Chapter 30 Kaia
Kaia
We leave at an ungodly hour.
And by “we leave,” I mean Aspen physically drags me out of a warm pile of blankets while Torric stands in the doorway nodding like a drill sergeant who’s been waiting for this moment his entire life.
“We have to go now,” Aspen says. Calm. Reasonable. Completely unsympathetic to the fact that I got approximately three hours of sleep.
Behind him, Kieran nods solemnly. Agreeing.
I stare at the three of them — the frost twin, the fire twin, and the ancient dragon shifter — standing in a unified front of we’re leaving right this second and you have no say in it.
“When the hell did all three of you start agreeing on anything?” I demand. “Is this a new form of magic? Did you practice this? Is there a secret meeting I wasn’t invited to?”
Nobody answers.
Because they know I’m stalling.
I groan, dragging myself upright. Every muscle in my body aches in ways that are entirely Finn and Malrik’s fault. Good ways. Excellent ways. Ways that make me want to crawl back to that hot spring and refuse to leave for approximately a century.
Instead, I’m stumbling through Japti’s halls at whatever horrible hour this is, trying to remember how my legs work.
Finn falls into step beside me, disgustingly awake. “Morning, Trouble.”
“Don’t.”
“Sleep well?”
“Don’t.”
He grins. That stupid, beautiful, infuriating grin that makes my chest do things it has no business doing at this hour.
Malrik appears on my other side. Says nothing. Just smirks.
I sigh loudly enough to echo off the stone walls.
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Finn says cheerfully.
He’s right. I don’t. That’s the worst part.
Bob drifts alongside me, posture radiating silent judgment. Even my shadows think I’m being dramatic.
The path out of Japti winds upward through tunnels I don’t remember from the way in. Kieran leads, because of course he does. The rest of us follow in a loose cluster that’s less “tactical formation” and more “barely conscious stumbling.”
Behind us: thump… thump… thump…
I turn to look.
Kieran is dragging Callum.
Not carrying. Dragging. On a makeshift sled of bound wood and vines used as rope, padded with—
I squint.
Is that the moss from the hot spring ledge?
It is. It absolutely is. The same soft, green moss that was under my back while Finn—
Nope. Not thinking about that right now.
Definitely not a keepsake anymore, I decide firmly. I don’t want souvenirs that smell like unconscious traitor and male bonding sweat.
Aspen catches me looking and straightens with obvious pride. “The runners distribute weight evenly across uneven terrain. Should hold for the full climb.”
“I carried the frame,” Torric adds, because he can’t let his brother have anything without commentary.
“I supervised,” Darian mutters. The Eds are still clustered around him — dozens of them clinging to his shoulders, drifting in lazy orbits around his head. He’s stopped trying to shake them off. One of them keeps bumping against his ear like an affectionate, shadowy gnat.
Kieran says nothing. Just keeps dragging Callum with the grim determination of a man who refuses to acknowledge he has feelings about any of this.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound follows us up the stairs like a heartbeat.
We emerge from Japti’s entrance into cold, gray dawn.
The mountain rises ahead of us — massive, jagged, wreathed in mist that clings to the peaks like it’s trying to hide something. The path forward is narrow, carved into the stone at an angle that makes my stomach clench just looking at it.
This is going to be a very long week.
“So,” Darian says, clearing his throat. “We should discuss what to expect.”
Nobody responds.
He tries again. “The elevation will increase significantly over the next few days. Temperatures will drop. There are sections where the path narrows to single-file, and several areas with avalanche risk—”
Finn’s shoulder brushes mine.
Accidentally.
I glance at him. He’s looking straight ahead, expression innocent.
His shoulder brushes mine again.
Less accidentally.
Heat pools in my stomach despite the cold air. The bond between us — new, fresh, still settling — pulses with warmth under my skin. I can feel him through it now. His amusement. His want. The way he’s deliberately trying to distract me.
“—and we’ll need to stay alert for loose footing,” Darian continues. “One wrong step on some of these ledges—”
Malrik steps closer behind me. Not touching. Just… there. Close enough that I can feel his heat through my clothes.
I lose track of whatever Darian is saying.
“—the cold at higher elevations can be dangerous if we’re not prepared. Hypothermia sets in faster than most people—”
Aspen is watching me instead of Darian. There’s a knowing glint in his ice-blue eyes that makes me want to throw something at him.
Torric keeps glancing between me and Kieran with an expression that clearly says I know exactly what happened and I’m going to be insufferable about it.
