A sharp bang echoes somewhere in the tower, and my limb jerks before I’m even fully awake.

  I surface slowly, already on my feet in the tub as my thoughts scramble to catch up. The water has gone lukewarm; my fingers are pruned and pale.

  …Gods. How long was I out?

  “Just a minute!” I call, already hearing irritated grumbles through the door.

  I grab a towel from the rack and dry off quickly, hair still damp enough to cling to my shoulders. There’s no time to deal with it properly—I loop the towel over my shoulder and pull on my clothes in a rush.

  When I unlatch the door, I barely manage an apologetic smile before they stream past me, eager voices and damp boots filling the space. Someone swears about the water needing reheating.

  I don’t wait around.

  I’m already moving, feet light on the stairs as I retreat upward.

  Back in my room, I do what I can with my hair—towel, comb, patience. It’s too damp to braid, so I tie it back instead and let it be. I’ll fix it later.

  My armor plates are still serviceable. I set them carefully atop the dresser. Everything else—ruined leather, torn straps—would go in the bin.

  If I had one, that is.

  I sigh. More furniture. Gods.

  Last, my gaze settles on the coat folded across my arm.

  It isn’t dirty, not exactly—but the scuffs and faint marks pull me right back to the fight. To the moment she was thrown aside.

  …Yeah. The least I can do is wash it properly and return it.

  I check the time. The fourth-floor laundry should be empty by now—everyone’s tired, licking their wounds. Laundry can wait for them.

  I take one last look around, then reach for the door.

  And stop.

  Cattleya is leaning against the wall across from my room, gaze unfocused—until it finds me. When it does, something bright flicks in her eye—pleased.

  “Hey… Cat.” My smile comes out a little awkward as I lock the door behind me.

  “Thanks for this,” I say, tapping the coat draped over my arm. “I’m just going to run it through the wash and bring it back, alright?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  She just studies me, head tilted slightly, as if weighing something I can’t see.

  I barely notice her hand move until she’s already taken the coat.

  “Ah— I said I’d clean it,” I protest, but the words die halfway out.

  She bunches the fabric in her hands and lifts it to her nose.

  Every thought in my head stops at once.

  Heat rushes straight to my face.

  Without comment, she slips the coat back on in one smooth motion. It settles over her shoulders like it belongs there—like it always has.

  I stare, thoughts stalling completely.

  Before I can recover, her hand closes around my wrist and she’s already walking, tugging me along.

  “Let’s go, Imo.”

  I stumble at first, then match her pace. She slows, just a fraction, enough to keep me beside her.

  My gaze drops to her hand—painted nails, neatly trimmed but allowed to grow. Fingers slender but strong, callused. Her grip is firm, steady… careful.

  Gentle.

  “Ah—” The sound slips out as she lets go, and I realize we’ve stopped.

  The strategy room.

  Everyone’s already gathered. Cinna looks up at me with open concern. Cattleya takes a seat opposite. I drag out a chair and sit as well, suddenly aware of how tired I feel.

  When I look up, Lucius is already watching me.

  Startled, I drop my gaze to the table.

  The room hums—low voices, quiet laughter, murmured grief. Relief and loss, tangled together. And beneath it all, that familiar hum again, just to my left.

  I breathe with it. Long. Steady.

  “A very good job,” Lucius says, without ceremony.

  “Few injuries. No further losses. For operating on the Aureate’s behalf, the reward has been substantial.” His gaze flicks across the room. “Yes. It will be reflected in your pay.”

  He pauses, measuring the room.

  “As things stand, another celebration would be in poor taste. Still—everyone’s contributions were significant.”

  He reaches down and lifts a sack of coin larger than the one from the bar night. It lands in front of Ulric with a dull, weighty thud.

  Lucius’s eyes snap to Veil.

  “You did what I believed you capable of in the first place. Be proud.” A beat. “But do not mistake that for exceeding expectations. You have only begun to meet them.”

  His gaze shifts to me. The silence stretches just a moment too long.

  “I expect all of you to function as a single unit — limbs, heart, mind. One body. Any loss diminishes us equally.”

  He steps away, hands clasped behind his back.

  “We will mourn five brave souls—openly, and without forgetting them.” His voice hardens, steadies. “But we will not allow grief to paralyze us. We live—and die—by our unity.”

  A breath.

  “The Shield will be replaced. Our allies are aware of the situation. I expect an experienced captain to assume command within the coming days.”

