The bathhouse was thick with steam, fragrant with rose oils and sandalwood. Moonlight filtered through carved lattice windows, gilding the water in silver. Dozens of harem slaves lounged in the vast pool, some chatting, some sulking, all pretending they weren’t watching Ariaxa enter.
Mirel squeezed her hand at the doorway.
“You don’t need to prove anything,” she whispered.
“I do,” Ariaxa murmured back. “To myself.”
She stepped inside.
Heads lifted. Eyes narrowed. Bodies shifted like predators repositioning themselves.
Ariaxa forced her spine straight. She unfastened her robe, let it slide from her shoulders, and stepped into the steaming water. Heat enveloped her, soothing her burns, loosening her tense muscles.
She waded toward an emptier alcove of the pool.
Two slaves drifted closer.
Lira and Sannis.
Both smiling.
Both too close.
Ariaxa’s pulse spiked. She tried to move away, but the water tugged at her legs, slowing her. Their smiles widened.
“Relax,” Lira purred. “We just want to welcome you back.”
Sannis’s knee brushed her thigh beneath the surface.
“You’ve been so tense lately, favorite. Let us help you unwind.”
Ariaxa inhaled sharply. “Stay away from me.”
“But we can’t.” Lira’s eyes gleamed. “You’re the Emperor’s obsession. You’re everyone’s problem now.”
Something shifted under the water.
A faint ripple.
A glint.
A shard of black obsidian pressed against her hip.
Ariaxa gasped. “No—!”
Lira lunged first, her hand snapping around Ariaxa’s wrist beneath the surface while the second woman drove the shard toward her ribs.
Ariaxa twisted violently. The blade sliced across her side, sharp enough to sting white-hot. Blood spilled instantly, curling through the water in blooming red clouds.
She screamed.
“Hold her down!” Sannis snarled.
Ariaxa thrashed, trying to wrench free, but Lira seized her hair, yanking her underwater. Obsidian flashed again. A stab of pain tore along her shoulder.
Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred.
She kicked wildly, breaking the surface for a split second—
“Help—!”
A hand clamped over her mouth and shoved her back under.
The water muffled everything. Her heart hammered. Her limbs spasmed. Sannis’s weight shoved down on her legs, trapping her.
They were going to drown her.
They were actually—
The door slammed open.
A roar shook the bathhouse.
“ARIA!”
A blur crashed into the water—heavy steps, splashing, steel singing out of its sheath.
Riven.
Riven leaped straight into the pool fully armed except for his discarded shirt, muscles slick with steam and fury. Water exploded around him as he grabbed Lira by the hair and yanked her backward with inhuman strength.
She surfaced screaming.
He didn’t give her time.
His sword flashed once.
Clean.
Lira’s head fell back, eyes wide in shock, blood trailing into the water as her body collapsed.
The pool erupted into shrieks.
Slaves scrambled out in a frenzy, slipping, clawing, fleeing.
Sannis let go of Ariaxa instantly and tried to bolt across the water—Riven hurled his blade after her. She ducked, vanishing behind frantic bodies, slipping into a side corridor.
Riven didn’t pursue. He spun instead, plunging toward Ariaxa.
She was barely above the surface, coughing, shaking, blood blooming from three wounds.
Riven reached her in two strides and caught her around the waist, dragging her into his chest. “Easy, easy—breathe—breathe, Ariaxa—”
Her fingers fisted in his wet shoulder. She sobbed and gasped, her voice shredded. “They—the blade—Riven, I—”
“I know,” he said fiercely. “I saw.”
He held her close, one arm braced around her back, the other steadying her legs. His chest rose and fell harshly, his temple pressed to her temple as if he needed to feel she was real, alive.
Warm water swirled with red around them. Steam clung to her bare skin. Her body trembled violently against him; blood trickled down his forearm.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Do not close your eyes. Do not you dare.”
Her breathing hitched. “R-Riven… please… don’t let them—”
“No one will touch you again,” he growled.
His hand slid to the back of her head, steadying her. “I swear it.”
Ariaxa sagged against him, naked and shaking, forehead pressed to his throat as she tried not to collapse. She could hear his heartbeat.
Rapid. Furious. Terrified.
“Riven…” she whispered, voice cracking. “It hurts—”
“I know.” His voice broke on the words. “I know, little sun.”
He scooped her into his arms fully, lifting her from the water. Droplets streamed down her body, her long hair plastering to his chest. Her blood smeared across his torso in sharp crimson streaks.
He carried her toward the exit—
But the bathhouse doors slammed open again.
The air seemed to freeze.
Kaedan stood in the doorway.
Soaked in rain. Armor half-clasped. His eyes burning the color of fresh-spilled blood.
He took in the scene in one instant:
Ariaxa naked, bleeding, limp in Riven’s arms.
Riven shirtless, holding her protectively.
The water stained pink with her blood.
The dead slave floating face-down in the corner.
Kaedan’s jaw flexed.
His fangs slowly descended.
“Who,” he whispered, “did this to her?”
The bathhouse trembled.
Riven did not release Ariaxa. He only shifted her closer, shielding her body with his own. “She was attacked. Two slaves—one is dead. The other escaped.”
Kaedan’s gaze snapped to Riven’s arm wrapped around Ariaxa’s bare waist, her breasts pressed to his skin, her blood soaking his chest.
The Emperor’s rage went volcanic.
“Put. Her. Down.”
Riven’s grip tightened.
Ariaxa, dazed, clung harder to Riven’s arm as the world tilted around her.
Kaedan’s eyes widened—then narrowed into something murderous, feral, and barely human.
“Ariaxa,” he growled, voice cracking like stone under pressure, “step away from him.”
But she couldn’t. She was shaking too hard. Her vision blurred.
And Kaedan saw that too.
Saw her clinging to another man.
Saw her bleeding.
Saw red.
The Emperor took one step forward—
And the ground vibrated with the force of his fury.
Kaedan arrives to find Ariaxa naked, bleeding, clinging to Riven’s arm — and his rage is volcanic.