Dinner left us in ruins.
Glorious, satisfied, delicious ruin.
There was no end to the food. The floating trays just kept coming like we were gods to be fed until collapse. I couldn't even tell you how many things I ate, only that they were warm and wonderful and spiced with something between citrus and cinnamon.
Kate slouched beside me, breathing like she'd fought a war.
Fay was smiling lazily, mana content and still.
Even Julius was leaning back in his chair like he might never get up again.
And then—
BWAAARP.
The mana spike was so sharp it startled me. I turned toward the vibrating outline across the table.
Rōko.
"Gods above," William muttered. "This is still the house of three kings. You can't act like a wild animal."
Rōko stood in one fluid motion, the motion so dramatic I could hear her jacket flutter. "Then I dare you to stop me."
She cracked her neck with exaggerated menace. "I'm gonna go take a bath. And since every freaking room here has its own personal waterfall, I'm taking advantage."
She started marching away. "Five hours. Minimum. I want to reemerge like a glistening spirit."
As she reached the archway, William called faintly, "That'll ruin your skin!"
From far down the hall came the immediate shout:
"Don't care, didn't ask, noble boy!"
Everyone burst out laughing.
I was still giggling when I said, "She's got a point though. A bath sounds amazing. Maybe not five hours, but…"
I stood, stretching slightly. Warmth tingled through my limbs.
As I passed by Julius, I reached out and gently patted the top of his head. A simple gesture. Light. Casual.
But I could feel the way his aura pulled upward like a flower toward sun, surprised, maybe even grateful. I didn't linger.
Because Salem's outline was already falling in beside mine.
Silently, naturally. As if drawn.
Fay's mana tilted toward Kate's, her voice soft. "She really is kind of cute. Always following Annabel like that."
I smirked. "Fay… I have the best hearing in all the continents. Whispering doesn't work."
Fay let out a strangled noise. Kate started wheezing from laughter.
Even Alven chuckled under his breath.
But I was already walking toward the grand corridor of rooms, warm carpet underfoot, flickering sconce-lamps casting mana against the walls. Salem's presence hovered steady at my side, not quite touching, but undeniably close.
⸻
The door to my bedroom was tall and heavy, but it swung open without resistance.
Inside, soft velvet furniture, crystalline vases, and windows I couldn't see but it felt nice and the nights breeze came from the balcony putting it all together.
The bathroom was through a second door, and when I opened it, heat kissed my face.
The bath itself was sunken, lined with smooth blackstone, and already pulsing with magic and warm water pouring from the mouths of the walls, as u walked along side it i could feel that they were carved lion-heads, steam curling through the air like mist from another world.
After i checked out the whole room i started tugging gently at my coat.
"Annabel."
I turned.
Salem's outline stood near the threshold. Still. Frozen.
Her mana trembled like it was trying very hard to be calm.
"…Would you mind," she said, "if I joined you? In the bath."
Every word felt like it had been sanded down before being pushed past her throat.
I tilted my head, completely unbothered. "Sure."
The tremor intensified.
"Really?"
"Two birds, one bath," I said. "And you're my bond. I don't think it's weird."
I meant it.
To me, there was no pressure, no shame. Just warmth. Just closeness. Just her.
I started stepping toward the bath.
Behind me, I felt her finally exhale. A breath she'd probably been holding since dinner.
The steam rose higher.
And somewhere beneath all that heat, her mana flickered with something wild — not fear. Not hunger.
Just feeling.
So much of it, it almost burned.
I reached for the hem of my shirt.
My fingers worked the fastenings lazily undoing each clasp, each tie, letting layers fall away like petals. The last of the day's grime slipped from my skin like it didn't belong there. I shed my clothes with a sigh and stood bare in the gentle steam, head tilted slightly toward the sound of water.
Behind me — by the door — Salem's mana shattered.
Not loud. Not violent. Just—stunned.
Still.
