Chapter 40 #3
She twisted at the waist, her eyes finding his over her shoulder. The water rippled with her movement. His hands hovered above her skin, waiting. A question passed between them without words. Her chin dipped once in silent permission.
Rell poured a generous amount of soap into his palm and worked it through her hair, his fingers gently working their way through her scalp.
The lather turned gray-pink as it lifted away the last traces of blood.
Rell rinsed his hands in the water before cupping them to pour clean water over her head, washing away the suds in steady streams.
“It didn’t feel like I thought it would,” Elora said quietly, her voice barely audible over the splash of water.
Rell moved around to the side of the tub, crouching so they were at eye level. He brushed his thumb along her chin, and she lifted her gaze to meet his, her golden eyes clear and steady despite everything she was holding back.
“I figured it wouldn’t,” he said, dipping the cloth in clean water. He dabbed at her face, wiping away the crusted blood from her cheeks, her jaw, the corners of her mouth. The last traces of Gerard’s blood came away easily now, revealing her pale skin beneath.
“I thought I’d feel lighter,” she said finally.
“And I do, but I don’t at the same time.
” She traced a finger through the murky water, creating ripples that distorted her reflection.
“His death feels... empty. Like it should’ve been more.
But there’s also this weight gone, knowing he can’t hurt anyone else. ”
He handed her the cloth, their fingers brushing under the water. Her words resonated deep in his gut, stirring memories he usually kept buried. “I know that empty feeling,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t give you what you think it will.”
Elora took the cloth, wringing water from it before dabbing at the blood on her legs.
Rell’s throat tightened. Finding her in that tower had gutted him.
She should have been here, away from danger.
The realization that she’d confronted Gerard alone—that monster—sent tremors through his body that he couldn’t control.
He’d spent so many years searching for her after the Snatchers took her, and in that instant, seeing her blood-soaked in that chamber, he imagined the possibility of losing her all over again. That she could just disappear.
His voice caught, rough with the question he’d been holding back. “You’re still going to face Thorn, aren’t you?”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on the rippling water.
“I keep wondering if it will feel different. If something will finally click into place.” Her fingers curled into a fist beneath the surface.
“Florence wants to destroy what he stands for, and I’ll admit her intentions are noble.
But when I think of Tehvan’s face, of my classmates screaming, of what Symond suffered...
” She looked up, meeting his gaze with unflinching clarity.
“I can’t wait years for justice. Not after everything he took from us. From me.”
Words died on his tongue. The need to keep her safe warred with his deeper knowledge—that caging her choices would make him no better than those who had imprisoned her before.
Her fingers found his where they gripped the tub’s edge, his knuckles bleached with tension. When he looked up, her eyes were already on him, had been for some time. They held the quiet understanding of someone reading between his carefully chosen silences.
“I won’t promise to stay out of danger,” she said, and the careful fortress of his composure threatened to crumble.
Her eyes fixed on the ring as she rotated it between thumb and forefinger, watching light catch on its golden curve. The tension in her face softened, replaced by the quiet certainty that follows the end of an internal argument. “But I don’t want you guessing where I am.”
She held the ring out between them. “This isn’t just Tehvan’s ring anymore,” she said. “It’s been altered. It doesn’t track my heartbeat now. When I shift, it... pulls. Like a compass. It’s how Gerard found me. And how he could’ve found anyone close.”
She extended her hand, the ring resting in her palm. An offering. “I need you to take it.”
A knot formed in Rell’s throat. The implication was clear—she trusted him with this, with the very thing that could track her most vulnerable moments. He hesitated, fingers hovering above her open palm.
“Are you sure?” he asked, searching her face.
She nodded. “I can’t destroy it. Not yet.”
Rell slid the band onto his finger. The metal was cool and plain, belying the weight of what she’d just entrusted to him.
Elora watched him for a moment, then planted her hands on the edge of the tub and rose.
The water broke around her rising form, cascading down her skin in sheets that carried the last pink traces of violence with them.
She reached for the towel, wrapping it around herself with steady hands.
When she straightened, there was nothing left clinging to her but heat and breath.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly.