FORTY-FIVE #2
The magics move with me, not out of duty or necessity, but simply because I am letting them. I laugh again, tipping my head back, arms outstretched as I feel the Elements swirl and shift, alive in ways I’ve never truly allowed them to be.
I swirl my fingers one last time, and the final ember flickers out. The water settles back into the bath. The wind fades into stillness.
For a moment, I simply sit there, surrounded by quiet, light and unburdened.
Then something stirs. A subtle pull unfurls through the bond, familiar and impossible to mistake.
I exhale softly and close my eyes.
Thane.
His presence brushes against mine, threading through the connection between us until it feels as though an invisible tether has drawn gently taut.
Here he comes.
Rowena or someone from the training hall must have gone straight to him, probably before I even made it back here. I don’t need to hear the conversation to know exactly how it went.
Amara fought Ardyn.
Amara won.
Amara is bruised, bloodied, and currently soaking in a bath.
And Thane is probably going to storm in here like a goddamn Warlord ready to burn the whole hall down.
The thought earns a long, resigned sigh that’s entirely for my own benefit. I let my head tip back against the smooth stone of the bath and close my eyes, determined to enjoy these last few seconds of peace.
Then, I hear it. The heavy footfalls. The deliberate, clipped stride of someone marching toward me with a singular purpose. And gods, I swear I can feel the heat of his glare through the damn door.
Here we go.
I brace myself for the anger. The sharp-edged worry. The demand to know why I fought Ardyn and why no one stopped me. Why no one went to get him before it got that far.
But when Thane enters our quarters, I don’t feel any of that. No fury. No frustration.
What I feel instead is curiosity. Concern, certainly. But beneath it is something else.
Wonder.
That throws me.
I blink, turning my head toward him as he steps into the room, his presence a slow-moving storm rather than the wildfire I expected. His smoke-gray eyes move over me, over the bath, over the last wisps of steam curling in the air as the warmth of my magics lingers in the chamber.
The door clicks shut behind him. He doesn’t speak. But I feel his thoughts stirring through the bond, like warm embers shifting beneath ash.
I exhale, sinking a little deeper into the water as I drag my fingers through it.
“You’re not mad.”
It isn’t a question. His lips twitch slightly, though he doesn’t smile.
“Should I be?”
I study him for a moment.
“I don’t know. Should you?”
His gaze drops to the surface of the bath, where tiny ripples still dance from the magics I was just playing with. That curiosity flares again.
And suddenly I understand.
He didn’t just sense the fight through the bond. He sensed this. The magics. The way I lowered my shields and simply let myself exist in it. The way I shaped it and played with it without purpose or restraint.
I swallow, surprised by the sudden shyness that washes over me.
It feels strangely vulnerable, letting someone see this part of me when I am only just discovering it myself.
Then again, vulnerability has become a familiar companion these past few months.
Ever since the attack on my village, every new power, every revelation, every piece of myself I have uncovered has happened beneath the watchful eyes of others.
And it’s Thane.
His eyes search my face, as though he can feel my thoughts shifting beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he takes another step closer, his attention lingering on the water.
“Show me.”
For a moment, I simply look at him. At the curiosity in his expression, the complete absence of judgment, and the lack of expectation. He’s not asking me to train. To fight. To prepare for whatever disaster is waiting around the corner.
He just wants to see.
I exhale and drag my fingers through the water again. “All right.”
I lift a hand, and the water follows, twisting up from the bath in thin, glistening ribbons.
With a flutter of my fingers, I gather the strands together and begin shaping them, weaving them until the liquid forms the silhouette of a dog.
The water shifts into delicate details, suggesting floppy ears, a wagging tail, and paws that splash against an invisible floor.
Then it begins to move, silent and fluid, as though it is alive.
Thane inhales sharply.
I let the little dog pad across the surface of the bath, its tail wagging as it splashes through the water before I dissolve it with a single motion.
Then, I create a flower. A lily unfolds in the air, its translucent petals catching the candlelight as though they are carved from crystal rather than water.
His eyes follow every movement.
A fox appears next, curling its tail around itself.
Then a bird, wings unfurling as it glides through the steam.