Kieran refuses to make eye contact with anyone. He just keeps dragging Callum with more force than strictly necessary, jaw tight, golden eyes fixed on the path ahead.
“—and the structural integrity of the southern pass has been questionable since the last major—”
“Am I talking to myself?” Darian interrupts himself. “Is anyone actually listening?”
Silence.
A few Eds drift past his head like tumbleweeds.
“No,” Finn admits. “Sorry. Got distracted.”
“By what?”
Finn doesn’t answer. His shoulder brushes mine again.
Darian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wonderful. We’re all going to die because nobody can focus.”
“To be fair,” I say, “you picked a really bad morning for a briefing.”
“There’s no good morning for—” He stops. Processes my words. Looks at me. Looks at Finn. Looks at Malrik, who is still hovering behind me like an anchor with a pulse.
“Ah,” he says flatly. “Right. The hot spring.”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” I say quickly.
“We absolutely need to talk about it,” Torric says.
“We really don’t.”
“Kaia.” Aspen’s voice is mild, but his smirk is devastating. “Everyone knows.”
Great.
I look around at them — at Torric’s raised eyebrow, Aspen’s barely-contained amusement, Darian’s aggressively neutral expression, Kieran’s refusal to acknowledge anyone exists.
Mouse has somehow migrated to Finn’s shoulder. The smug little shadow is practically glowing. Patricia hovers near Darian, notebook flickering — probably documenting everyone’s lack of attention for future reference. Finnick does a lazy loop around my head, and I swat at him.
“I hate all of you,” I repeat.
“Still no you don’t,” Finn says.
We walk.
The path climbs steadily, winding along the mountainside in switchbacks that make my thighs burn. The air gets colder. The mist gets thicker. Behind us, the steady thump-thump-thump of Callum’s sled provides a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic.
I should be paying attention to my surroundings. Watching for danger. Staying alert, like Darian said.
Instead, I’m thinking about last night.
About Finn’s hands. Malrik’s mouth. The way the bond snapped into place like it had been waiting for exactly that moment.
It didn’t confuse anything.
That’s what I keep coming back to. I expected to feel overwhelmed in a bad way — guilty, uncertain, stretched too thin between too many people who want pieces of me I’m not sure I know how to give.
But I don’t feel any of that.
I feel… clarified.
Like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Like the picture was always there, and I’m just now seeing it clearly.
I want all of them.
Not in spite of each other. Not as competition or compromise.
All of them.
And last night — with Finn inside me and Malrik’s hands on both of us and the bond blazing to life between us — that want finally made sense. Finally felt possible.
Finn glances at me, catching my expression. “You’re thinking loud.”
“Shut up.”
“Your face is doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The soft thing. The ‘I’m having feelings’ thing.” He grins. “It’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
“You’re a little cute.”
“I will push you off this mountain.”
“Worth it.”
Malrik’s hand brushes the small of my back. Brief. Grounding. A reminder that he’s here. That he sees me, even when I’m spiraling.
The bond with Finn pulses warm. The older bonds, hum steadily beneath my skin.
I want to keep them safe.
All of them.
Whatever’s waiting for us at the end of this path — Seren, Lira, Alekir, whatever it is — I want to face it with them beside me. With all of them whole and alive and mine.
The ferocity of the feeling catches me off guard.
Bob materializes at my side, edges sharp. Like he felt that surge of protectiveness and approved.
Mine.
When did I start thinking of them like that?
When did it stop feeling like a question?
Kieran stops.
The sudden halt ripples through the group — Aspen nearly walking into Torric, Finn grabbing my arm to keep me from stumbling.
“What?” Torric asks. “What is it?”
Kieran doesn’t answer immediately. His golden eyes are fixed on the path ahead, narrowed against the mist.
Then I feel it.
A rumble. Low. Deep. The kind of sound you feel in your bones more than hear with your ears.
The stone beneath my feet vibrates.
“That normal?” Aspen asks quietly.
Kieran’s jaw tightens.
“…No.”
“Fantastic,” Torric says.
The rumble fades. The mountain settles. But the tension doesn’t leave Kieran’s shoulders, and I see his grip tighten on the rope attached to Callum’s sled.
“We keep moving,” he says. “Stay close. Stay quiet.”
My shadows cluster tight — Bob at point, Patricia and Linda flanking, the Eds swirling in a nervous orbit around Darian. Even Finnick has gone still.
Nobody argues.
We walk.
The mist swallows the path behind us.
And I want the hot spring back.