Chapter 12
TWELVE
TAMSIN
The conversation drifts, as conversations do when wine is involved, toward more dangerous territory.
“What about men?” Selene stretches out on the cushions, the picture of lazy contentment. “When you were young and stupid and believed in fairy tales—what did you think you wanted?”
“Someone gentle.” Aisling’s voice is soft, almost dreamy. “Kind. Predictable. The type who brings flowers and remembers anniversaries and never does anything surprising. I was going to marry a nice accountant named David and have two children and a garden with roses.”
“Did you know an actual David, or was this a theoretical accountant?”
“Theoretical. I had the whole life planned before I met anyone to fill the role.” She laughs at herself. “Very romantic.”
“And instead you got Rurik.”
“And instead I got Rurik.” The way she says his name is exasperated and unbearably fond.
“The human equivalent of a forest fire. Unpredictable. Chaotic. Absolutely incapable of remembering where he left anything, let alone anniversaries.” She pauses, something soft crossing her face.
“He brought me flowers once. Got so nervous about whether I’d like them that he set them on fire before he could give them to me.
He was devastated. Didn’t speak for hours, which might be a personal record. ”
“What did you do?”
“Told him I preferred live plants anyway and made him help me start a herb garden in the infirmary.” Her smile goes impossibly soft.
“He checks on those plants every single day. Waters them. Talks to them when he thinks no one’s listening.
Tells them they’re doing a good job growing.
” She shakes her head. “He’s nothing like what I thought I wanted. He’s exactly what I needed.”
“I wanted someone sophisticated.” Selene’s turn, and her eyes sparkle with self-aware humor.
“Educated. Well-read. The kind of man who could discuss philosophy over dinner and appreciated fine wine and knew how to slow down and savor the moment. Someone who would whisk me away on romantic getaways and spend lazy Sundays doing nothing.”
“And Drayke?”
“Drayke hasn’t had a lazy Sunday in four centuries.
” Selene shakes her head with fond exasperation.
“He’s always moving. Always planning. There’s always another crisis, another meeting, another threat to assess.
I have to physically drag him away from his duties to get him to eat dinner with me, and even then, he’s thinking about what comes next.
” She takes a sip of wine. “He’d rather discuss battle strategy than philosophy.
Thinks romantic getaways are ‘strategically inadvisable during times of conflict.’ Which is always, according to him. ”
“And yet?”
“And yet.” Her expression softens into something private and precious.
“When I need him—really need him—he stops. Everything else disappears. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, and suddenly all those duties and meetings and threats just..
. wait. He carved out time last week to read with me by the fire.
Didn’t say a word for two hours. Just sat with me because I asked.
” She smiles. “He’s not good at slowing down.
But he’s learning. For me, he’s learning.
And when he does stop rushing, when he actually lets himself be present—” She shakes her head. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”
Nasyra is quiet for a long moment before she speaks, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.
“I wanted someone bright. Full of light. Someone who would chase away the shadows and make everything feel warm and simple.” She looks down at her hands, where her shadow-flame flickers in and out of visibility.
“I got a man made of shadows. Cursed. Broken. Convinced for five centuries that he deserved nothing but darkness.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand that light isn’t the absence of shadow.
It’s what you find within it.” She meets my eyes, something knowing in her gaze.
“Zyphon will never be bright. He’ll never be simple.
The curse has marked him in ways that won’t heal, even now.
But he loves with an intensity that makes the sun seem dim by comparison.
He would burn himself to ash to keep me warm.
He wakes from nightmares and reaches for me like I’m the only real thing in the world.
” Her mouth curves. “I stopped wanting someone to chase away my shadows. I found someone willing to live in them with me.”
The words settle into me, resonating in ways I don’t want to examine too closely. Ice, I think. Ice instead of shadow. But maybe the principle is the same.
“Your turn, princess.” Selene’s eyes sparkle with mischief she’s not bothering to hide. “What did little Tamsin want in a man?”
I consider lying. Consider deflecting with humor or changing the subject. But something about this space—the steam, the wine, the warmth of women who’ve become something closer than friends—makes honesty feel safe.
“Someone warm.” The admission feels like peeling back armor.
“Passionate. The kind of man who felt things openly and wasn’t afraid to show it.
I spent my childhood surrounded by political calculation and careful diplomacy, everyone wearing masks, no one saying what they really meant.
I wanted someone who would sweep me off my feet and make me feel like the most important person in the world.
Someone whose love would be obvious and uncomplicated. ”
“Very romantic,” Aisling says. Her tone is gentle rather than teasing.
“Very naive.” I stare at the ceiling, watching steam curl through the enchanted lights.
“I had suitors at court. Princes and nobles and wealthy merchants’ sons.
All of them performed warmth beautifully.
Brought gifts and wrote poetry and said everything I was supposed to want to hear.
Grand gestures. Public declarations. Flowers and flattery. ”
“But?”
“But I could never trust it. Never knew if they wanted me or my power or my position. The warmth was always calculated, the passion always performed. They’d smile at me and I’d see them cataloguing my value, measuring what I could do for them.
” I take a breath. “So I stopped looking. Decided maybe passion was overrated. Maybe what I actually needed was someone honest. Someone who showed me exactly who they were, even if who they were was cold and guarded and difficult.”
The silence stretches. I become aware of three sets of eyes watching me with varying degrees of amusement and understanding.
“Interesting.” Selene’s voice is far too innocent. “Someone cold and guarded and difficult. Can’t imagine who that might describe.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Auren tested the water temperature several times.” Aisling interrupts, her green eyes gleaming. “For safety.”
