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I pulled my amulet out from under my shirt and studied it—its white fire magic still swirling inside. The amulet was both Earth and Sky combined. It had always reminded me of Aster, but in truth, it was greater than that.

At the edge of the water, I crouched down and let my fingers dance along the top. There was the same hum in the water as there was from the workshop upstairs. I didn’t even consider that the water wasn’t safe before I started tugging at my boots and woollen leggings. It had been days since I was clean and not cold to the bone, and every muscle in my body ached after a day spent on the back of a Warhorse.

Mist curled over the water in slow, ghost-pale ribbons, clinging low to the surface before lifting in gentle, breath-like drifts that caught the dim glow of carved runes in the stone. It smelled faintly of minerals, and the salty taste of magic touched my lips. The air pressed damp and warm against my arms, sinking into the cuts at my throat, easing the tightness there even as the humidity made the bandage itch.

The steaming water called to me on a level I had never known.

Pulling off my shirt, I stared at the rippling bright-blue pool ahead. I stood bare except for the amulet around my neck and the bandages, which I tugged off. I had no real opinion on my body other than it needed to be strong enough to fight and hidden from predators. But I would allow myself a moment of freedom, because Torran was right. I had always been in a cage, and I had found snippets of freedom when I could. Like tonight. Alone in the hot springs.

A path wound around the circular pool, its stone worn smooth underfoot, and I traced it until I found steps into the water. Snowflakes stung as they landed on my shoulders and hips, but their icy sting made me feel alive. I had survived. I lifted out my palms to catch a few and let my gaze drift over the mountains.

The mist parted as I stepped closer, curling around my legs, carrying that strange warmth upward. All I could think about was submerging myself in its depths to clean away everything I had been, but as my toes hit the steaming water, I hesitated. The cavern’s glowing magic ensnared me, captivating me with the unnatural movement of the mist. My shoulder itched, warning me not to fully trust this place, and I was about to turn back when…

“What in all the Gods are you…” Aster said, his voice a low rumble from the other side of the cavern. “Wren?”

I didn’t turn, and a small thrill coursed through me as I showed him what he had walked away from. My silent defiance was one I had perfected over the years.

But I wasn’t about to let him believe that it was an invitation either, so I placed my foot on the next step as the small waterfall to my left frothed over my calves. With one swift movement, I sank into the mineral-rich waters; my wrists and neck stung sharply at first, but then slowly eased into a soft throb.

“The springs run beneath it,” Aster said, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him pulling off his shirt, revealing markings that I hadn’t explored. “Healing runes are carved into the edges. This water will heal your cuts.”

“You know this place well.” I returned to the view and the distant tower. My voice was smaller here, absorbed by the cavernous space.

“I do.” Of course he did. There were whole worlds he had walked through while I had been trapped. The water rippled as he moved towards me. “I know that the waterfalls drown out all other sound.”

Scanning the walls and columns, there was no sign of the silver glowing runes. Was there really no one listening here? The knowledge made me reckless.

The winter sky stretched dark and infinite, stars glittering with treacherous beauty. A perfectly perilous night of Yule. And although we were under rock and stone, there was still nothing protecting us from the YuleMots’ reach. The risk of madness was real, and yet I had lost so much over the last few nights that perhaps there truly was nothing left for the gods of the Otherworld to take from me.

A loud splash behind me made me spin. Aster had submerged himself and then pushed himself up to stand, the warm water glistening on his chest, running down to the V that went…

I closed my eyes and pressed my spine against the smooth rock.

“Wren,” he murmured. “I only have so much restraint…”

When I snapped my eyes open, he was in front of me, just out of arm’s reach, and all I could think about was arching my back and pressing into him. I became acutely aware of everything all at once—the heat of the springs, the ache in my wrists, the sting in my neck, the way his gaze tracked every movement I made like he was measuring the risk of us being so close.

“Was your tattoo always that large…” His rough voice was just audible over the running water.

He was talking about the feather that was etched over my right shoulder blade. Where his nickname for me had come from. I didn’t want to talk about it.

So I slid along the wall until I was in the deeper section of warm water. The closeness of him made my nipples sensitive against the cool air rushing through the cavern, and I sank lower, desperate to hide my body’s betrayal. The water lapped around my neck, and I found him studying the wounds—all because of Torran and his smoke magic.

My gaze froze on his arm, and I held it there, not allowing it to move further. “That’s a lot of tattoos. Must have hurt?” I said, trying to even out my breathing.

He took one slow step closer. “It was how I got my Warhorse.” His gaze swept over every inch of me—the skin he could see and the distorted image of what existed beneath the waterline—and when it found my nipples, a small smile tilted his lips. That rare, true smile had always been my undoing.

I forced my focus to remain on his swirling designs, but even that small section of muscled skin was pulling me in. “Just some markings for a mythical beast? Seems too easy.”

“Wren, these aren’t just tattoos; they’re protection, and they’re the oaths I’ve taken…” He turned away from me then, and his jaw flexed. He took one long breath. “Once they accepted me and I had been deemed a Celt…” His voice was a soft rumble, and one hand slowly reached for me through the water. “A warrior. This was the reward.” He showed me the green glowing oaths embedded under the skin on his wrist. “There was no other way for me to survive there.”

So he wasn’t going to tell me exactly what he had done to get his Warhorse. I allowed the prickle of sadness to freeze my body to the spot and stop me from grabbing him and claiming his lips. Because no matter what was on his skin or the oaths he’d made, I still wanted him the way I always had. My loyalty to the cause was now the wall between us, not his tattoos or oaths.

I wouldn’t, couldn’t stay in the Ruckus like he wanted me to.

But it didn’t stop the growing desire to be reckless with my heart one last time. To run my hands over his newly decorated skin. To remember everything we had been to each other and to explore the new thing that he had become in our time apart. To try to fuse the two together, even if it would be utterly futile in the end.

So instead of stepping away this time, I stayed. The space between us held in that dangerous, fragile balance where everything felt possible and nothing felt safe. The mist curled higher around us, the water lapping softly against the stone.