Then a dragon, miniature and sharp-toothed, water swirling from its mouth like smoke before it vanishes into mist.
I glance at Thane. His expression remains unreadable, but I can feel his attention through the bond. He’s watching everything.
I close my eyes for a few moments, envisioning the shapes I want to create next. When I open them, I begin to build. The water rises in long, curving threads, forming structures, rooftops, paths, tiny homes.
A village.
My village.
It comes to life in front of me, water shimmering as I carve out the streets I ran through as a child, the houses I knew by heart, and the details that remain etched into me even now.
The bakery where I used to sneak fresh rolls before sunrise. The well where we dropped wishes into the water and hoped someone would hear them. The market that was always busy, always humming with life.
My fingers tremble slightly, but I don’t stop.
I create the people next. Tiny figures no larger than my thumb move through the streets as though they remember their lives there.
A child chases a dog between the houses. A mother gathers herbs near her doorway. A merchant leans over a stall, waving someone closer.
I watch them move through the village for a moment, feeling something tighten and loosen inside me all at once. It’s all still there. Every street and experience.
Still inside me.
Still mine.
I don’t look at Thane. Not until the last house is formed and the final street curves into place. When I finally meet his gaze, his expression is unreadable. But the bond is not.
A quiet kind of understanding settles between us. One that doesn’t need words.
When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle. “This was your home.”
I nod. “It was.”
I let the village linger for a few more seconds, the water shifting and shimmering in the candlelight. Then, with the softest movement of my hand, I let it all go. The village collapses back into ripples. The figures vanish. The houses dissolve as though they had never existed.
The water stills, but the feeling remains.
Thane leans against the door, arms crossed, but there’s no tension in his stance. That feeling blooms in the bond again. Wonder and deep admiration.
“That was incredible,” he murmurs, his voice quieter than I expected. “I didn’t know you could do that. Create something so intricate with your magics.”
His gaze lingers on the water.
“It wasn’t training. It wasn’t a weapon. You were creating for the sake of creating.”
A faint smile touches his lips.
“I think there might be an artist hiding beneath all that power.”
I stare at the water, still rippling softly where the village once stood.
“I didn’t know I could either,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not until just now.”
Thane pushes off the door and steps closer, moving with that same effortless control he always carries. Instead of stopping at the edge of the bath, he sits on the wide stone ledge, facing me.
“I heard you had quite the afternoon.”
His lips twitch as though he might smile, but the expression never fully forms. Instead, he exhales through his nose and rubs a hand along his jaw, his fingers lingering there for a moment as though he is working through something he hasn’t quite decided how to say.
I know that look.
Part of him understands exactly what happened in that training hall and why it happened. The other part would have very much preferred that I never stepped onto that mat at all. His grip tightens slightly against his knee, the only outward sign of the battle happening beneath the surface.
His eyes find mine. “Are you okay?”
Not “Are you hurt?” Or, “What were you thinking?”
I glance down at the water, watching the last ripples fade across the surface. My bruises still ache, but the healing has already begun. The soreness lingers, but it feels distant somehow.
I should feel exhausted. Instead, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
When I lift my gaze back to his, I find the same quiet concern waiting there.
“Yeah,” I say.
A small smile touches my lips.
“I think I actually am.”
Thane reaches out, his fingers barely grazing my skin as he brushes the back of his hand against the healing gash on my cheek. The cut has already closed, but I can still feel the raised ridge of skin and dull ache of a forming bruise beneath his touch.
I feel his relief through the bond, warm and gentle as it settles between us.
Thane chuckles, low and warm, shaking his head as if he’s given up trying to make sense of me. I catch the faintest flicker of amusement in the bond.
He leans forward slightly, watching me.
“So Ardyn challenged you to a Firebrand.”
A slow exhale escapes him, followed by another shake of his head, that lingering smile still tugging at his lips.
“And you won.”
I look at him, brows arched. “A Firebrand?”
Thane nods, the smile fading slightly. “Yes. It’s an old rite. Goes back centuries.”
Rowena’s words come back to me: “It’s the Fire Clan way.”
He shifts, resting his forearms on his thighs, his fingers loosely interlaced.