“He arranged the cushions,” Nasyra adds. “Personally adjusted them for optimal ergonomic support.”
“He researched massage oils.” Selene delivers the final blow. “And he’s been finding excuses to walk past the Fire-Bringer quarters every evening for the past four days, looking for ‘security vulnerabilities.’ At the exact time you usually return from training.”
My face is burning, and it has nothing to do with the hot springs.
“He’s my trainer. My assigned protector. He’s responsible for—”
“Tamsin.” Nasyra’s voice cuts through my deflection.
“I’ve known Auren for almost five centuries, through Zyphon.
In all that time, I’ve never seen him test bath water for anyone.
I’ve never seen him research oils. I’ve never seen him find reasons to walk past someone’s quarters.
” She pauses meaningfully. “Whatever you think is happening between you—it’s not one-sided. ”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to process the flutter in my chest, the warmth that spreads through me at the thought of Auren—cold, controlled, impossibly precise Auren—checking water temperature because he wanted me to be comfortable.
“He’s not what I imagined.” The words come out quiet. Honest. “He’s nothing like the warm, passionate man I used to dream about. He’s ice and calculation and walls so high, I can barely see over them.”
“But?” Selene prompts.
I think about the rampart. The way his voice cracked when he spoke about Lyric. The way he caught me—both times—as if letting me fall wasn’t an option his body would consider. The way he looked at me in the starlight, telling me things he’d never told anyone.
“But he’s honest.” I meet their eyes one by one, letting them see the truth I’m only now admitting to myself.
“He showed me exactly who he was from the beginning. Didn’t pretend to like me.
Didn’t perform warmth he didn’t feel. And underneath all that ice.
..” I trail off, searching for words. “There’s fire.
Banked so deep, he’s forgotten it’s there. But it’s there. I’ve seen it.”
“And you want to find it.” Nasyra’s voice is soft with understanding.
“I think I already have.” The admission feels monumental. Terrifying. True. “He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.”
Selene raises her glass. “To unexpected men. May they continue to confound us in the best possible ways.”
We drink. And I let myself imagine it—a future where Auren’s ice melts enough to let me in. Where the fire I’ve glimpsed beneath his frost becomes something we share rather than something he hides.
It seems impossible. But then, so did everything else that’s happened since I fled Valdoria.
We stay until our fingers prune and the last of the wine is gone.
The conversation drifts to lighter topics—Rurik’s disaster with a noble’s toupee at a formal dinner, Drayke’s ongoing war against a specific bird that insists on nesting outside his window at dawn, Zyphon’s inexplicable talent for flower arrangement that he refuses to acknowledge exists.
“He made Nasyra a beautiful bouquet,” Selene whispers conspiratorially. “Beautiful work. Threatened to murder anyone who mentioned it.”
“He’s very sensitive about his artistic side.” Nasyra’s smile is wicked. “I told him it was attractive. He didn’t speak to me for hours.”
By the time we finish all the food and drink, I feel different. Lighter. Like some burden I didn’t know I was carrying has been lifted, at least for a few hours.
“We should do this regularly.” Aisling stretches, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
“Weekly.” Selene nods firmly. “Non-negotiable. The boys can handle one evening without us.”
We make our way back through the corridors, parting with hugs and promises. I return to my room feeling warm and content and more at peace than I have since before everything fell apart.
These women—stubborn Aisling, fierce Selene, wise Nasyra—have become something I didn’t expect to find. Sisters. Not by blood, but by choice.
Better than blood. Morrigan taught me that.
Which is, of course, when her message arrives.
The sphere of shadow appears at my window the moment I close my door—a small, pulsing darkness that makes my skin crawl with recognition. Her magical signature. Her blood calling to mine. Keyed to find me specifically, waiting until I was alone.
I should get the others. Should alert Auren that she’s breached the wards.
Instead, I reach out and touch it.
“Hello, little sister.” Morrigan’s voice fills my head, intimate and invasive. “I know you’re hiding behind the dragons. Playing house with your new friends. Did you enjoy your little spa day? Very touching.”
She’s watching. Despite everything, somehow she’s watching.
“Come to me willingly. Bring the Crown. Submit to what’s rightfully mine, and I’ll make it quick.” The false sweetness drops, revealing cold calculation beneath. “Make me hunt you, and I’ll start with them. The women you’ve started calling sisters. The ice dragon who can’t stop watching you.”
My fire surges, white-hot, responding to the threat against people I’ve started to love.
“I’ll take them one by one, little sister. Make you watch while I drain everything they are. And when you’re finally alone—when everyone who thought they could keep you safe is ash—then I’ll come for you.” Her laugh echoes through my skull.
The sphere dissolves. The magic fades. And I’m left standing in my room with fire blazing around my hands, the peace of the evening shattered.
She wants me afraid. Wants me to see caring as weakness, the bonds I’m building as vulnerabilities to exploit.
I think about what I learned tonight. Aisling finding happiness with the opposite of her careful plans. Selene discovering that refinement mattered less than being truly seen. Nasyra learning that light can exist even in shadows.
Morrigan thinks love makes us weak. She’s wrong.
In the morning, I’ll tell the others about the message. We’ll prepare for whatever she throws at us.
But tonight, I hold onto what I discovered in the hot springs. About the women who’ve become my sisters. About the ice dragon who arranged cushions for my comfort.
About the truth I’m finally ready to admit: I want that fire beneath his frost. I want to be the one who helps him thaw.
And I’m not going to let my sister’s threats stop me from reaching for it.