34. Selis #2
Not relief exactly. But something just shy of it. Something like a stay of execution.
Her glow is dim now, barely flickering beneath her skin. She looks wrung out. Hollowed. And still too good for the world that keeps asking her to die for it.
I tuck her hair behind her ear, gentle like she might vanish if I press too hard.
“One night,” I echo.
That’s all I’ve bought.
And gods help anyone who tries to take her from me before it’s over.
** *
Night is thick around us, the kind that presses in close and makes every sound feel like it’s meant for your ears alone. The fire crackles low, shadows flickering across Naera’s face where she sits beside Rialeth. Too close. Not touching, but close enough that I feel it like a splinter in my palm.
I watch them from across the clearing, arms folded, back against a tree I don’t trust. My blade rests across my thighs. Just in case.
Naera leans forward slightly. Her voice is low, careful. I can’t hear what she says, but I catch the shape of her lips when she says Ria’s name.
And fuck, it does something to me. Something ugly.
I should’ve killed her. Rialeth. I should’ve done it back when Naera collapsed and her holy little mouth started spitting prayers instead of answers.
I could’ve ended her then, quiet and clean.
The blade wouldn’t have even sung for it.
Just a mercy cut and a silence that wouldn’t keep looking at Naera like she still belongs to her.
But Naera…
She told me I wasn’t a monster.
The memory is a shackle. A soft one, velvet-lined—but it still pulls taut around my chest when I move to stand. Because I want to. I want to end this tension with blood, with certainty. Chain Naera to me if I have to. I could do it. I’ve done worse.
Could she burn me, like she did Veyra?
Maybe.
Would it be worth the risk ?
Definitely.
But fuck, when she looked at me with tears in her lashes and said “you’re not a monster,” I wanted to believe her.
A hush settles between the two of them now. Naera nods slowly at something Rialeth says. There’s grief on her face. Not trust—but something like shared ruin.
I push off the tree. My boots crunch softly in the frostbitten grass as I cross to them, and both their heads lift at the sound.
“There's a spring nearby. I’m going to warm up there,” I say, voice flat but loud enough to cut through whatever sacred little spell they were spinning.
Naera tilts her head toward me. Her lips part. Still pink. Still soft from that kiss she gave me in front of Ria like it meant something. Like I meant something.
“You coming?” I ask.
She lights up. “Yes.”
Rialeth’s face goes tight. She looks like she’s just swallowed a lemon. Her jaw twitches. Her hands tighten in her lap like she’s gripping the urge to make a sign of protection—or maybe just reach for a knife she doesn’t carry. Fucking idiot.
“It’s not proper,” she says. Smooth on the surface, but I hear the crack beneath it. “You shouldn’t leave now. You need prayer, not… indulgence.”
There it is.
Naera turns her head slowly, something unreadable in her expression. But then—she smiles. Radiant. Polite. And laced with venom so fine you’d only know it was there after it burned you from the inside out.
“I’ll bathe with Selis,” she says, sweet as honey .
Rialeth makes a sound like she’s been struck—like the air left her lungs all at once. She recoils, not back physically, but you can see the holy mask slip. Just a hairline fracture. But enough.
And Naera—she doesn’t even pause. Just stands. Smooth and steady, despite the faint tremble I know she’s hiding in her legs. She turns her back on Rialeth like it’s nothing.
I could kiss her for it.
Maybe I will.
She brushes past me, the edge of her cloak grazing my fingers. I watch the curve of her jaw, the way her shoulders stay proud despite the weight of everything pressing on her spine. She’s made of starlight and survival and teeth hidden in blossoms.
I fall into step beside her, and for a second, just one, I glance back at Rialeth. She’s still sitting. Possibly praying, all while pretending she’s got a right to any part of this.
But Naera chose to walk away.
And gods help her, I hope she keeps walking. Because if she tries to walk back into that so-called garden—
No.
Not yet.
For now, I follow the moonlit shimmer of her glow through the trees toward the spring. And try not to think about what it will cost to keep her.
***
The hot spring is quiet. Steam curls upward in lazy spirals, threading through the canopy like smoke from some forgotten offering. Moss clings to the stones. The water is still and pale, edged with a faint mineral sheen that catches the moonlight like a broken mirror.
Naera slips out of her cloak. She doesn’t say anything this time, doesn’t tell me to look away. She just lets it fall, slow and deliberate, pooling at her feet like it’s not a thing worth noticing.
And this time, I turn away before she can ask.
But the water betrays her.