  The room stirs—murmurs, questions, unease.

  “Dismissed.”

  Lucius turns and ascends the stairs without another word.

  For a moment, no one moves.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I stare at the table, thoughts drifting. I’ve lost comrades before. I know the weight settling in their chests now.

  A large hand settles on my shoulder.

  Ulric smiles down at me, Veil hovering at his side.

  “I say we take the coin and disappear somewhere sunny. Beaches. Drinks with umbrellas,” Veil grins.

  Ulric pats my back. “Come on. Let’s head downstairs and talk.”

  I glance aside—Cattleya is already descending the steps.

  I smile… then freeze.

  Cinna’s gaze is sharp. Cutting, in a way that makes me flinch.

  I stand immediately.

  “I could really use something warm—” I stop, squint. “Actually… can I use the bar?”

  Ulric raises an eyebrow, then nods, curious.

  Relief floods me. The shift in topic softens the air—Cinna relaxes just a fraction. Exactly what I needed.

  I hurry downstairs, pass our table—Cattleya already seated, watching me with unfiltered curiosity—and continue to the unmanned bar.

  Imported bottles line the shelves. My eyes widen despite myself. Gods, some of these were impossible to get back home.

  I find the ice box. Fruit. Juice. Perfect.

  Behind me, the team gathers at the counter in silence.

  “Any preferences?” I ask.

  They exchange glances.

  “…Whatever’s open,” Ulric shrugs. “Whisky?”

  “Something sweet,” Cinna adds gently.

  Ulric nods. “Sweet sounds good.” He looks to Veil.

  “Aye, cove.” Veil’s already slipping into the small kitchen, towel over his shoulder.

  “Mm,” Cattleya hums, her tail swishing.

  Memory washes over me—Fosca’s bar, the absurd menu I memorized out of boredom.

  I move.

  Berries crushed into paste. Honey coating the glasses. Clear spirit into the shaker. Ice cracked unevenly—no need to be fancy.

  I shake hard, ice rattling violently inside the tin.

  I feel their eyes on me and grow suddenly self-conscious. Still, I pour. Frothy red-purple liquid fills the glasses. Lime squeezed fresh. A wheel dropped in each.

  “I present you…” I flourish a hand. “The Torment.”

  A beat.

  “…My old mentor liked dramatic names.”

  They drink.

  Cinna’s eyes widen. A hiccup escapes her and I nearly melt on the spot.

  “I don’t usually drink,” she says softly, “but this is quite—”

  Ulric sniffs his glass. “Lot goin’ on in there. But… aye. It’s good.”

  Cattleya drains hers like juice, pupils blown wide, eyes never leaving me.

  Veil returns from the kitchen, takes a sip—

  —and bares his fangs in a grin.

  “Bloody hell, cove,” he laughs, wiping his mouth. “That don’t just bite—it kicks like it’s got summat personal to settle.”

  We all laugh at Veil’s comment.

  I watch as Cattleya’s tongue traces the rim of her empty glass, careful, intent, trying to coax the last stubborn drops free. The sight draws a resigned smile from me—calm, relaxed. I step closer and stop in front of her.

  “…Want another?”

  Her eyes widen, like the idea itself is new. She nods once—polite, restrained—but behind her, her tail swishes with unmistakable delight. I chuckle despite myself.

  I turn to fix another drink. I still haven’t touched mine.

  As I work, I glance at Cinna. Whatever question had been lingering on her lips feels… distant now. A pang of guilt stirs in me. It would be nice—to speak freely, to have it accepted as ordinary. Not support. Not praise. Just… acceptance.

  I know better than to expect that.

  Veil steps back into view, a bowl tucked under one arm, wooden spoon circling its contents with practiced ease.

  “So,” he says, glancing at Ulric, “what was it you wanted t’ talk about, ’ric?”

  Ulric straightens. “Oh—right.”

  He sets his half-empty glass down, rubbing the back of his neck. I hand Cattleya her refill and linger beside her as Ulric gathers himself.

  “Uh… yeah. I was thinkin’—maybe tomorrow we all go out together.” He shrugs, awkward but sincere. “We did a damn good job. Splitting the reward’s fine, sure, but…” His voice wavers. “I just wanna hold you all so tight your bones crack.”

  An awkward chuckle ripples through the room.

  “I agree,” Cinna says gently, cheeks faintly flushed. “Dividing the payout would be fair—but we still have our salaries. For the bonus… sharing it as a group sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  Nods follow. Agreement settles easily.

