37

The tub in Veril’s rear garden resembles a giant black cauldron.

“Not a wooden tub?” I ask the old man, shifting from foot to foot, antsy to hop in.

“I like hot baths. Wood doesn’t hold heat as well as…” He knocks on the iron pot.

Over at a firepit, a water boils in a smaller cauldron, ready to be added to the bath if the water cools. Veril pours the contents of the bottle from the wardrobe into the tub. Then he pours in the pot of boiling water and stirs the bath with a wooden oar and…

I wave my hands in the air. “Bubbles!”

“You deserve all the bubbles, Just Kai. And it benefits me to have a goddess using my soap.” Veril holds up the smaller cauldron. “Let me fill this before you settle in.” He trundles to the creek.

Hot water. Nothing is better than hot water… Well, maybe something is better. I scan the area for Jadon, but he’s nowhere in sight. With a sigh, I trace my fingers across the bubbles, imagining the heat against my skin, my skin squeaky clean.

Veril returns and replaces the small cauldron over the firepit. He shouts, “Enjoy,” and heads back to the cottage.

I’m close to tears as I undress and climb into the tub. My whole body—muscles, bones, sinews—groans with relief as I lower myself into the warm, sudsy water. Giggling, I blow foam into the air. I dip my head back into the water, then slide down until my chin sits above the surface. I close my eyes as all my muscles relax and sigh. After a few blissful moments, I sit up and slide the soapy hand towel across my arms and my face and hair and… I want to marry this tub of hot water.

“Kai?” Jadon calls.

I freeze as adrenaline zings through me. “Back here!”

Jadon rounds the cottage, holding a bundle of stuff. “Look what Veril found—” He smiles wide. “Hey! You made it into the tub!”

I laugh and sit up straighter. “I did. Aren’t you happy for me?”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Shit.” He turns away. “Sorry for intruding. I just, you know, caught off guard, and okay, shit, I’ll give you some privacy.”

“I’m covered in bubbles, Jadon. Relax.” My pulse quickens as I glance down to see that I am indeed covered in bubbles. My breasts only in bubbles as the waterline hits me mid-ribs. I lower back down to my neck. “Relax,” I repeat for myself as much as for Jadon.

Slowly, he turns back to me. The muscles along his jaw twitch. “That’s a lot of bubbles,” he manages to say. “How did he make so many?”

“Magic,” I say, blowing foam into the air.

His gaze meanders from the bubbles to my face as if he’s hypnotized.

“What’s in your hands?”

Jadon pulls out of his trance to meet my eyes and immediately falls into another.

Is he staring at me because I resemble a tortured mouse or…?

The sparkle in his eyes and the flush in his face tell me that I look better than a tortured mouse. Much better.

“Jadon?” I say, pointing a soapy finger at his hands. “What are you holding?”

He blinks, then looks at his hands. “ Oh . Olivia took your clothes on a picnic so that she could repair them. You’ll have everything later today.”

I smirk. “Well, isn’t that thoughtful.”

“I brought the clothes you left on the bed,” Jadon says. “Veril asked me to bring them out to you. And then he also gave me this.” He holds up two cups and a flagon. “Wine.”

“Ooh!” I sit up, nearly rising above the water again.

“But I can come back later, after you’re done.”

“And deny me wine? Do you hate me now?”

“I’m not that cruel.” He places my clothes on the bench, then fills the cups with plum-colored wine.

“This is now the best day ever,” I say, taking a cup. “What should we toast to?”

“Let’s see.” He brings a stool over and sits beside the tub. “To new friends. New adventures. Clean water. First kisses.”

We tap cups and sip. Jolts of flavor, first tart and then sweet, punch my mouth. “Oh. Yeah.” A boozy warmth travels through my veins, and I cackle and shout, “Yes!”

A hot bath and good wine and a gorgeous man just a reach away?

Jadon grins and sips from his cup. “When was the last time you drank wine?”

I flick bubbles at him. “If I knew that, then I’d know how and why I ended up in Maford.”

“I know why you’re here.” He stretches out his legs.

“Tell me, Jadon.”

“You’re here because of fate. You were supposed to meet me.”

My eyebrows raise. “I’m here for you ?”

“Mmhmm.” He smiles at the wine in his cup, but then the muscles in his jaw flex and his smile dims.

