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“We should go.” Her voice is unsteady, but she makes no attempt to pull away.

“Yes.” The word leaves me slowly.

Her eyes—still too bright, too alive—search mine. I need to step back. Instead, I stand there, caught in the pull, watching silver burn through her gaze, and for the first time in decades, I lose track of what’s going on around me.

The door handle rattles. A sharp, jarring intrusion.

Ellie jolts, and I release her hands immediately, the severed connection snapping through my skin like a lash.

“Supply check,” a voice calls through the door. “Unlock for inventory.”

I assess our options. The room has no secondary exit, and no concealment. A confrontation would draw too much attention. We need an alternative explanation for our presence.

“Follow my lead,” I whisper, then crack the door open, just enough to allow my face to show.

A mid-ranked supervisor stands outside, papers clutched in one hand. His initial irritation shifts to mild surprise when he sees me.

“This room is occupied,” I tell him, allowing a trace of embarrassment to color my voice. Let him assume. Let him fill in the blanks.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Fraternization during duty hours is forbidden.” A warning, not an accusation. He’s only one rank above us, he has no real authority.

“Of course. We were just …” I let the pause build for a second too long. “ … finishing.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, understanding clicks into place behind his gaze. Disgust fills his eyes, but more than that, discomfort. He doesn’twantfurther details.

His grip on his papers tightens. “Room needs inventory by the end of the day. See that you’re not here when I return.”

“Understood. Thank you for your discretion.”

He leaves quickly, eager to distance himself from any implications. When his footsteps fade, I shut the door and turn back to Ellie.

She’s standing where I left her, face flushed red from hairline to collarbone, eyes wide with outrage and embarrassment.

“I don’t evenneedto understand your language to know what you just implied.”

“Servants often find ways to make their days more bearable.” My voice is dry. “Despite rules against it.”

“Great. Perfect. Just what I needed.” Her voice rises half a note, then breaks off when she realizes shouting will only worsen the situation.

“You’re unlikely to ever see him again.”

“But still …” She cuts herself off, clearly imagining whatever rumors might already be circulating … among people she doesn’t know … and will never have to face.

For some reason, it makes me want to smile.

“We should go back to our rooms before anything else happens.”

She nods, forcing composure back into place. “Thiswon’thappen again. I won’t let it.”

I don’t comment. Instead of leaving her in her room, I take her to mine. She’s too wrung out to ask why.

As soon as we step inside, she sinks heavily onto the edge of the bed.

“Well, that was fun.”

I don’t reply, my thoughts circling on the connection between us. A connection growing more complex with every breath she takes near me. What began as a simple resonance has become something more immediate. A link that allows energy transfer when she loses control.

It shouldn’t exist. Yet it does.