I didn't need to see her face.
Her aura pulsed in staggered waves. Like it didn't know whether to flee, faint, or combust.
"Salem?" I said casually.
Her voice came out strangled. "I—I'm not looking. I mean—I was, but not—not like that."
I paused, hands on my hips. "That doesn't sound very…truthful"
"I feel like I just walked into divine judgment."
A small smile tugged at my mouth. "It's okay. You're fine."
"No, I am not fine," she whispered harshly.
Her mana fluttered so violently it felt like it was ricocheting off the walls.
I hummed lightly, amused. Then I stepped into the bath.
The bath was divine.
No. More than divine.
It was warmth made manifest — soft and endless and deep enough that it cradled me like a second skin. The water steamed up the walls like breath, curling along the smooth stone until the ceiling shimmered. A slow cascade trickled from lionhead spouts, steady and eternal.
I leaned back, breath exhaling slowly. The heat settled into my bones.
Everything pulsed with gentle magic. Like the water itself had been coaxed into calmness.
Footsteps, light and hesitant, touched the marble.
I didn't have to turn to feel the shape that hovered at the threshold.
Salem.
Her mana was lit up like a lantern. Flickering. Sharp-edged. Trying not to be.
Still standing at the entrance.
I let my head rest on the rim of the bath. "You okay over there?"
"I'm fine," she said instantly, a little too instantly. Her voice cracked halfway through the word "fine."
Her mana twitched violently. A ripple of embarrassment. And something… else. Hesitation. Strained self-control.
She was struggling. Even though I wasn't looking at her, I could feel it — the awkward stillness of someone fighting every instinct in their body to just leave or leap.
I tilted my head a little. "You don't have to, if it's too much."
"I want to," she whispered. "That's the problem."
Another pulse of nerves.
Then fabric shifting.
The kind of slow, careful undressing you do when you're sure someone might see you — even when they can't. I heard the soft rustle of her jacket, the muffled tug of sleeves. Her boots coming off one at a time.
Her breathing was quiet, but it stuttered once. just as she reached the last layer.
I didn't speak.
Let her take her time.
When she finally stepped in, the bath trembled around her. A soft ripple, followed by another.
She moved slowly. Like the heat would scald her. Like I might.
I turned my head toward the sound. "Salem?"
"…Yeah?"
"Come here."
There was silence.
Then a faint splash as she took a step closer. Another. Hesitant. Every movement wrapped in doubt.
I reached out with one hand, mana spread gentle across the space — and when I felt her edge into reach, I grabbed her wrist.
She made a squeak.
I tugged her forward, guiding her without force. Her body tensed as her skin met mine, warm limbs and uncertain tension. She didn't pull away.
I pulled her into a hug.
Fully.
Tucked her against me in the water, i could feel her chest, my arms around her back, the heat wrapping around us like silk.
She froze.
Her breath hitched hard. Her whole mana flared like a dying star.
"I just wanted to hold you," I said quietly. "That's all."
Her hands hovered behind my back. Then, slowly, carefully — they came to rest on me. Light. Barely there.
She was trembling.
"You okay?" I asked.
She buried her face near my neck. I felt her hair, damp and tangled, brush against my cheek.
"Fine," she said. This time the word came out like a prayer. "Just…"
She didn't finish.
I didn't need her to.
I tightened the hug, letting her settle, letting her mana shake itself still. The heat didn't matter. The bath didn't matter.
Just the weight of her. The closeness.
And how safe it felt to be this near.
For a moment. No war, no spar, no names or kings.
Just two girls in the quiet steam.
Wrapped in calm.
The bath had gone quiet.
No sounds but the faint ripple of water, the hum of distant channels, and the slow rhythm of Salem's breath. Her body, once tense, had begun to soften in my arms — melting into the heat the way I had.
Time didn't feel real here.
It never did when I was with her.
We stayed like that for a long while. Her head tucked beneath my chin. My hands gently cradling her back. One of hers rested at my waist, not gripping, not pulling, just… being there.
I could feel her mana evening out. Still bright, still hot, but no longer in a panic. More like a small flame… dancing. Comfortable.
Content.
The kind of quiet that makes you forget how loud the world is.
Then — slowly — her hand moved.
Not fast. Not even deliberate.
Just… drifting.
From my waist, up the side of my ribs. Barely grazing skin. A featherlight trace of warmth that sent little pulses through me. Not from nerves, more like a small presence.
I didn't speak. Not yet.
I could feel her mana, how it trembled again, not in fear this time, but in hope. In aching. Her fingers ghosted the side of my chest, brushing so softly it felt like memory. Then higher, curling around my shoulder as she pulled me closer, like she needed more of me than the world had ever allowed.
I tilted my head, listening with my skin.
The pressure of her hand at the center of my back. The slow press of her chest against mine, all soft curves and stammering breath. Her legs brushing mine under the water, and not pulling away.
We were wrapped together.
Quiet.
Unafraid.
Her breath caught just before she whispered.
"…I love you."
It was so soft I nearly missed it.
But I didn't.
My heart heard her.
"I love you," she said again, barely above a breath. "And I don't know how to show you. But I want to. So…so maybe this."
Another touch. Her hand, hesitant, trembling — came to rest gently over my neck. Not in hunger. Not even in courage. Just… the wish to be close. Closer than words allowed. Her fingers curled faintly there, reverent, fragile.
Then something warmer.
A kiss.
On my neck.
Gentle. Hesitant. So quick it almost didn't happen.
My breath caught, not from discomfort, but from the sincerity of it. The way her aura leaned in, humming against mine. The way her skin had started to glow against me, her emotions rippling out in waves she couldn't hide.
Another kiss. Higher now. My jaw.
Then a third. Near the corner of my mouth.
I turned slightly toward the sound of her breath.
"Salem?" I murmured. "What are you doing?"
She didn't retreat.
She didn't stammer, or vanish like steam.
Her voice came steady and quiet, but no longer shaking. "I'm showing you. How much. I love you."
A pause.
Then the faintest brush of lips against mine.
One.
Then another.
I didn't move — not because I was frozen, but because I was listening. Not with ears. Not even with mana.
With my heart.
Her kisses didn't demand anything. They didn't burn or take or rush.
They gave.
A part of her with every touch. Vulnerable. Wordless. Honest.
Like a promise wrapped in silence.
Her hand slid gently back to my side, her fingers brushing my ribs, hips, the edge of my thigh beneath the surface. Her thigh nudged between mine just a little, and neither of us moved away.
Not shame.
Not caution.
Just closeness, growing like something planted long ago.
I leaned in too.
Our foreheads touched.
Our noses brushed.
And the last kiss she gave lingered, warm and trembling, all breath and feeling. Not deep. Not hungry. Just… full.
She pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, "Thank you… for not pushing me away."
I let my arms wrap around her.
Tighter than before.
"I would never," I said softly. "You're home, Salem."
And then, because I couldn't see her, because I wanted to know her, truly — I let one hand lift from her back and rise, slowly, along her skin.
From her neck, soft, warm, to the gentle slope of her shoulder.
I felt her breath catch again, and her mana surged — not from fear. From knowing. From being seen, even without sight.
My palm brushed across one of her breast. I gave the faintest, curious squeeze — not invasive, just enough to mark shape, to learn her body as I had learned her voice. I moved down along her side, memorizing the curve of her waist, the soft flare of her hips. Her thigh met mine again beneath the water — warm, strong, and still trembling ever so slightly.
She didn't stop me.
She didn't need to.
She understood.
"I want to know," I whispered. "How you feel… how you are."
She pressed her forehead to mine again, her hand resting now over my heart.
"You feel all of me," she said softly. "Always have."