“What?” I ask, sipping, relaxing, loose as a goose.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says. “At Azzam Cavern—”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “My fighting, my hands, none of it helped you.”

“But you were my prize,” he counters. “Wanting to see you again… I wanted to survive so I could see you again.”

I give him a soft smile and bring a shaky hand to my mouth. “I was so happy to see you. I cried when I thought I’d lost you. And then I cried when I found you alive.”

His skin flushes. “I was relieved that you were the first person I saw when I opened my eyes. There’s no one in the world like you, Kai.”

I tilt my head. “I am unique, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t say all that—”

“What the hell you think the word ‘unique’ means, Ealdrehrt?”

I lift my injured leg that no longer makes me fret anytime I move it.

Jadon watches suds slip back down to my thigh, now hidden in the lather. “Your scabs. They’re gone.”

I tilt my head, finally looking and seeing healthy skin, unscarred skin. “How about that ? And your forehead. No more scar.” I point at him. “Maybe you’re unique, too.”

“I am.” He pours more wine into his cup.

I tip my head back, sinking this time to my ears to stare at the—

The markings!

“Hey,” I say, sitting up. “Draw what my markings look like.” I give him a bar of soap Veril left for me. “Use the pot I’m cooking in.”

“But that would require me to…” He waggles his finger at my shoulder.

“You scared of bubbles?” I ask. “Or are you scared of skin?”

“I’m not scared of nothin’ .” He smiles. “Gimme that soap.” He takes the bar and stations himself behind me. “Your hair.”

“Ah.” I washed my hair, and now it’s flat and long down my back. I move it aside so that he can see.

“Suds.” He blows at my shoulder. “Okay.” His breath warms my skin, and every hair on my body straightens.

“I’m not an artist,” he says, “so don’t laugh.” He selects the bubble-free space on the left side of the tub and draws a filled-in circle and then a twisting line that connects to another filled circle, and then another twisting line from that circle to a third circle.

I peer at the drawing. “That’s it?”

“Yep. But the lines are like vines. There are leaves, not a lot, but they’re there.” He adds leaves to the vines. “And then there’s the one…” He waggles his finger at his chest. “The last vine is trailing from your shoulder to the top of your left rib. Under your front part.”

I snort. “My front part?”

“You haven’t noticed it before?”

My eyes flick from the soap drawing to his eyes. “I’ve taken my bandeau off once, when Veril started treating my injuries, and we weren’t in front of a mirror. I tried looking the other day but I could glimpse only a square.” I rise to my knees.

Jadon says, “What are you…?”

“Draw what you see.” I pull my eyes from the drawing to his face.

“Are you sure about that?” The muscle in his jaw flexes.

“I’m sure. Hurry up. I’m getting cold.” I swipe at the lather covering my skin, revealing the markings. “You see it? Or do you need me to clear more foam.”

He smiles, ruminating on my offer. “Yeah. A little more.”

I lock my eyes on his, and I swipe more foam from beneath my left breast. “Better?”

It takes him a moment to drag his gaze from mine to see what I know he wants to see. “Yeah, that’s better.” His tongue pokes the side of his cheek before he leans in for a closer look.

His breath tickles the sensitive, exposed skin.

“Letters,” he says softly. “Or maybe they’re symbols.” He holds the soap to the iron tub, looks back at my skin, then back at the tub. Then he begins to draw:

Finished, Jadon lets out a breath and sits back on the stool.

I roll onto my stomach to see him better. I sip from my cup, then point to his nose. “You have bubbles.”

He swipes his nose. “Didn’t realize I was that close.”

I say, “Hmm.”

He forces himself to look away from me and back to the drawing on the tub. “Do you know what it means?”

“No,” I say.

We both stare at the markings in silence.

My skin prickles as I realize: someone got closer to me than Jadon did just now to carefully ink these intricate designs right beneath my breast, but I have no memory of the inking or the inker. Worse, I don’t remember what this design nor the ones on my back mean. This marking, though, atop my left rib. There must be some significance to this location. Why not a longer canvas that’s more visible, like my arm or thigh?

“Maybe Veril knows,” he says, then sips wine.

“It’s in a book somewhere in his piles,” I say, flicking my hand. “We’ll find it. In the meantime… Have you washed up?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Of course I’ve washed up. You’re not the only one around here who enjoys soap.”

