Chapter 29 #2
“Wasn’t a compliment.”
He sits down at the edge of the bed, close enough that the heat from his body cuts through the morning chill. “You’re healing well, but let’s not test it. Take it slow today. With any luck, you’ll be fully mended by tomorrow.”
I glance toward the pool, where starlight still glimmers faintly across the surface. He follows my gaze.
“The waters will help,” he murmurs. “Spend some time in them today.”
I hesitate, then nod. My eyes drift toward the heavy black door behind him, its frame carved with vines that seem almost alive. “It isn’t locked, is it?”
One of his brows lifts, and the corner of his mouth curves. “Do you want it to be?”
I narrow my eyes. “I’d just like to know if I’m free to leave, or if this is another ‘gilded cage’ situation.”
He exhales, half-amused, half-resigned. “You’re not my prisoner, Fire. You can go wherever you please. Though if you do, I’ll have Arther stationed outside your door to accompany you.”
My stomach twists. “A guard? Really? I don’t need a bodyguard.”
He smirks, rising to his full height. “No. But you do seem to need supervision.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already moving toward the door.
Before he leaves, he glances back, his expression unreadable. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my study. Ask Arther; he’ll show you the way.”
The door closes behind him.
I sit there for a long moment, the echo of his words settling in my chest. Then I gingerly reach for the bandages.
The linen peels away with a soft tug, and the air bites cool against my skin.
The wound has closed, but the flesh around it is still puffy and dark.
A raised scar curls along my ribs like the mark of something ancient.
I trace its edges lightly, wincing. It’s warm to the touch. For a heartbeat, I swear I feel it pulse.
The memory of the dragon flashes through my mind—the gold veins, the heat beneath my palm, the roar that wasn’t just sound but something inside me breaking open. I shake the thought away and rise carefully from the bed, letting the blanket slip from my shoulders.
The pool ripples as I approach, reflecting the fractured light of morning.
I ease into the water, gasping as its warmth wraps around me.
It feels alive, like hands smoothing over every ache, coaxing away pain I hadn’t realized I still carried.
My muscles unwind. My heartbeat steadies.
And only then do I truly see where I am.
The chamber stretches, vast and cavernous, carved directly into the mountain’s heart, as if the stone itself has been hollowed out—in reverence rather than conquest. The ceiling arches high above, ribs of rock veined with faint mineral shimmer, catching the fractured morning light that pours in from a wide, cave-like opening along one wall.
Beyond it, a sheer drop and a broad landing platform wait, large enough for wings, for fire, for something far greater than a man.
The pool I’m submerged in dominates the room’s center, fed by unseen springs, its surface breathing softly, as if the water itself is alive. Steam curls upward, blurring the edges of the chamber, lending everything a dreamlike haze.
To one side, a massive four-poster bed stands on a raised stone dais, draped in dark linens that look rarely disturbed yet carefully kept.
Opposite it, a hearth burns low and constant, its flames reflected in polished stone and metal alike, warmth radiating through the space like a second heartbeat.
There’s order here—but not excess. A broad desk carved from a single slab of obsidian rests near the fire, scattered with maps, scrolls, and half-burned candles.
Shelves line the rock wall beside it, holding a small but well-worn library—histories, spellcraft, languages I don’t recognize. Books meant to be used, not displayed.
Beyond the steam, I glimpse a washroom carved seamlessly into the stone, water channels etched into the floor like ancient runes. And farther still, half-hidden in shadow, a narrow doorway disappears directly into the mountain itself—no frame, no markings. Just darkness, waiting.
This is not a bedroom.
It’s a cave. A war room. A lair.
When I emerge, the ache is softer, bearable. I dry off and dress in the simple black tunic and trousers left folded near the hearth. The fabric smells faintly of smoke and herbs. I braid my hair, twisting the damp strands away from my face.
For the first time in days, I feel almost like myself again. Almost.
When I step outside, Arther straightens.
We exchange nods, and I set off. Like a shadow, he follows a few paces behind me in utter silence.
The corridor outside the king’s chambers hums faintly with enchantments woven into the stone.
My bare feet whisper across the polished floor as I make my way toward the east wing.
Mariel’s laughter carries faintly through the hall, greeting me before I even reach her door. The sound tugs something loose in my chest, a thread of relief I didn’t know I was holding.
I knock softly.
“Come in!”
Mariel sits propped against a pile of pillows, a book open in her lap. Vivian lounges near the window, her red hair unbraided and glowing in the filtered light. Cassy is curled beside her, eyes heavy as she nibbles at a piece of sweetbread. All three look pale and breakable—but alive.
Arther softly shuts the door behind me, waiting just outside.
Cassy looks up, and before I can get in a single word, she’s in my arms, trembling.
