Chapter 10
Andrew felt at peace after the ritual.
Of course having had sex after so long was a part of that, having finally killed the silent ache he’d had for so long.
But it was also because everything inside Andrew had calmed down. The intensity, the pressure, the overwhelming weight of the moment; it had all burned through him.
What was now left behind was a strange mix of exhaustion and energy. He barely registered the walk as he was led away moments later.
Who was that girl? What was her name?
Her face, filled with ecstasy, flashed through his mind. She had been so beautiful, so tender… Yet he knew nothing about her.
As the heat and excitement of the moment has faded, and his feeling were now more grounded, that didn’t sit right with him.
Before long, he found himself back at the baths. The same stone beneath his feet. The same rising steam. The same soft glow of crystals embedded in the rock.
Two women, different from Esna and Magda, guided him into the water. They washed him thoroughly, just as before, their touch steady and routine. This time, he didn’t tense. He didn’t question it. He simply let it happen.
The warmth of the water seeped into him, easing the lingering tension in his muscles, grounding him back in physical reality after everything in the temple had felt so surreal.
As they worked, his eyes drifted around the space.
Ayla wasn’t there.
A small, unexpected disappointment settled in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he had been hoping to see her.
The women finished, and he stepped out, drying himself in silence. No one spoke.
Soon after, he was escorted away by a few higher sisters he didn’t know. But as he rose out of the rock formation in the large woven basket, Trina was waiting.
Seeing her, made him feel better. She didn’t say anything as she took over from the other sister, but as their eyes met, he caught a trace of a smile.
He remembered her words, the moment they’d had before the ritual, and he was overwhelmed by a sudden energy. The way she had felt honored, how she had wanted to be with him.
He moved through the city with that new awareness. The exhaustion was still there, but underneath it, something else had now taken root. A quiet confidence. A sense of purpose, maybe? Or something close to it.
Trina led the way, as always.
Feeling a spark of confidence, he picked up the pace to walk closer to her. “So,” he said, “how did I do?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Fine,” she said.
“Just fine?”
Trina kept her eyes forward this time. “Very fine.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She kept silent. It seemed like that moment they’d had in the temple was a distant memory.
Andrew would love to learn more about her, but she kept herself so damn uptight. Maybe that intimate instant they’d shared had been just a figment of his imagination?
He wanted to ask her something more, just to try to get a conversation going, but they arrived at that destination.
To his joy, it was Ayla’s house.
And when the door opened, she was there. Relief surged through him.
Ayla stood near the table, turning as he entered. The moment she saw him, her expression softened, a small smile forming.
Trina didn’t say anything, but gave Ayla a simple look. Then she left without even giving Andrew a second look.
Andrew sighed, but decided to let it go for now.
Ayla stepped closer, her smile still there, but there was a distance behind it now. A restraint that hadn’t been there before.
Andrew noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head lightly. “Nothing.”
That wasn’t true. He took a step closer. “Come on,” he said. “Something’s off.”
Ayla hesitated, then looked away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “After tonight,” she said quietly. “You will no longer be staying here.”
Andrew felt his stomach drop.
Fuck.
“Wasn’t it the will of the gods?” he said. “That I stay here.”
Ayla nodded. “You have recovered and performed without any issues during the ritual. You will be moved there tomorrow.”
The words were like a gut punch. “There?” he asked.
“The chambers.”
“But you will still be able to see me?” he asked. “Right?”The question came out more direct than he intended.
Ayla smiled softly again. “If the gods allow it.”
Andrew frowned slightly. “That’s not really an answer.”
Her smile didn’t fade. “It is the best one I can give.”
He let out a quiet breath, not satisfied, but not pushing further either. Instead, he nodded toward the table and decided to change the subject. “You made food?”He cringed at how it blurted out.
“Yes,” she said. “You must be hungry. Please, eat.”
They sat down together.
The meal was warm, familiar in the way last night’s had been, but the atmosphere was different. The easy curiosity, the light exchanges—they were gone now. What remained was heavier.
They ate mostly in silence.
Andrew found himself glancing at her more than once, wanting to say something, to ask something—anything—but not knowing where to start.