“I ask because you still have some dirt here.” I point to the dip between my collarbones.

He swipes at the dip between his collarbones.

“Still there.”

He swipes again.

“Still—”

“Will you get it, then?” he says, laughing. He tilts back his head.

I take a soapy finger, dip it into that space, and rub. My skin buzzes as I press. “Done.” My eyes dip down to his shirt. “You also missed…” I motion to the middle of his chest.

A smile inches across his face. “Really, Kai? If you want me to take off my shirt, then just say so.”

“Look for yourself.”

“How can you even see anything beneath my—?” He peeks beneath his tunic, and his smile totters. “Oh.”

“See? I have gifts.”

“That was a guess.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

He tries to contain his grin as he sniffs, “Well, I didn’t have soapy hot water waiting for me. Must be nice.”

I tilt my head. “Yeah, hot, soapy. There’s plenty of room, but of course you’d have to take off all of your clothes. Including that.” I point to his bandaged hand. “Which you should be doing anyway, since you told me you had prettier tattoos, remember, and you told me that you’d let me see them. Or maybe I’m misremembering. Am I misremembering, Jadon?”

His mouth rests into a soft smile. He watches me with eyes softer than that smile.

I lift my eyebrows and hug my knees to my chest.

Jadon hasn’t taken a breath yet. His jaw isn’t even twitching. He’s trying to maintain control.

He’ll lose.

I already see his defeat in the flush across his face and around his neck. I see his defeat in his loose, unclenched hand. The flare of his nostrils.

He’ll give me what I want—and he knows it.

It’s just a matter of time.

When he still doesn’t move, I lean back against the tub and finish off my wine. I hold out the cup for him to fill.

He does.

“Didn’t you say that I was the prize?” I ask before sipping. “Will you claim it, then?”

He takes a beat before he leans toward me. His breath warms my shoulder again.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” I say, my voice huskier now, rumbling because he’s close, so close. I want him closer. Move closer, Jadon .

He brushes my hair aside.

I close my eyes.

He kisses my shoulder.

The world blurs around the edges.

His lips linger there.

I wince and let out a breath.

His kiss surprises my skin. Like it’s never been kissed before. Like it needs to warn me that something unfamiliar is coming my way.

He moves back.

Lungs tight, I shift to face him and then decide to kneel again.

His eyebrows furrow— Will you be okay in his expression.

I mouth yes , not wanting to break this silence.

His eyes roam my soapy nakedness, and he smiles.

I tug the tail of his shirt and lift it over his head. There’s a scar over his heart, and another above his right ribcage, and another above his hipbone. I kiss each scar, my lips burning every time I touch his skin. The tattoo on his left pectoral is not as complicated as his hand ink. This tattoo is an irregular rectangle with rounded corners, the upper left side shaded with violet ink, the lower left shaded with gold. I trace its outline— curious —and then I kiss it. There’s more ink that runs sideways along the left side of his ribcage. The simple script, With death comes life . I run my tongue along those words, leaving a kiss before I lean away.

“You make me weak,” he whispers.

“You make me burn,” I whisper back.

Immediately, we both reach for the waistband of his pants, and my hand trails lower…lower…until it’s resting on his hard—

“We have crabapples!” Philia shouts from the other side of the cottage.

We both startle backward. Soapy water sloshes over both of us.

“Jadon! Kai! Where are you?” Philia calls.

I stifle a scream. “No!”

He whispers, “What the fuck , Philia?”

I slip back into the bubbles.

He rubs his wet face and takes a deep breath. He pulls on his shirt, eyes on me. “I kept my promise. You saw my ink.”

“And it is marvelous,” I say, winking.

“Hey,” Philia says, rounding the corner of the cottage.

Olivia appears next to Philia. “What’s going on?”

They turn, bug-eyed, and gape at the bubbles and soap. Philia speaks first. “You get to take a bath in the tub?”

“Why do you get special treatment?” Olivia grumbles.

“Because she’s unique,” Jadon says, grabbing our cups and the empty flagon. Before he backs away from the tub, he whispers, “Next time, we won’t stop.”

In a barn. In a garden. Maybe this garden. And we’ll keep going, not stopping until the end of the world.