Chapter 18

The sleep Nico demanded I chase never came close enough. I tossed and turned on the soft mattress, unable to adjust to the plush support. It was comfortable—too comfortable. After sleeping on the floor for two months, I'd forgotten what it was like to be embraced with warmth and quiet. The rare sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains wasn't exactly helping.

But I was used to sleepless nights by now. Rolling off the side of the bed, I found the bag of clothes in a locker by the bathroom door Nico had mentioned and grabbed an outfit that covered every inch of my skin. A pair of fitted trousers, a long-sleeved linen shirt, and a quilted vest to throw over it. I tossed a pair of leather boots, gloves, and a thick coat to the side if I felt like leaving the room later.

A flash of red caught my eye as the silky interior of the coat caught the kerosine light be the bed. A painful tightness squeezed around my heart, catching my breath. The color was just a shade of crimson to anyone else, but to me, it was a reminder that I had something before Hightower. Those memories were a part of me more than anything I experienced in the prison. I had something good, and I could have it again.

This skin had far more scars, but I was still the same underneath.

The bathroom was simple. A small shower stall with a toilet and sink. It was the first time I'd seen my reflection in months, as there were no mirrors in my cell, and I didn't know who stared back at me, this sickly version of myself.

My skin was sunken around my eyes, appearing bruised in the low light. Some of my hair had fallen out, and what was left was long, stringy waves that had lost their former luster. But the most obvious change was the shape of my body, which was once composed of dramatic curves and soft edges. Now, my breasts were flat, my stomach concave, even the fat filling my collarbones had disappeared, leaving all my bony prominences protruding.

Some of the bloody ink the alchemists used for the last trial had dried and flaked away, leaving thick burns in the shape of their symbols across my skin. I pressed a cool rag against the angry flesh on my shoulder, wincing at the sting. There were so many burns, I gave up trying to tend to them and left it for a haelen to heal later.

They would scar, but I'd let them. There was no forgetting what happened. No point erasing the evidence when it was already seared into my heart.

I turned from the mirror and dressed quickly, trying to forget my image. It was just a body.

Just a body.

I'd go back to the Attano residence and Nonna would fill me out in no time. There were more important things to worry about. People were dying—had died—for me to walk free from my captors. It seemed frivolous to be upset about something like a body. At least I still had the breath in my chest, the beat of my heart. Some weren't so fortunate to say that.

A knock sounded from the bedroom, followed by the slow creak of an opening door. Nico announced himself, mentioning he had guests.

"I'm in here!" I called to him.

"May I come in?" he asked through the crack of the bathroom door.

I sighed at the hairbrush in my hands. Now that I knew what I looked like, my knee-jerk reaction was to hide from the man who had once worshipped my appearance. How he still looked at me the way he did—like I hadn't changed at all—settled some nerves in my chest. "Of course."

He slipped inside, filling the space with his towering frame. With two fingers, he tipped my chin to look up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you lie to me."

"Why would you think something's wrong?"

He frowned. "I can tell when you've been crying." As if to make a point, he skimmed a patch of skin over my cheek, still cradling my chin. A cold tear smoothed out beneath his touch—one I hadn't realized I'd shed.

"It's not a big deal, really. I just... I saw myself for the first time and it was a bit startling."

His sigh made me feel like such a disappointment. The hand beneath my chin dipped down my neck, caressed the line of my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

I gave him a small nod, gaze falling to his chest. "It's ridiculous, being upset about it. I'm alive and free, and I should be grateful. Yet all I see is what they did to me."

A silence stretched between us, though his hand continued to stroke the unburned places of my skin. How he remembered where those were, I didn't know. My clothes now covered all signs of injury. "Do you know what I see when I look at you now?"

"If you say something about beauty, I'll call bullshit."

He laughed, and the sound was a balm to my grief. A finger traced my collarbone, sending shivers across my skin. "In the hollow places, the body mass you've lost when they deprived you of food, I see where your tenacity filled you with willpower. Every scar discoloring your skin was a battle fought and won, and a reminder of each time you called on your strength to fight back, to live."

