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The moment always passed.

I spat out blood and hauled up my dagger.

This was going to be alongnight.

6

Nepheli

The brawl downstairs grew so loud that I could no longer hear my own thoughts, let alone quell my pounding heart. I ended up in the bathtub with my head underwater, holding my breath, and watching the refractions gleam and flutter like a pair of iridescent wings.

The North didn’t have as many advanced inventions as the South since they relied on magic for most things, but thankfully, this was a relatively modern bathtub. However, the pipes had accumulated such an unsettling amount of grime and rust that it was a miracle the thing worked at all.

Initially, I’d had a funny image pop up in my head of twisting the spigots only for something outrageous to pour out—perhaps a talking frog instead of water. I always caught myself thinking of the oddest things whenever I was this nervous. And gods knew I was sick with worry.

I had no idea how Apollo intended to get me back to Elora. His promise to help me was as vague as his manners, and I was anxious for him to return to the room and lay out some sort of plan that would put my mind at ease.

In the meantime, I tried my best to scrub this horrible day off my body before the water got too cold. I found a single bar of unscented soap clinging on a small metal tray atop the footstool next to the bathtub, and although it did a decent enough job to clean my body, when I brushed the lather through my hair, its texture grew tacky and grainy, and I spent a terribly long time trying to rinse it off, groaning incoherent curses under my breath.

Eventually, the door creaked, and heavy footsteps thudded on the old floor. I cowered into the tub, bringing my knees flush with my breasts. “Apollo?”

There was a long pause. Then a tired sigh. “Yes, darling?”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“You don’t say. And here I was chatting up with the other Nepheli on the bed,” he retorted.

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “Can you hand me a towel, please? I forgot.”

Apollo fumbled around the room, opening drawers here and there while muttering unintelligibly to himself. He must have finally found one because his footsteps carried him alarmingly close to the impromptu partition.

“Don’t come closer,” I blurted out, wavering in such panic inside the tub that water spilled from the edges.

“Then how am I supposed to hand you the damned towel?” growled Apollo.

“Throw it,” I bit out.

He made a low, indignant sound and tossed the towel over the partition. I caught it in midair and exhaled in relief.

As I got out of the tub, wrapping the rough cloth tightly around my body, I realized, to my absolute dismay, that, out of habit, I’d left my clothes folded in a stack atop the bench at the foot of the bed. If I were in my Shop now, the cauldron would be gurgling in exasperation as if to say,Where’s your head today, girl?

I got on my toes and took a peek over the partition, clutching the edge of the towel as if my life depended on it.

Apollo was sitting on the bed, crouched low, and busy unlacing his boots.

I turned around, too embarrassed to look him in the eye, and cleared my throat. “Can you please pass me my garments too?”

“Oh, goody,” he wryly muttered. “It is so rare I get to be a handmaiden these days.”

“Is it your job to be this obnoxious?” I hissed. “Is there some sort of competition that I’m unaware of? Will you get a medal for the most odious man in The Faraway North if you win?”

Apollo bristled. “I knew the gods were fucking with me.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he snarled as he tossed me my chemise. “Get dressed. Your soup will get cold.”

Well, at least he brought some food for me too. I was surprised he thought of it at all.