The baths were busy today.
No surprise. After each grueling attack, the Seraphians and Chosen needed time to unwind. The bathhouses were nothing like the clear, winding pools of the Sun Court. Rivers deep inside the island’s core fed the irregularly shaped pools. The dark teal waters were revered for their healing properties, but it was the subtle shimmer of magick sparking across its steaming surface that enticed Haven.
Her boots splashed through the puddles pooled on the stone floor as she crossed to the second bath, where the Solis and members of the Order of Soltari congregated.
Silence overtook the light din of voices as she passed, trying not to make eye contact. The reverence in their faces always left her feeling unsettled.
Unworthy.
The final bathhouse was the smallest, its winding pool set deep into the glassy-smooth black stone that made up most of the island. Beastly creatures were carved into the face of the towering columns supporting the roof. Beyond those columns was a breathtaking view. The Ravenite Mountains a jagged cutout of obsidian and cream on one side; the ferocious Obsidian Sea on the other.
“Haven!” a familiar voice called, dragging her from the fog of battle and death.
As Haven took in Bellamy’s features, his easy smile and vibrant topaz eyes, a weight lifted from her tight shoulders. Surai and Ember were with him, deeply engaged in a conversation Haven couldn’t hear. The water’s magick glistened off their skin and seemed to irradiate the intricate web of runemarks covering their muscled flesh.
Bell splashed at her as she approached. He was leaned against the side of the pool, basking in a rare beam of sunshine streaming through a skylight. The steam had loosened his curls so that his hair fell tousled and wild to one side.
A bruise was already darkening his high cheekbone, and more mapped his upper chest and back, along with a nasty cut on his shoulder.
The wound had already closed under the healing water’s touch, the angry red line fading into his taupe skin. It was said the magickal properties of the hot springs came from deep within the earth, leeching from the same source that created the crystals.
“I hope the other guy looks worse,” she remarked as she stripped off her boots, pants, and finally her tunic. Surai looked up from her conversation, her lips tilting at the corners as she saw Haven’s reluctance to shed her underclothes.
Everyone else was fully naked, even Bell. But Haven had yet to acclimate to the Seraphian custom of bathing together daily.
Only the royal Seraphians had their own bathing chambers, smaller versions of this set high atop the palace. Stolas had offered Haven his . . . but the others already looked at her differently.
Special privileges would only widen that chasm she felt slowly yawning between them.
Ember’s tawny cheeks were mottled and red from the heat, and they lifted beneath her grin as she took in Haven’s underclothes. “Why hide the body the Goddess gave you?”
Ever protective, Surai cut her eyes at Ember. “Mortals teach their women to be ashamed of their bodies.”
Ember didn’t appear surprised at the explanation, but she didn’t remark further on it.
Ignoring them both, Haven sunk into the water’s blissfully warm embrace. A moan fled her lips as the heat worked its way into her muscles. Her eyelids dragged shut.
Bell chuckled beside her. “The look on your face is the same one you have when you eat sticky buns.”
“If only the Seraphians made those.” She sank deeper into the water, resting her head on the edge of the pool. One eye slid open. “So your magick worked then?”
“You should have seen me.” Pride sparked inside his bright blue eyes. “I mean, Xandrian was there the whole time, and my threading was a disaster—even with help from my acrum. But I used a fire spell and managed to nick one of the Asgardians with my dagger.”
Behind Bell, Ember and Surai forced back grins. Bragging about nicking an enemy in battle must seem so silly to warriors such as them.
Surai tweaked his ear. “Careful being such a badass or they’ll write songs about your exploits.”
“I bet they already have with these muscles,” Haven teased, squeezing his arm. Bell would never be huge, but his training had reshaped his slender body, coaxing out muscles she never knew he had.
A sheepish grin brightened his face. She could almost see his happiness seeping across the water and into her breast, thawing the cold fist that seemed permanently wrapped around her heart.
Bell was flourishing under Xandrian’s expert tutelage, but it wasn’t just his runecasting that had improved. The Sun Lord’s swordplay lessons focused on Bell’s innate talents—agility and speed—a sharp contrast to his father’s stubborn insistence that Bell learn to fight using brute strength.
His magick was coming along slower than he’d like, but according to Xandrian, for a mortal from the House Nine, that was to be expected. His magick had been dormant for years. Once they narrowed down his type of power, it would be easier.
“I heard you destroyed a portal,” Bell remarked, and Haven stiffened, remembering the Asgardians’ screams. “I thought we agreed you would stay inside the tower, where you’re protected?”
“I agreed that the tower was the safest place for me, but I never promised to stay there during an attack.”
“Smartass.” Bell rolled his eyes.
“Droob.”
“If the monk were here, you would stay put.”
“Possibly,” she admitted, cringing as she imagined the disappointed way he would quietly stare at her, his judgment cutting in its silence. If it were up to the monk, she would be in the temple every waking hour, praying for direction from the Goddess. “When he returns, maybe don’t mention last night?”
The monk—they still had yet to learn a name—was traveling around Solissia gathering Order of Soltari recruits.
“I made an oath, Haven.” The grooves around his mouth deepened as his voice grew solemn. “An oath to protect you. So let me. You know what would happen if Archeron captures you . . .”
Surai’s face darkened. “We no longer use that name. It belonged to my brother-in-arms, and he’s passed to the Nihl.”
“The new Sun Sovereign,” Bell corrected, “won’t stop until he has Haven. If I was ruler of Penryth, I could offer her more protection—” A muscle in Bell’s jaw ticked, and she noticed how his fingers curled and uncurled at the mention of his stolen kingdom. “Until we hear back from the emissaries, this island remains too unprotected.”
They’d sent out emissaries over two weeks ago to every corner of the realm. All of Haven’s hopes rested on building alliances, hopes that deteriorated more and more each day the emissaries failed to return.
Surai’s face was achingly empty of emotion as she said, “Every one of us would die before we let him take her.”
Ember arched an eyebrow, the teasing gesture so painfully similar to Rook’s that Haven’s breath caught. “If only the new Sun Sovereign had enough peach-fuzz on those little balls of his to come to Shadoria instead of sending hired mercenaries.”
Haven tried to smile at the joke, but the wounds Archeron had left were still too fresh. Every mention of him dragged his face to the surface.
His arrogant smile. His rich, always teasing voice. That fiery hope he’d always carried inside him to chase away the unrelenting darkness.