I hold her tight. Deep down, I know even this fragile peace can never last. Not here. Not with what’s coming.
When Cassy finally pulls back, I hand her the rose Keiren plucked from the garden. She doesn’t react, but it’s better than an outburst.
Mariel studies me closely. “Mae said you were nearly gone when they pulled you from the room. The poison—”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Mostly.”
Vivian’s gaze sharpens. “‘Fine’ doesn’t look like scars on your side. And ‘fine’ certainly doesn’t sleep in the king’s chambers.”
I blink. “How—”
“Everyone knows,” Mariel cuts in, though her tone is more teasing than accusing.
“Apparently,” Vivian adds dryly, “when the king himself whisks you away after murdering two would-be assassins on your behalf, people notice.”
My cheeks heat. I remember how carefully he carried me that night—how he held me until the poison was gone. “It wasn’t like that. He was just helping me.”
“Mmhmm,” Vivian hums, unconvinced. “If that’s what we’re calling it.”
“Oh, leave her be,” Mariel says, dog-earing her page, snapping her book shut, and stretching. “I’m just glad one of us is getting a little attention. Gods know I miss the embrace of a good man.”
Vivian smirks. “Try aiming for one that isn’t cursed next time.”
Before I can retort, Vivian’s tone turns serious. “They say the attack wasn’t random.”
My chest tightens. “What do you mean?”
Mariel sets her book aside. “Word’s spreading through the keep. Someone ordered the assassin’s mark. That blade was meant for you.”
Vivian crosses her arms. “The king’s court is crawling with snakes. If I were you, I’d start watching the ones who smile too much.”
“You think one of the brides…?”
“Or someone in his council,” Mariel finishes grimly. “Someone powerful enough to breach the wards on our rooms.”
“Or someone immortal,” Vivian adds darkly. “Mae said the wards on our rooms were woven by the Bound Four themselves. If they were broken…”
My pulse stutters. “Maybe one of them did it,” I finish.
The door creaks open before I can respond. Mae steps in, her golden hair braided with silver thread, her expression cool but kind. Cassian follows behind her, smirking like he owns the room. Speak of the devil.
“Good morning, my radiant disasters,” Cassian drawls, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “You’re all looking remarkably less corpse-like today.”
Mariel groans. “Go bother someone else, Cassian.”
He flashes her a grin, and I mentally note the absence of his twin—the most likely suspect, in my mind.
“Now, why would I do that when the most interesting rumor in the realm happens to be sitting right here?” His gaze flicks to me. “Tell me, Fire, how was your night in the king’s bed? Warm, I imagine.”
Vivian snorts into her cup. Cassy only stares between us.
I fix him with my best glare. “Would you like to find out how warm it feels to drown in the pool outside?”
Mae sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Cassian, stop provoking her.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m only trying to lighten the mood. The king’s been prowling about like a caged beast ever since the attack. Seraphina’s already declared she’ll challenge our southern flame here once the Trials resume.”
Mariel’s eyes widen. “She said that?”
“Oh yes.” Cassian leans lazily against the doorframe. “Loudly. Something about how ‘favoritism won’t save her from fate.’ You should’ve seen her face when the king ignored her in the throne room. She marched in, demanding an audience, and he sent me to escort her out. I think I deserve a medal.”
You deserve a swift kick in the arse, I think.
“Enough,” Mae cuts in sharply. “Cassian, it’s time for us to go.
The king’s orders are clear. All of you are to rest until further notice.
The next Trial will not begin until the wards are restored.
” She gives me a long, meaningful look before turning to leave.
“And you, my dear Fire… Try not to make more work for me today.”
Cassian winks as he follows her out. “That’s right. Sweet dreams, Sunshine. Tell the king I said he’s welcome to try the trick I taught him.”
I throw a pillow at his head. He catches it easily and tosses it onto the chaise lounge with a mischievous laugh as the door closes behind them, and the room falls quiet again.
Mariel sighs. “He’s impossible.”
“Infuriating,” Vivian agrees, though a reluctant smile tugs at her lips.
I manage a tired laugh. “He’s lucky Mae keeps him around.”
After another hour of quiet conversation, my exhaustion finally catches up to me. I make my way toward the gardens, drawn by the promise of fresh air and silence.
The paths are warm beneath my feet, the scent of roses clinging to the breeze. I find a bench tucked between flowering vines and sink onto it, tilting my face toward the light.
For the first time since the last Trial, the world feels still.
I don’t remember falling asleep, only the faint scent of smoke and cedar and the sensation of strong arms lifting me from the bench as carefully as though I might shatter.
Keiren.
Even half-asleep, I know the steadying rhythm of his heartbeat. He carries me back to his quarters, his breath warm at my temple. And somewhere between waking and dreaming, I think I hear him whisper, “Rest now, Fire. I’ve got you.”