Page 24

His coat’s stained—dried blood crusted down one sleeve, mud on the hem, a smudge of ash across his jaw like some poetic war paint that’s lost the war. And now he’s getting it all over the damn bed I cleaned this morning. Crisp linens. Perfect throw pillows. That stupid lavender sachet I stuffed under the mattress as a joke.

Ruined.

“Okay, that’s a hate crime,” I say, grimacing. “You’re desecrating sacred ground. I spenthourson those sheets, Cas. Hours. You’re literally bleeding on my pride.”

He doesn't respond. Just sits there, spine curved, hands dangling between his knees like his bones aren’t sure how to hold him anymore. His eyes are on the floor. Or maybe somewhere past it.

I cross the room in three long strides and slap a hand to his shoulder, not gently. “Shower. Now. You smell like battlefield despair and betrayal. Which, yes, is probably accurate, but alsogross.”

Still nothing.

“Come on, don’t make me get Elias,” I add, crouching to meet his eyes. “He’ll try to bathe you himself, andno onerecovers from that.”

Caspian finally blinks, just once. Then, hoarse, “I don’t want to be alone.”

It’s not a plea. Not even a whisper. But it’s real And it undoes something in me.

I soften, just enough. Still obnoxious. Still me. But my voice lowers a notch. “Okay, then we compromise. I stay in the room, and yougoto the bathroom. You clean all this… existential grime off, and I sit out here and make sure no one plots a murder or a marriage while you’re naked and vulnerable. Deal?”

He finally nods, slow and stiff, and drags himself upright. The moment he turns his back, I mouth a silentthank the godsand start stripping the soiled bedding before it haunts me.

And as the door to the bathroom clicks shut behind him, steam already starting to roll beneath the doorframe, I toss the ruined pillow into the fireplace, flop backward onto the remaining clean half of the mattress, and sigh loud enough for the Hollow to hear.

“Please, Luna,” I mutter. “Wake up soon. The emotional labor in this house is unsustainable.”

Ambrose

She sits up like death never touched her. No struggle, no groan of pain—just that sharp inhale as if she’s waking from a dream that followed her too far. The bandage on her shoulder, once soaked in blood, is now a useless afterthought. Elias’s stunt worked, for once—compressed time, isolated the injury, rewound the damage. Clean. Neat. Unnatural. She's whole again.

I wish I could say the same for the rest of us.

Riven stands to her right, arms crossed like he doesn’t want to be here, which would be more convincing if he weren’t so damn close to the bed. His jaw is tight, his words clipped as he lays it all out—Caspian’s fractured bond with Branwen, the attempted murder that looked a lot like a mercy kill gone wrong, and the strange, twisted half-connection now pulling him toward Luna like fate forgot whose side it was on.

She listens. Doesn’t interrupt. No dramatic gasp. No fury, no tremble in her spine.

Just a nod.

And then she asks, “Is Caspian okay?”

I blink.

Riven makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut. He stares at her like she’s lost her mind. And me? I almost laugh.

Because of course she asks that. Of course the girl who bleeds and still walks asks about the man who made her bleed. Of course she’s thinking abouthim, about what it cost him, not just what it did to her. It's infuriating. Admirable. Naïve. Dangerous.

“You’re asking ifhe’sokay?” I murmur, voice low but laced with ice. “He stabbed you, Luna.”

She looks at me, slow. Calm. And it burns.

“And he stopped,” she says, as if that changes anything. “He didn’t finish the kill. He pulled the blade out. He—”

“—left a hole near your heart,” I snap. “Pardon me if that makes me question his redemption arc.”

Riven doesn’t say anything. He’s still looking at her like she’s speaking another language, one written in pity and madness.

But Luna… she just exhales. Looks down at her hand like it might give her answers none of us have.

“Something broke in him,” she says softly. “And I think it’s the only reason I’m still breathing.”