She traced her fingertips over the place on her shoulder he’d pierced. A spot that was now nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. Despite his wishes, they hadn’t even made it to Aleron’s coast before she’d chosen to heal it.

Jaren wanted to advertise their bond to the world, shout it from the rooftops and mark it upon her skin, but she just wasn’t quite there yet. She’d claimed him, yes, and she didn’t regret it, but she just didn’t know how to feel about being branded like some sort of possession.

She might not ever feel like true royalty, but that’s what every Magyki would see her as. Their Nlem snadzend who’d been raised by their enemy.

She didn’t want that. She wanted to be seen as strong and confident, a female who could stand on her own two feet and wield a weapon when needed. And she wanted to earn it. Not as a Barilias mate, but as herself.

She wasn’t a possession that needed to be branded, nor was she some damsel in need of protection. She could protect herself.

Shaking her head, she let her hand drop to her side. Jaren would be furious when he found out what she’d done, but he’d get over it.

Eventually.

When she grew the courage to tell him.

Turning from her reflection, she finally stepped into the tub, lowering herself down until everything but her head sank below the surface. It engulfed her like a warm embrace, and an embarrassingly loud moan slipped from her lips. Gods, that felt good.

She closed her eyes, filling her lungs with as much air as they could hold, and slid the rest of the way down until she was fully submerged. Practically attacking herself, she rubbed vigorously at her face and neck, determined to come out a different color than she’d gone in.

When her skin stung and her chest started to burn, she pushed up, heaving in air. But the second she did, her body seized, and she gasped, slipping back under. It felt like she’d inhaled jagged shards of ice straight into her lungs.

Water sealed around her, ramming up her nostrils and down her throat, and she thrashed, flailing her arms until her face finally broke the surface again.

She choked, spitting water, and snapped her eyes open, blinking away the burn. But instead of the walls of the bathing room, she was met with solid darkness. She kicked, trying to locate the bottom of the tub to hoist herself out, but it wasn’t there.

She tried again, throwing her body around as a panic attack clawed at her chest, seeping into her mind, and threatening to take over. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

She spread her arms, slapping at the water as she blindly searched for the edge, but it was like the tub had completely disappeared. As if she’d never been in it to begin with.

She cried out, trying not to vomit as she kicked her legs back and forth, desperately trying to keep her nose above the water. She had no idea how to swim. Elric had described it to her once when she was a child, but she couldn’t remember anything he’d said.