Her reflection wavers in the surface like a ghost. Pale skin kissed by starlight. The silver length of her hair spilling down her back like smoke and silk. The soft slope of her waist, the curve of her shoulders—
My throat tightens. Heat licks behind my ribs, sharp and hollow.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Not in a fragile way. Not like a thing to be caged. But like a star right before it explodes—radiant, unstoppable, too much.
And I’m a fool for ever thinking I could keep her.
We slip into the water. She wades in slow, deliberate. I follow, every part of me taut with want and the fear that she’s already slipping through my fingers.
Silence stretches between us. Long. Heavy. She doesn’t look at me. I don’t blame her.
Then her voice, low and even. Almost too even.
“Do you think I’m a fool?”
I blink. “Constantly,” I say, trying to keep it light.
She huffs softly. Almost a laugh. “But truly?”
I hesitate. “... Yes and no.”
She doesn’t respond. Just takes a breath and dips beneath the surface. Her silver hair fans around her like threads of moonlight woven in water. Ethereal. Unreal. She looks more vision than woman. Like something I was never meant to touch .
She resurfaces with a breath, blinking through the steam, droplets clinging to her lashes. Her eyes shine like moonstone in the mist. She leans back against the edge, head tilted to the sky, lashes damp and clumped together.
She’s glowing again. Softly this time. A quiet burn. Like something divine is curled up inside her, just resting.
And it pisses me off.
Because that glow is the reason she thinks she has to die.
“I think you were raised to believe pain had meaning,” I say quietly, watching the water swirl around her arms. “That sacrifice was the highest form of devotion.”
She doesn’t argue.
She doesn’t need to.
The silence she leaves in the wake of my words says enough—says too much.
Then, quiet as a confession, she says, “You could still do it.”
My stomach drops like I’ve been shoved off a ledge.
“Do what?”
“Turn me in. Take the bounty.”
The words hit hard. Colder than the water. Colder than anything.
I turn toward her slowly, not trusting the steadiness of my limbs. “Is that what you want?”
She shrugs—small, sharp. Doesn’t look at me. Like she already knows this is going to hurt and can’t bear to watch it land.
“It’d give you enough to vanish. From everyone. The Garden. Your guild. You might as well.”
My jaw tightens.
“You’re offering your bounty as a consolation prize?”
That gets her to meet my eyes.
“I’m offering you a way out. ”
“You are the way out.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think better of them. Honest. Unvarnished. Final.
Her breath hitches—barely—but I catch it. Like a tripwire snapping. And I’m not done. Not close.
“You think I dragged you across half the woods, bled for you, ran from every place I ever burned a bridge just so I could dump you on a stone altar for pocket change?”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t argue. Just… watches me.
“I think you want to survive,” she says. “And I think you know you won’t if you keep choosing me.”
She’s not wrong. But that doesn’t make it any less infuriating.
“I’ve made worse bets.”
She doesn’t smile. No softness. No sharp-edged retort to chase the weight from the air. Just that same wide, steady stare.
Like she’s already seen the ending written in blood and ash and is trying to hand it to me gently.
“If you don’t hand me over,” she says, softer now, like she’s offering something sacred, “the outcome will be the same, but you’ll be poorer for it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t give a fuck about the coin anymore.”
Naera looks at me, eyes unreadable in the steamlight.
“I don’t want the bounty,” I say again, firmer now, stepping closer through the water. “I want you .”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t interrupt. So I keep going, because if I don’t say it now, I’ll drown in it.
“You said once that maybe Selene put us in each other’s path. That she wanted me to find you.”
Her lips part—like she wants to argue, or pretend she never said it. But she doesn’t. I take another step. Close enough now to see the droplets clinging to her lashes .
“So what happened to that, starlight?” I ask, my voice rough around the edges. “What happened to fate?”
“That was before,” she whispers. “Before I knew what she meant for me to do.”
“You think her meaning matters more than your own?” My voice cracks, rough and raw. “You matter. Not the gods. Not The Garden. You. ”
“But the others—”
“—This isn’t the way to save them,” I cut in, softer now. “This isn’t how it ends, Naera. Not with you broken on a stone altar.”
She flinches, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
“I chose you,” I whisper. The words burn in my throat. “I chose you. Not because it was easy. Not because it was smart. But because you looked at me like I wasn’t something to be afraid of. Because I felt like something more when I was with you.”
She’s still, breathing shallow.
“I’d do anything for you,” I say. “I’d live for you. I’d die for you.”