CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A voice dragged me back. Distant at first. Muffled. Like I was surfacing through leagues of dark, heavy water.
“Ava!”
My body jolted violently as I sucked in air, my lungs burning as if they’d forgotten how to function.
Orange eyes met mine. Ezra.
He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, one hand braced hard against my shoulder as if he’d been holding me down to keep me from thrashing.
His auburn hair was a mess, his expression wild, not cocky or amused, but genuinely terrified. His freckles stood out starkly against his pallor.
On my other side, Ember leaned over me, her green eyes wide with panic.
Luna paced behind her in restless, flaming circles, her paws clicking on the stone.
Aether was pressed tight against my ribs, his massive body rigid with tension, fear humming through the bond.
Reality slammed into me. And then, the pain followed.
It hit so suddenly I screamed, the sound tearing raw from my throat. My hands flew to my stomach as a violent cramp ripped through my abdomen, deep and searing, like something inside me was being twisted apart by hot iron.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ezra demanded, his voice cracking as he looked between us.
“Move!” Ember snapped instantly, shoving him back with a strength born of pure adrenaline.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed, grabbing my face between her hands, her thumbs brushing my cheeks.
“Ava. Breathe. You need to breathe for me. Right now.”
I couldn’t.
The pain was an ocean, and I was drowning. It pulsed and clawed through my gut, stealing the air before it could reach my chest. I rolled onto my side, curling into a fetal position as hot, frustrated tears pricked my eyes.
“Little cub, breathe!” Aether’s voice cracked through the bond, sharp with command and laced with a fear I’d never felt from him.
But all I could see was the blood. Asher on his knees. The sword in my hand.
“Fuck,” Ember muttered under her breath, her eyes darting over my shaking form. “She’s having a flare.”
“A flare?” Ezra echoed, looking completely lost.
“Yes. No time to explain.” She shot him a furious, urgent look. “Run her a bath. Hot as she can stand it. Now!”
I blinked up at him through the haze of agony.
His eyes were still wide with a panic he couldn't hide.
“Go!” Ember shrieked.
He didn’t argue. For once in his life, Ezra Valeor didn’t make a joke. He didn't roll his eyes or push back with a smug comment. He just turned and bolted for the bathroom. The sound of water thundering into the tub followed seconds later.
“Bring a damp cloth!” Ember shouted after him. She pushed my sweat-slick hair off my forehead, her touch careful and gentle.
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe through the heat, Ava.”
I managed a weak nod, but another wave of agony rolled through me, and my teeth clenched hard enough to ache.
Ezra came rushing back, his face set in grim lines as he handed Ember the cloth. She pressed it against my burning skin, the cool shock of it making me gasp.
Then he disappeared again, his boots heavy on the floor. “The bath’s ready!” he called out.
“Can you walk?” Ember whispered urgently, her hand steadying my arm. Aether nudged my shoulder, his concern blazing through the bond like a forest fire.
I tried to sit up, but the movement made the pain explode. A broken, pathetic sound tore out of me as I shook my head violently, collapsing back into the pillows.
“Okay, okay,” Ember said quickly, her voice tight. “No walking.” She looked toward the door. “Ezra! We need to get her in the bath. Now. Please—take her.”
My vision was starting to tunnel, the edges of the room turning grey and fuzzy. I knew that feeling. I was going to pass out if I didn't get under the water soon.
Ezra didn’t hesitate. He was at the bedside in a heartbeat, sliding one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, but his grip was careful—protective in a way that startled me even through the white noise of the pain.
He carried me into the bathroom, his jaw tight as he lowered me gently into the steaming water.
I was still in yesterday’s sports bra and yoga pants, but I didn't care.
The moment the heat wrapped around my body, the iron grip in my stomach began to unclench.
My fingers gripped the edges of the porcelain as I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting.
Waiting for the fire in my blood to settle. Waiting for my body to remember how to be mine again, without the bond to anchor it.
Hot water always helped. It was the great irony of my life: fire lived inside me, but only the water could keep it from burning me alive.
Eventually, the flare began to recede.
The pain didn’t vanish all at once; it never did. It loosened slowly, reluctantly, like serrated claws releasing their grip from deep inside my abdomen.
The scalding water wrapped around me, the heat soaking into muscle and bone, dulling the worst of the jagged edges until they were just a dull, throbbing ache.