A metallic hand wrapped around my thin waist, pulling me flush against his hips. "Your laugh is a song of victory, proving you faced their worst and not only survived, but came out with joy still in your heart. And that fucking smile, not to mention your eyes—the light still shining in your eyes—they are beacons to me, guiding me to my true home as they have since the first time I caught a glimpse of them."

I might have wept when his false hand rose and fell down my spine, stroking my insecurities down like he calmed a flame. "This body might feel and look different, Milla, but every change reminds me of how much you fought their cruelty. This body got you through Hightower, and for that reason, I will worship every sign of its resilience."

"You wouldn't if you knew what it was capable of," I murmured. Nico looked at me like I was an altar, but I was the fire from Oblivion, a flame from the deepest hell in the void.

"Is that why you asked Aramis for his glint?"

My eyes widened; he had somehow overheard on our way to the cabin. He offered a soft smile. "The wind is always in my favor, Milla."

"You mean you were eavesdropping."

"My time with your brothers hasn't changed anything. I don't trust them," he said. "If you want to take a few tabs to help you rest, that's fine. But Milla, suppressing your gift will only make it more unmanageable in the end. You can't ignore who you are."

"I'm not ignoring it. I'm just not dealing with it right now." Someone coughed in the bedroom, dragging my attention from the bender. "You mentioned guests?"

"Some friends of yours from the tower."

"Friends?" The word threw me off enough to put a pause on my tears. Wiping my face, I tried to guess at who it could be. I made no friends in that place, only... "Wait, from the tower?"

He cracked open the door and beckoned me through. From the opening, two prisoners still wearing their grey uniforms sat in a pair of armchairs near the wall across from the bed. Their features were identical, with dark skin and eyes nearly black—even in the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.

"Vesper? Callow?" I asked. Their heads swiveled in my direction, the sound of my voice triggering them to stand.

"Milla?" the woman asked. Definitely her. I'd studied their voices for weeks when they were all I had left beyond the darkness of my cell. "Saints, I can't believe you survived the last trial. The guards said..." She shook her head.

"I figured out a way to get by the glint treatment." I crossed my arms as she examined me for the first time. "I see you met the husband I threatened on everyone."

"You did what?" Nico asked.

I smiled and leaned my weight into his side. "I might have thrown your name around to strike some leverage. It didn't work."

"That's why I said your name sounded familiar," Vesper said, looking at Nico.

I cleared my throat to bring her attention back to me. "Did you need something? After abandoning me in the tower, I didn't think I was of any use to you."

"Abandoned you? They claimed they were allies of yours," Nico growled.

I patted his arm to calm the inner beast yanking at his chain.

"Technically, we were neighbors, but they went silent when I told them my secret." My legs ached from standing for a brief time, courtesy of lying on my back for so long. Sitting on the bed, I beckoned for her to speak. "Tell me why you care so much about my remnant."

Vesper explained what she apparently had shared with Nico in the engine room, divulging how she crossed the sea with Callow in search of Chaos. When I mentioned my remnant was of the saint they were searching for, it startled them enough to render them silent, unsure if they could prod without risking giving up their own confidential information.

"You mentioned a name as well," Nico said beside me.

Vesper nodded. "We were told to find Rosa Bianchi, that she could lead us to Chaos."

"Bianchi... As in Sabina Bianchi? That must be a relative of hers. Perhaps she could help—"

"Perhaps she would help herself," he said dryly. "If the Bianchi family knows about Chaos, then Sabina has kept secrets. She'll be the first person we visit when we get back home, but we'll need to be cautious how much we share with her in return for information. A trade of interest is never perfectly balanced."

I nodded in agreement as the conversation went stale between us. It was Callow that broke it first. "Not to sound ungrateful, but is there food on this ship?"