"I'm so glad you ended up as my bond, Salem."
And in that bath — wrapped in steam, magic, and touch, I saw her.
Fully.
The girl who loved me.
The girl I was beginning to love back.
——
We rose from the bath slowly.
The water clung to our skin like warmth reluctant to let go.
I could hear the quiet drip of droplets sliding off limbs, hitting stone — soft, rhythmic. My robe lay folded neatly where I'd left it. I bent to reach it, but Salem was already there. Her mana flickered as she lifted the fabric, brushing it gently over my shoulders.
"Let me," she murmured again.
I nodded, grateful.
The robe settled around me like silk, still warm from the steam. Salem's presence trailed around behind me, a careful touch, her own towel rustling as she dried herself off. The air was thick, scented with lavender and steam, but the heat had softened. I could feel a draft brush the edge of my ankle. Somewhere, water dripped into a channel.
We moved to the stone bench near the far wall — one of those long, smooth slabs designed for resting, or drying, or just breathing.
I sat first. The stone was cool beneath the robe, grounding. I felt Salem lower herself beside me, a soft flutter of mana brushing against mine. She didn't speak.
The silence wasn't empty, it was waiting.
And I didn't know how to begin.
"I…" I started.
Then stopped.
My hands tightened in my lap.
"I'm not sure if I should say this."
Salem turned her head toward me. I could feel her focus, how her aura drew closer, her concern lighting up like a quiet star.
"You don't have to," she said softly. "Not unless you want to."
"I do," I whispered, "but…"
I shook my head.
"It's not that I'm afraid of you. I'm not. You're the one I trust more than anyone. It's just… i have this thing, this secret, it's old. Heavy. It's followed me since I was born. I never let anyone close enough to see it. Not fully."
Salem was still.
No judgment. No pressuring.
Just her.
That made it harder.
I reached up and touched my face — the moisture at the edge of my eyes surprising me. Tears. Of course.
The moment I felt my breath hitch, Salem was already moving.
Her mana shifted fast — a rustle of fabric, a pulse of certainty. Then I felt her kneel beside me, one knee to the bench, her hands cupping my face.
"Hey," she said gently. "Look at me."
I tilted my head toward her, mana stretching. I could feel the outline of her, close, intense. Her fingers brushed a tear from my cheek.
"I don't care what the secret is," she whispered. "I swear to you, it won't change how I see you. You are still you. I'm your bond. You are the person I…" Her voice broke, then steadied. "The person I love."
I bit my lip, trying to stay still.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"You can tell me in ten minutes. In ten years. Or never. But you have to know… I want you. Not a version of you. Not some perfect piece. Just you."
Another kiss.
This time to my cheek.
"I'll always want to be closest to you. So don't carry it alone. Not anymore."
A pause.
Then, lighter, teasing "Besides… if you cry, I'm gonna cry. And then this whole bench is gonna flood."
I let out a short breath — a half-laugh, half-sob. "You're ridiculous."
"Yup," she said, brushing my wet hair behind my ear. "I learned from the best."
Her lips met mine again — soft, lingering, like a promise.
I leaned into her hand.
And finally… I whispered, "Thank you."
We sat like that for a while longer. My head resting gently against hers. Her fingers tracing slow, quiet lines across my back — over the old scars, the new ones. Memorizing them with reverence.
She didn't ask for more.
She just held what I gave her.
And somehow… that made me feel more seen than anything.
___
We dressed slowly.
The warmth of the bath clung to us, trailing behind like steam that hadn't yet realized it was meant to fade. My robe felt heavier now, not from dampness, it had dried quickly with the enchanted stones — but from the weight of what I was holding.
What I was finally ready to share. Like she said, i don't have to carry it alone anymore.
I sat at the edge of the bed. The room was quiet. Cool air brushed over my damp hair, and somewhere, faint through the window, I heard the hum of night creatures, restless in the garden's thickets.