I finally forced my eyes open.
Ember was leaning against the edge of the tub, her head tipped back against the cool marble.
Her eyes were half-closed, her face pale, as if she’d been holding herself together by sheer force of will while I screamed.
Aether sat beside the bath, massive and still as a mountain. His golden gaze was locked onto me with an intensity that made my chest ache with a sudden, sharp surge of gratitude.
On the other side, Ezra sat at the far end of the tub, perched on the edge like he didn't quite trust himself to be any closer.
His elbows rested on his thighs, his hands clasped tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
“I’m okay,” I whispered hoarsely.
My voice barely sounded like mine—it was a wrecked, hollow thing.
Ember’s eyes snapped open.
She immediately grabbed my hand, squeezing it so hard I could feel the tremor in her fingers.
“Thank fuck,” she breathed, relief flooding her face as a shaky smile finally broke through.
“That one was bad, Ava. Really bad.”
“I know.” My gaze dropped to the rippling water, the surface shimmering with the heat. “I had a dream. A nightmare. I think it… it triggered the flare.”
Ember nodded slowly, her expression darkening with a shadow of memory.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You haven’t had one like that since—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Jax.
His absence hung between us like a ghost neither of us dared to name out loud.
The silence settled heavily in the bathroom, thick and suffocating.
Until—
“So.” Ezra’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
Both mine and Ember’s heads snapped toward him.
He straightened, his arms spreading slightly in a gesture of pure, unadulterated disbelief.
Frustration warred with the lingering traces of fear on his face.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” he demanded.
The sheer bluntness of it—the way he looked so genuinely offended by the lack of information—cracked something inside me. I looked at Ember.
She looked at me. And then, we both started laughing.
It wasn’t a graceful sound. It wasn’t pretty, and it probably wasn't even fully sane.
It was just exhausted, breathless laughter born from adrenaline, relief, and the sheer absurdity of Ezra Valeor sitting at the foot of a bathtub demanding answers like a disgruntled king.
Ezra did not laugh.
He slowly crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flat and unimpressed. “Explain,” he said.
I sucked in a shaky breath and nodded, wiping a stray tear of laughter from my eye.
“I will,” I promised, though my limbs suddenly felt like they were made of wet sand.
Every flare left me hollowed out like this, a shell waiting to be filled.
“But first,” I added, glancing down at my soaked, heavy clothes,
“I would really like to change into a robe… and have a latte.”
For a heartbeat, Ezra just stared at me, his eyes searching mine for any lingering pain.
Then, he stood up, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders.
He gave me that signature, shit-eating grin, his dimples cutting deep.
“On it, Hotshot.”
···
As soon as Ezra left, Ember helped me out of the bath.
My legs were still shaky, my body feeling heavy and foreign, but she stayed steady beside me until I was standing. She squeezed my shoulder once, a silent gesture of solidarity, before stepping toward the door.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” she said softly.
Then she slipped out, the click of the door echoing in the quiet room.
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint drip of water from the tub and the distant, rhythmic hum of Academy magic vibrating through the stone walls.
And Aether. He hadn’t moved. He sat near the vanity, massive and silent, watching me with those ancient golden eyes that seemed to see straight through my skin.
I peeled off my soaked clothes slowly, every movement deliberate and exhausting.
My skin still prickled—a lingering ghost of the flare, the dream, and the memory of a pain that hadn't quite left my bones.
I grabbed a thick robe and pulled it tightly around myself, knotting the sash like it was the only piece of armor I had left.
Then, I looked up.
The mirror did not show a queen.
It showed swollen, bloodshot eyes and damp hair clinging to flushed, blotchy skin.
It showed a girl who looked like she had been dragged through the heart of a furnace and barely survived.
I closed my eyes, but the darkness was worse. All I saw was the sword. The wooden handle.
Dark vines curling around the grip like something parasitic.
Ancient. Wrong. A blade I had never seen before, yet my hands remembered the weight of it.
When I opened my eyes, my fingers were trembling.
I leaned forward, bracing my palms against the cold marble counter, my breath coming in uneven stutters.
For a long moment, I just stared at my reflection, trying to find the girl who had stood on that pitch.
Then my gaze shifted, meeting Aether’s through the glass.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry you have to deal with a weak wielder.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them, hot and relentless.