As he turned to leave, she caught Zarrek by the arm and murmured loudly enough for Resh to hear, “Why didn’t you just call me? I would’ve gladly kept her company during her bath.”
Resh froze mid-step and leveled her with another withering glare over his shoulder.
“Because you would’ve jumped in with her instead of stopping her.”
Thessia grinned, utterly unrepentant. “Only if she asked in the same sweet voice she uses with you.”
Resh reached the Commander’s tent in long, fast strides. He’d seen the steam rising from it when he crested the hill, but he wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he peeled open the tent flap to go inside. The steam hit him like a brick wall. He narrowed his eyes and waved his hand in front of him to keep it out of his eyes.
The air inside was dense, fragrant, stifling. Maps, books, and scrolls curled from the moisture. It clung to his face, his armor, his skin. Beneath it, a dozen scents vied for dominance.
Moonbark. Fireroot. Wild fennel. Caliana root?
He hadn’t drawn any of these oils from storage. They should have been locked in inventory for trade, still under his seal.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. The water didn’t slosh. The tent poles didn’t creak. The steam didn’t hiss—it justhung.
His eyes adjusted—and then he saw her.
There.
In the tub.
Her body folded into the curve of it, one arm draped over the edge, fingers just brushing the floor. Her skin was flushed from the heat, hair floating like spun starlight around her shoulders.
And she was still.
So still.
His heart dropped.
He didn’t think—just moved.
He knelt beside the tub, one hand hovering over the water. It was hot, but not scalding. Carefully balanced.Controlled.
His gaze swept to the nearby basin, and sure enough, a single candle, snapped at the base and embedded with a mana sigil, flickered against a heating rune etched into the floor.
She cast all this.
Not her strange magic. Not instinct.
A true, structuredspell.
Her first, as far as he knew.
His hand hesitated as it hovered over her shoulder, then slowly lowered. His palm met her damp skin.
“Auryn,” he whispered.
Nothing.
His other hand reached for her wrist, light enough to feel her pulse.
It was there.
Faint. Slow.
Butthere.
