water’s blissfully warm embrace. A moan fled her lips as the heat worked its way into her muscles. Her eyelids dragged shut.
Bell chuckled beside her. “The look on your face is the same one you have when you eat sticky buns.”
“If only the Seraphians made those.” She sank deeper into the water, resting her head on the edge of the pool. One eye slid open. “So your magick worked then?”
“You should have seen me.” Pride sparked inside his bright blue eyes. “I mean, Xandrian was there the whole time, and my threading was a disaster—even with help from my acrum. But I used a fire spell and managed to nick one of the Asgardians with my dagger.”
Behind Bell, Ember and Surai forced back grins. Bragging about nicking an enemy in battle must seem so silly to warriors such as them.
Surai tweaked his ear. “Careful being such a badass or they’ll write songs about your exploits.”
“I bet they already have with these muscles,” Haven teased, squeezing his arm. Bell would never be huge, but his training had reshaped his slender body, coaxing out muscles she never knew he had.
A sheepish grin brightened his face. She could almost see his happiness seeping across the water and into her breast, thawing the cold fist that seemed permanently wrapped around her heart.
Bell was flourishing under Xandrian’s expert tutelage, but it wasn’t just his runecasting that had improved. The Sun Lord’s swordplay lessons focused on Bell’s innate talents—agility and speed—a sharp contrast to his father’s stubborn insistence that Bell learn to fight using brute strength.
His magick was coming along slower than he’d like, but according to Xandrian, for a mortal from the House Nine, that was to be expected. His magick had been dormant for years. Once they narrowed down his type of power, it would be easier.
“I heard you destroyed a portal,” Bell remarked, and Haven stiffened, remembering the Asgardians’ screams. “I thought we agreed you would stay inside the tower, where you’re protected?”
“I agreed that the tower was the safest place for me, but I never promised to stay there during an attack.”
“Smartass.” Bell rolled his eyes.
“Droob.”
“If the monk were here, you would stay put.”
“Possibly,” she admitted, cringing as she imagined the disappointed way he would quietly stare at her, his judgment cutting in its silence. If it were up to the monk, she would be in the temple every waking hour, praying for direction from the Goddess. “When he returns, maybe don’t mention last night?”
The monk—they still had yet to learn a name—was traveling around Solissia gathering Order of Soltari recruits.
“I made an oath, Haven.” The grooves around his mouth deepened as his voice grew solemn. “An oath to protect you. So let me. You know what would happen if Archeron captures you . . .”
Surai’s face darkened. “We no longer use that name. It belonged to my brother-in-arms, and he’s passed to the Nihl.”
“The new Sun Sovereign,” Bell corrected, “won’t stop until he has Haven. If I was ruler of Penryth, I could offer her more protection—” A muscle in Bell’s jaw ticked, and she noticed how his fingers curled and uncurled at the mention of his stolen kingdom. “Until we hear back from the emissaries, this island remains too unprotected.”
They’d sent out emissaries over two weeks ago to every corner of the realm. All of Haven’s hopes rested on building alliances, hopes that deteriorated more and more each day the emissaries failed to return.
Surai’s face was achingly empty of emotion as she said, “Every one of us would die before we let him take her.”
Ember arched an eyebrow, the teasing gesture so painfully similar to Rook’s that Haven’s breath caught. “If only the new Sun Sovereign had enough peach-fuzz on those little balls of his to come to Shadoria instead of sending hired mercenaries.”
Haven tried to smile at the joke, but the wounds Archeron had left were still too fresh. Every mention of him dragged his face to the surface.
His arrogant smile. His rich, always teasing voice. That fiery hope he’d always carried inside him to chase away the unrelenting darkness.
Little Mortal.
The air around her thinned. Her chest heaved as she tried to drag in a breath, the world spinning in loose, jarring circles. Despite the sweltering heat, a deep aching chill slithered along her bones and settled beneath her sternum.
Do you still love me now that I am no longer beautiful?
Her teeth slammed together as the bland oats from earlier threatened to come up. Eyes watering, she dunked her