queen should act. I don’t feel strong, and I’ve never felt this much fear in my life. Maybe I was never cut out to be a queen.
As soon as that thought flickers through my mind, a hand lands on my shoulder. I gasp and twist away, heart pounding like a war drum. Panic floods me, blinding and breathless, as my body readies itself to fight or flee.
Then—
“Evangeline. It’s just me. I’m here.”
That voice. Gentle. Familiar. Anchoring.
Zephyr.
The world stutters to a halt.
My breath catches, and everything inside me crumples. Relief crashes over me like a wave. I turn, and there he is, kneeling next to the tub—solid and real, eyes full of something I can’t name. My chest aches, and before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him, clinging like alifeline. I’m angry with him, but my excitement at seeing him outweighs everything else.
He’s back, and that only makes me cry harder. For the briefest moment, Zephyr tenses. I don’t take it personally because I’m a naked woman crying into his chest, but then he relaxes and moves to wrap his arms around me. He’s holding me, and I fit perfectly in his arms.
“You’re back,” I manage to say between sobs. “You were gone for so long.”
Zephyr is the calm sea to my raging storm. He holds me, his hand rubbing my back soothingly. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed until this moment.
“I’m back,” he murmurs, voice low and steady against the top of my head. “I’m sorry I left for so long. I went to check on our borders. Spoke to the fae still out there, and I suppose I lost track of time.”
I shake my head, unable to form words. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s here. I know he needed to leave to clear his head. I don’t fault him for that. I just missed him. He’s known Niko longer and has loved him longer than I have. I will not deny him his time to mourn in his own way. Still, I’m glad he’s back.
We stay like that for a while, with the steam curling around us and my tears soaking into the front of his shirt. Eventually, the violent sobbing fades into quiet sniffles. My body, wrung out and trembling, starts to lean heavier against him, too drained to hold itself up. I feel like I’ve run a marathon and not simply cried my heart out to him.
“You’re freezing,” he says, not unkindly. “Let me help.”
He moves slowly, with a sort of reverence I don’t expect from someone who once told me he could never love me. Carefully, he takes the wide-toothed comb from the edge of the tub and eases me around, guiding my back to lean against his chest where he kneels behind the tub. I should feel embarrassed—even though he’s already seen every inch of me—bare as I am, but I don’t. Not with him. Not right now.
“You don’t have to—” I start, but he cuts me off gently.
“I know. Let me do this anyway.”
I won’t argue with him. Perhaps he needs this as much as I do.
Warm water trickles through my hair as he cups his hand, soaking one section at a time. The chill I didn’t realize I felt goes away once the warm water flows down my back. His fingers work through my tangles with surprising gentleness. Each stroke of the comb is slow, rhythmic, like he’s concentrating too hard, like this matters more than it should. The silence between us stretches, not uncomfortable, but full. Heavy with things unspoken.
He finds a bottle of something floral-smelling and lathers it through my hair. His fingers massage my scalp in slow, deliberate circles, and for a moment, I melt beneath his touch, allowing my eyes to close.
“It’s hard seeing him like this,” I whisper, voice trembling. I don’t mean to speak, but since I have, I can’t stop now. “He’s trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine. But I see it. I see how much he’s hurting.”
Zephyr’s hands still for a moment, then theyresume, slower than before. “I know,” something breaks in his voice. “It’s killing me too. That’s why I couldn’t bear being around him. It was wrong of me, but…”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize to me.” I tilt my head back to look at him, but his expression is unreadable. Guarded, as always. Then I see it—the faint crack in his armor, the pain behind his eyes. For Niko. For himself. Maybe… for me too?
His fingers pause again. He doesn’t speak, but the way he lowers his head slightly, the way his breath hitches, it’s enough of an answer.
After a while, he rinses the soap from my hair with a cup, careful not to get it in my eyes. The intimacy of it all shouldn’t feel this tender, but it does. It feels like more than kindness. Like a confession in silence. I don’t mean to look too much into it, but I can’t help it.