There was so much he didn’t know about her. About this place. About everything.
He wanted to ask about her life. What she liked. What she didn’t. What she did during the day, what made her laugh, what made her quiet. Hell, even what her favorite color was.
But what was the point? He was leaving.
Tomorrow, he would be moved somewhere else. Somewhere more important, more central to the role they had chosen for him.
This with Ayla—whatever this was—felt like it was already over before it had even had the chance to get started.
Andrew leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.
It was strange. He realized his body felt different. After everything that had happened with the ritual and all the attention, he felt stronger.
Invincible, almost. It was something under his skin. His spirit? His soul? He didn’t know.
And yet, at the same time… There was a quiet weight sitting in his chest.
He looked at Ayla, who had her eyes on her plate.
For the first time since arriving here, something felt like it was slipping away.
Night came in. Before he knew it, it had turned dark out. His sense of time was all over the place.
The candles had been dimmed, and the crystals cast their soft glow across the wooden walls. Outside, the distant rhythm of drums and faint singing carried through the trees, blending into the warm night air in a way that felt hypnotic.
Andrew lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint music in the distance.
One day I want to see who is playing those drums…
Sleep wouldn’t come, so it was one of the random thoughts that popped up in his head.
His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to slow down. The events of the day replayed themselves in fragments—the temple, the ritual, the Queen’s words, the planned move to the chambers.
He exhaled and shifted slightly.
Beside him, Ayla lay still. She was close enough that he could feel her warmth, but their bodies weren’t touching.
That small distance between them felt louder than anything else in the room. He became aware of every detail: the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the faint scent of her skin, the presence of her being just within reach.
So close, and yet so far.
His eyes drifted toward her. She wasn’t asleep. He could tell.
Andrew hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached out. His fingertips brushed lightly against her hip, the warmth of her skin immediate. He let them rest there briefly before moving just slightly, tracing a small, uncertain line across her side.
Ayla’s breath changed. Not dramatically, but enough for him to notice his touch affected her.
He wanted to be closer, to close the gap between them, to feel more than just that fleeting contact.
He shifted toward her.
“Don’t,” she said, softly but unsteady.
Her voice stopped him. There was something in it he hadn’t heard before:
something that made him freeze. “Sorry,” he said quietly, pulling his hand back.
Ayla didn’t move away. “It’s okay,” she said after a moment. But it didn’t sound like it was.
Andrew stared back up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly through his nose. He looked at her again. “You alright?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
He swallowed, then spoke again, more quietly this time. “I hope I can still see you,” he said. “After tomorrow. When I move to the chambers.”
For a moment, he thought she might not respond at all. Then her voice came. “The Queen has forbidden it.”
Andrew turned his head toward her again. “What?”
Ayla shifted slightly, still facing away from him. “Us being together intimately. I am not one of the selected ones,” she said. “I am not allowed to be with you.”
Andrew let out a quiet breath, frustration rising in his body. “Of course she did,” he muttered.
The Queen, her rules, her control over everything.
“That’s messed up,” he added under his breath.
Ayla didn’t respond at first, then said: “It’s the will of the gods.”
His frustration overboiled by those words. “No—It’s the will of the Queen.”
Ayla stayed silent.
Andrew hesitated, then spoke more carefully. “I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on right now. It’s a bit too much.”
She remained silent, but after a few seconds, she placed her hand on his arm.
He relaxed, happy to receive a sign of affection back. It filled him with comfort.
They stayed like that for a few moments. Then, Andrew decided to ask. “Can I at least hold you?”
There was a brief pause.
Then, quietly, “Yes.”
That was all he needed.
Andrew turned toward her, closing the distance between them. His arm moved around her, pulling her gently closer. She didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her body fitting naturally against his.
Warm. Soft.
He rested his hand lightly against her side, careful not to push further, simply holding her.
Ayla relaxed gradually, her breathing evening out again as she settled against him, her head near his chest.
Andrew closed his eyes.
Her scent filled his senses. Everything else faded into the background, at least for now.
For the first time in a while, his mind began to quiet.
And eventually, he fell asleep.