"Salem," I said softly.
She appeared at my side before I finished the name, her presence unmistakable. Mana sharp, warm, tethered directly to me.
She didn't speak, just straddled my lap without hesitation, legs folding around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hands found my shoulders, claws gently tracing the skin at the base of my neck. Light, soothing scratches — just pressure and care, the way she knew grounded me.
My breath came slower.
"I want to tell you something," I said.
A pause.
"I know you said I could take ten minutes or ten years… but I need to say this. To someone. And you're the only person I think won't push me away."
Her fingers stopped for a second — just a second — before moving again. One thumb lifted, brushing across my collarbone.
"You're right," she said softly. "I won't."
I inhaled slowly. Let out a soft cough
"This isn't my first life."
Her mana flickered with interest, not alarm.
"I had a life before this one. A full one. And I remember it all. Not dreams. Not fragments. Everything."
I swallowed, felt my voice waver.
"I was a general. A real one. Fought in wars. Gave orders. Died in my early thirties, blade to the stomach by an ambush, Then—this. Reborn. Here. As Annabel."
There was silence.
Then—
A laugh.
Warm. Breathless. So casual I almost forgot how much I'd been afraid.
"Is that it?" Salem said, tilting her head, brushing her nose just under my jaw. "You really thought that was what would make me push you away?"
I blinked.
She leaned in closer, her weight pressed more against my chest, her aura playful but glowing.
"Annabel," she said firmly, "I don't care how many lives you've lived. I told you before — your flaws, your history, your darkness, none of it scares me. I love you."
She said it so easily now. Like it had always been true.
"You gave me choice when you didn't have to. You saw something in me when I was convinced I was only a weapon. You're my purpose now. So what if you had thirty extra years of sword swinging and war stories? That just means you're even more capable."
I let out a shaky breath, half-laugh, half-relief. My throat was burning.
She nudged my nose with hers. "But just so you know, I will still be annoyingly protective. Especially now that I've kissed you. That's your fate now."
I let the tears fall.
Quietly. Not from sadness, not anymore.
From relief.
From love.
With one soft push, I laid her back on the bed. her aura flaring briefly in delight — and leaned over her, cupping her face with both hands. Another kiss. Slow, deliberate, firm. A sealing of something long held, long carried. A silent thank you.
When I pulled back, I smiled and whispered, "You're stuck with me."
She hummed.
"That's the plan."
I reached for the crystal beside the bed, brushing its rune with my fingertips. The glow dimmed slowly, casting the room in a soft, ambient dusk, not really light, not for me, but less sharpness in the air. Quieter edges. Softer mana.
I turned toward her.
So did she.
We lay facing one another now, close enough that our knees bumped under the blankets. Her hand slipped instinctively to my waist again, fingers curling gently at my side. My palm found her cheek. Warm. Smooth. Her mana flared at the touch, not sharply, not in panic — but like a hearth catching wind.
She nudged her forehead against mine.
"No matter if you're thirteen," she whispered, "thirty… or eighty…"
Her hand found mine under the blanket, threading our fingers together.
"I'll always be here for you."
My breath hitched, and I felt my mouth open, but no words came.
Just a sound. Something fragile and quiet. Something that could've been love if I'd said it aloud.
Then she added, in a softer voice still—
"I'm sorry, but…"
She brushed her lips gently across mine — not quite a kiss, just a motion, a promise.
"I think I've become addicted."
I laughed under my breath, tears still clinging to the corners of my eyes.
"To kissing you," she clarified. "That's what I meant."
"I figured," I said, voice thick with warmth.
She kissed me again, longer this time, slower. Like each second pressed against my lips might make her feel realer, deeper, more certain in this new closeness we'd found.
And I kissed her back.
Because I wanted her to know. And i wanted myself to know.
She was real.
She was mine.
And even if I'd lived a hundred lives before this one…
I'd choose this moment again.
And again.
And again.