"You can look in the barracks, but I doubt the last crew left anything. The train is waiting at the docks, where we have food and water and whiskey for everyone. The family haelen will also be available in a medical car to see to any injuries. Until then, you'll have to endure." Nico walked lazily toward the cabin door as if in hopes the pair would get the hint to leave. "It won't be more than a few hours. The steam ship can travel twice as fast as a sail ship."

"It would endure the storms as well." Vesper arched a brow.

"It would, if it needed to." He jutted his chin toward the door. "The crew deck is below. There should be a spare bed or two to claim while we travel. Keep our conversation between us, or I'll reconsider finding you a spot on the bottom of the sea floor."

"Come on, V." Callow pinched her shoulder. "I think Mr. Attano would like his wife back."

Vesper stole a glance my way, her cheeks flushing. She eventually nodded and followed her companion out of the cabin. Nico shut the door and locked it, releasing a long sigh that slumped his shoulders.

"You must be exhausted," I said.

He scrubbed his face with a hand and offered a mirthless smile. "The adrenaline is wearing off. I could use a few hours of sleep."

I reached for him, still sitting on the bed. "Come lay with me, husband."

His smile stretched enough to flash dimples in both cheeks. "Why must you say it like that?"

"Because everyone keeps calling me your wife like I don't have a name or a purpose beyond the title."

His hands slid into my outreached palms, connecting with cold metal and warm skin. "You can be called anything you like, Camilla, but your title will never change what you truly are to me."

"And what is that?" I asked.

Bringing both of my hands to his lips, he kissed the spot they overlapped. "Mine."

My heart shuddered inside the cage of my ribs. "Nico, I need to apologize."

"For what?"

He slid onto the mattress, maintaining his touch. I rested beside him on the same pillow. "For not telling you about the marriage license. I told Giles to file it before the Salt Ball. I was worried my brother would try to screw you on our deal. He threatened to wed me to Felix behind your back—"

He gently stroked my forearm. "Milla, I know all of this. You saved my family from certain ruin, probably saved all Lynchaven in the process. But we have one problem with this union of ours."

My brows furrowed together. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, stalling his reply. "A marriage is only legally binding until death deems each party separate again. When you died, it meant we were technically no longer bound. I'm not sure how it will work legally if you come back from the dead."

Disappointment welled in my chest, and I blinked back the burn of tears. "So... I'm technically not your wife anymore."

"Now, when have technicalities ever defined what we mean to each other? Do you want to be mine or not? It's as simple as that."

There was no question about it on my end. I had originally filed our marriage license to protect us both. But now? The time separating us had only deepened everything I felt for him, proved how far I'd fallen. When I was taken, it had followed a night I'd remember for the rest of my life, when we'd spoken words of commitment to each other.

And then those words were tested, leaving us hanging in this newfound place we'd just discovered. An area so new and yet so comfortable, it felt like returning home. I'd meant every word then, and I still meant them now, and I wanted to linger forever with him in this place we found.

His gaze darkened as he waited for my answer. Inside that smoky stare, my fire had found a kindred flame.

I smiled. "I'm yours, Nico."

I didn't sleep,and instead listened to Nico's labored breath as he slept in my arms while we traveled north. The Isle had a single bay that ships once utilized as they came from the Continent when the storms weren't present over the Sea and forbidding passage.

A bang on the chamber door disturbed the quiet.

He startled awake, every muscle in his body went taut at attention, and his free hand reached for the gun he hadn't remembered he'd placed on the table before he crawled into bed. When he realized where he was, he relaxed, cursing under his breath as he scrubbed his tired face with his hand.

"Who the fuck is it?" he groaned.

"Luther. We need you downstairs."

"Why?"

"Take a look outside, lovebirds."

A shadow passed over the windows, cutting off the light that had been fighting to spill between the break in the curtains. Nico, sensing something strange as I did, stood from the bed to peer out the window. A lazy smile stretched across his sleepy face.

"Ahh," he said. "That's why."

"What is it?"

He pulled the curtain aside. When my eyes settled from the glare, I noticed the Iron Saint waited in the distance, steam rising in a cloudy pillar from the chimney.

"Welcome home, Milla."