Ada's POV

  The sheets lay tangled at the foot of the bed. Dane was next to her, a comforting silhouette in the Dark. She closed her eyes for only a moment, and when she opened them, she was alone. How long had passed? She couldn't say.

  Steam curled from beneath the bathroom door to the right of the bed. The sound of the shower filled the silence. Sleep cradled her like a mother cradles her infant. It had been years since she'd slept in a real bed.

  The room could have belonged to one of those December Airbnbs tucked in the mountains. The bed was handcrafted from whole logs, not planks, fitted with care and precision. Firelight flickered from the stone hearth beyond the foot of the bed, casting warm reds and yellows across the floor. A leather chair sat beside it, along with a small side table. Ada's white dress, flared with soot, draped across the chair like a makeshift cover, as if trying to hide the day's violence. Beside it sat Dane's armor, caked in dried blood and viscera.

  She let her eyes fall shut again.

  Dane's POV

  Dane stood beneath the water, letting it rain over him longer than necessary. He watched as the bottom of the tub shifted in color from the crimson of blood to the dark ash of soot from the Shadowman's flames, and finally to the stark white of porcelain. A bar of soap in the corner smelled of sandalwood and rum. It was a familiar scent he had once associated with the commander. That smell had always accompanied the dungeon excursions: the promise of death. But now, when he inhaled it, he didn't think of the commander. He thought of Ada.

  Smells were strange things. Memory clung to them.

  When Dane wanted to remember his mother, he would visit the market and breathe in the scent of fresh apples. When he thought of his sister, he would walk through tall grass and watch the clouds, recalling their days lying on their backs, imagining shapes in the sky. And when sandalwood and rum filled his lungs now, it wasn't violence that came to mind. It was Ada.

  His thoughts churned.

  He had promised himself not to pursue anything with her until she was free and held her title of nobility. The power imbalance was too significant. He didn't want her affection if it came from a place she hadn't chosen.

  His only other relationship had been with Isabelle, a girl from the Earthbound camp. She was a year older, and at the time, Dane believed he was in love. But for the Earthbound, love always ended in pain. On the day of her proving, Isabelle chose to fight. A mutated dog with three heads burst from the opposite cage. She fought with everything she had until Dane's rapier snapped in her hands. He told her to grab one of the elf-made weapons, but she laughed and said he was her lucky charm.

  Isabelle had run, blood-covered and desperate, pleading with the guards. They only watched with twisted grins that split their faces like devil masks, enjoying the spectacle. Her eyes found Dane's one last time.

  "I love you," she mouthed, tears in her eyes.

  Then the beast tore her apart. She had been sixteen. A woman in the eyes of the system. Still a child on Earth.

  A loud bang shattered the memory.

  Not the door to the bedroom where Ada lay sleeping, but the one that opened into the hallway. The kind of knock that meant trouble in the camps, which usually meant bed inspections and then shackles. Dane shut off the water, cast one last glance at the clean porcelain beneath his feet, then wrapped himself in a towel and made his way to the door. He opened it. Amelia stood on the other side, composed but flustered. Her one good eye shifted upward after a brief, involuntary glance at his bare chest. A strip of torn bedsheet covered the other, likely from a similar set to what Ada now slept beneath.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  She cleared her throat, regaining control.

  "Dane, we need to be mindful of water usage. It's not unlimited." Her tone was measured, almost official. "Also, for future reference, the rooms are soundproof if you channel mana into the door while holding the handle."

  Dane turned scarlet.

  "I... I'll keep that in mind," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. The shame was written plainly on his face. For a moment, she saw the boy beneath the soldier.

  "I left a change of clothes in the living room. It's in my spatial bag," she added, her voice softening. "Once you've dressed, please meet me in my chambers. There's something we need to discuss."

  Dane nodded, then paused. "I, uh… I appreciate it. But I want to see where things go with Ada."

  Amelia blinked, caught off guard.

  "…That wasn't my intention."

  "Oh," Dane said, looking down. "Sorry. I thought... I mean, it felt like maybe... never mind."

  She sighed quietly, smoothing the front of her casual dress as if to collect herself. "You misread the moment. It happens."

  She stepped back, then turned, pausing just before the corner.

  "Five minutes, Dane. Please don't make me come back."

  The color had faded from Dane's cheeks, but now it warmed the tips of Amelia's ears as she disappeared down the hall.

  Amelia's POV

  Amelia walked gracefully down the hall, boots clicking softly against the stone, while the spatial tent was magical, the floor remained the familiar cold, damp dungeon floor. Her back was slumped, precisely the opposite of what her tutors taught. Her thoughts were a storm she couldn't calm. She didn't realize how tightly she gripped her sleeve until she reached her bedroom door. She opened the large wooden door, the decorative hinges signaling that this was the Master door—the irony. The door shut with a soft click. Alone at last, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

  "He thought I was propositioning him." The idea was repulsive.

  She pressed her back to the door, eyes closed, a dozen sharp emotions swirling in her head: frustration, humiliation, intrigue.

  The scent of flowers drifted through the room, the last thing she gathered as she crossed the line of being a full-blown traitor. It usually soothed her, but it did nothing this morning.

  "You are Amelia Valen'dara Tudor, of the Arcane Warriors," she reminded herself. "You trained your whole life to climb the ladder, and die before surrendering your name. This is only a minor stop on the glory you will bring to your house." And yet here she was, collared, Enslaved to an Earthbound.

  Her hands trembled before she caught herself. She hated the bond, the way it beckoned at the edge of her mind, a constant reminder that she was no longer in control. That her choices weren't always hers to make. Capture on the battlefield. That she could endure. But it irritated her to be tied to Dane McAlister, a boy fumbling through life with half-earned power and questionable decisions. She knew that she was one of those questionable decisions; he should have killed her and been done with it. He humiliated her.

  And yet... He hadn't once treated her like a possession. He hadn't touched the bond, not since he first put the shackles on her. He hadn't even looked at her face with pity after the rockslide that her countryman had thrown on her. His lover looked at her like a wounded bird. But Dane, not even once. Instead, he looked at her as if she were whole.

  She moved to the vanity beside her bed and sat stiffly, as though posture could anchor her thoughts. Her fingers drifted over the scars on her face, caressed the cheekbones now holding lumps, and hovered near the bandage over her eye. She didn't touch it; she didn't need to. The damage ran deeper.

  "He's still your captor," she told herself. "Cunning. Foolish. Perhaps well-meaning. But still your Tyrant."

  That made the warmth in her chest feel wrong. The longer she stayed near him, the harder it became to separate her feelings. Still, something lay beneath; she didn't know if it was gratitude for sparring her life, loyalty for his valiant rescue from the rockslide and the undead wolf, or something more confusing.

  She glanced toward the door. Five minutes, she had said. She didn't know if she wanted him to come in early or not at all.

  "You're just going to tell him about the quest. You owe him that much."

  Still… her ears blazed with embarrassment. Why was he so thick?