Page 155 of Godbound
Seraphina.
She’s still wearing the same clothes from the challenge. Her white hair is matted to her face, stained with sweat and grime. The sharp tang of alcohol stings the air, undercut by the sour reek of vomit.
For a second, I just stare. And I hate that part of me, the part that wants to turn away. Seraphina was cruel to me, sharp-tongued and superior. I remember how she looked at me during the challenges, like I was beneath her. The failed queen she called me.
But this? This isn’t the Seraphina who challenged me in the arena, this is what’s left of her. And the worst part is I still don’t know how to feel. Pity? Resentment? Relief that it wasn’t me?
Maybe all of it. Maybe that’s why my stomach twists so violently. Because no matter what passed between us, I can’t watch her fall apart and pretend I have the right to judge her for it.
“We should take her inside,” I say softly, gesturing to the shrine. I don’t want people inside to see her like that, I’m sure the prideful girl would hate it.
The dragon lowers her head and lifts Seraphina in her paws withunexpected tenderness, cradling the fallen Champion. Then, with great care, she places Seraphina gently on her back, nestled between her ruined wings.
I lead the way back through the garden to the shrine. Together, we lay Seraphina down before the statue of Calista. Her breath is shallow, but steady. Her face, even in unconsciousness, looks haunted.
“Stay with her,” I murmur. “I’ll send someone soon with blankets, water and food for you both. And once she’s awake, I’ll try to talk some sense into her.”
Even as I say it, I know kindness won’t be enough. Words alone can’t heal a girl so thoroughly broken by her parents’ judgment.
My gaze drifts to the statue of the goddess, to the twisted horns that seem to writhe in the dim light, drawn by a chill sense of premonition. The dragon exhales a low, rumbling huff that I take as agreement to stand watch.
I turn and step away, hoping Seraphina will sleep long enough to sober up. My eyes sweep the chamber, searching for any trace of a Divinity Gaze hidden in the shadows that might let the gods, the Sphere, or the people witness this moment of weakness. I find none.
Good. Because if they saw her like this, if Calista saw her, she’d know how vulnerable Seraphina truly is.
And gods love nothing more than broken things they can reshape.
Kaelzar finds me not long after, carrying news I half expected and still wasn’t ready to hear. Sibyl came while I was gone, announced that the final challenge would take place tomorrow morning, and left without waiting for him to fetch me. We’re to present ourselves at the Tourney Arena at sunrise.
I let the weight of it settle, then push it aside. Whatever waits for us tomorrow can wait a little longer. For now, I choose this moment, this fragile stretch of time we still have. Because tomorrow will be a threshold. An ending or a beginning. And when we cross it, nothing in our lives will remain the same.
After Kaelzar delivers everything I promised to the dragon and Seraphina, he leads me to my private chamber. It is still barricaded from the outside, only accessible through the shadows he commands. The moon spills through the vast windows, its silver glow weaving with the flames of dozens of thick candles flickering across the room.
The moonlight clings to Kaelzar’s gray eyes, turning them into something unearthly as they follow me.
I stop, breath caught in my throat. A tub waits in the center of the room, steam curling up from its surface.
Across from it, my bed. Its crisp white sheets call to me with the promise of a dreamless sleep. I ache to dive into its softness.
But not yet. Not before I finally wash up.
I move toward the tub. The sweet scent of strawberries andvanilla rises up. Foam spreads over the surface of the water like a blanket. I brace my hands against the edge, inhale deeply, and let the sweetness flood me.
Behind me, Kaelzar clears his throat. “I will return in the morning?—”
“Stay,” I murmur. This time, my voice doesn’t falter. This time, I’m not afraid of asking.
And for the first time, I’m not afraid of the answer either. Because something in me knows he’s been waiting for me to say it. To command him to stay.
I glance over my shoulder and his mouth tilts at the corner. Relief flickers in his eyes, but something darker follows it. Guilt or regret?
Perhaps it’s a shadow of fear for what tomorrow demands of us. Of me.
Later, I tell myself. Later, when the final challenge is behind us, I’ll drag the truth out of him. Tonight, I choose the illusion: the isolated room, the steaming water, the bed like a cloud, and the man who makes the impossible feel real.
Kaelzar turns away, granting me privacy, and I let my clothes slip from my body, one piece at a time. I stand naked for a heartbeat too long, my skin humming, silently daring him to turn around too soon, to see me like this.
Not as he did before, when I was broken and bleeding, and he was terrified of losing me. But whole, unashamed, aware of his presence and welcoming it.