  My hand lifts, hesitant.

  Ulric’s brows rise. “Yeah?”

  “I… uh.” Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I just moved here. I was hoping to buy a few things for my room. It’s very… bare.” A nervous laugh. “I can wait until my salary—really. I have savings. I didn’t come here empty-handed.”

  Silence.

  Then Ulric smirks.

  “And you plan on carryin’ all that yourself, missy?” He flexes deliberately. His arm is—gods—six times thicker than mine.

  I laugh, helpless.

  Cattleya mirrors him, flexing in turn. She’s not as bulky—but the strength there is undeniable. No wonder she swings that sword.

  “…Is that really okay?” I ask.

  A clang echoes from the kitchen as the oven snaps shut. Veil returns, dusting his hands.

  “Been meanin’ to get new shoes,” he says casually. “Reckon I’ll need a rack, aye?”

  “I could use more baskets,” Cinna adds thoughtfully.

  Ulric nods, decision made. “Settled,” He says, final as a hammer strike.

  I bow my head, overcome. “…Thank you.”

  My face burns. I don’t lift my head for a long moment.

  This warmth. This ease.

  I belong.

  And I can’t risk losing that.

  A hand lands gently on my head.

  I stiffen, startled.

  Cattleya withdraws her hand, brows knitting slightly. “…Was that weird?” she asks the room. “It just felt like she needed it.”

  Laughter erupts. My cheeks go molten.

  …She wasn’t wrong.

  I take a steady breath, turn back to my drink, and pretend very hard that my heart isn’t doing something dangerously hopeful.

  After a few steadying breaths—and a few sips—I feel myself settle. The low chatter behind me has softened to murmurs. When I turn, I see Cinna’s hand resting on Ulric’s arm, her voice low and gentle as she offers reassurance.

  Cattleya’s gaze still lingers on me. I’m… used to it now.

  I approach her with an easy smile, glancing down at her glass. Empty again. She really can drink.

  “So,” I ask, nodding toward the kitchen, “what are you making over there? It smells sweet.”

  Veil startles slightly, like he’d drifted somewhere else entirely.

  “I promised lemon bars,” he says proudly. Then he shrugs. “It’s late, though. Few more hours yet. Tomorrow’s snack.”

  His grin is infectious. I mirror it without thinking.

  Behind me, a quiet sniffle cuts through the room. I turn just in time to see Ulric wrapping Cinna in a careful, enveloping hug.

  “There, there,” she murmurs soothingly.

  He releases her, then—without hesitation—pulls Cattleya into a hug. She accepts it without comment, unbothered, tail flicking once.

  Then he turns to me.

  I barely have time to react before I’m gathered up, pressed against his broad chest. His arms are firm but gentle, thankful. We linger for a breath—two. I hear his heartbeat.

  Then he lets go and turns to Veil.

  Veil doesn’t hesitate. He practically launches himself into Ulric’s arms, grinning like he’s won something.

  I let out a soft laugh, warmth blooming in my chest.

  And then—

  Arms wrap around me from behind.

  I stiffen, startled, the top of my head brushing against a chin.

  “…Cat?” I twist around, eyes wide. I never saw her approach. Why—?

  She holds me for another heartbeat, then releases me, taking a small step back, brows faintly knit.

  “…I can’t?” she asks, genuinely uncertain.

  Heat floods my cheeks.

  Cinna’s laughter breaks the moment—bright, unrestrained. I join in, relief bubbling up, and soon Cattleya laughs too, her smile easy, unguarded.

  “…Wait,” Ulric grumbles as he returns, “what’re we laughin’ about?”

  “Captain!” I snap to attention, suddenly energized, saluting sharply. “Thank you for inviting me to the best squad this company’s ever had!”

  I grin, wide and earnest. Cinna and Cattleya mirror the salute. Ulric’s face tightens as he fights tears.

  “…I’m gonna hug you again.”

  I laugh and dart away from the bar—almost skipping, my steps light.

  “Goodnight!” I call back. “See you all tomorrow!”

  Their voices follow me in fond, quiet murmurs as I climb the stairs.

  My heart feels full. Light.

  Back in my room, I pause in front of the small mirror on my dresser and really look at myself.

  I never braided my hair—only tied it back.

  And my green eye was bare the entire night.

  No one said a word.

  Warmth blooms in my cheeks as the realization settles.

  Maybe—

  Just maybe—

  I can be myself here.