Where Ashes and Oaths Collide

Chapter 77: Even

Luz moved around the tub, kneeling in front of Amelia so he could look directly into her green eyes. The steam curled between them, softening his features, but the hardness in his jaw remained. “No one touches you,” he said, each word measured and final. “Not while I am breathing.” He reached out, his large hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the steel in his voice. “I know,” she said with a steady look. “So, we are even. I treat you like a person and you do the same for me.” Her hand moved to his chest. “Now will you join me in this tub already? There is plenty of space.”

Luz let out a short, huffed breath– something close to a laugh, though his expression remained soft. He looked down at Amelia’s hand resting against his chest, his heart eating steady and strong beneath her palm. “Even,” he repeated, the word tasting strange on his tongue. He had not been treated like a person in a very long time. Not by the Santo’s Order, not by Mestre Escuro, not by the world. He stood slowly, shedding the last of his clothes with practiced ease, his scarred body stepping into the water with a low groan of relief. The heat hit his skin like a benediction. He settled into the tub beside her, the water rising to his chest, and pulled her back against him until she was cradled between his legs.

“You are right, I suppose we are even,” Luz murmured, his chin resting on Amelia’s shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Exactly,” she said with a soft smile. “Equals. I want to build a future with you, Luz. We are in this together.” Luz tightened his arms around her, his grip almost desperate for a fleeting second before he caught himself. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of rosemary and warm skin. “Together,” he whispered. He repeated it like a mantra, something to anchor himself to the present, to the reality of her warmth against his chest. His fingers traced slow, idle circles on her stomach beneath the water.

The weight of the world– Mestre Escuro’s shadow, the mission, the unknown spiritual darkness inside Luz– felt lighter here, in this small stone room. “I have spent so long fighting alone,” he said, his voice muffled against Amelia’s skin. “I forget that a person could actually stand beside you. Not behind you, not in front of you. Beside you.” He lifted his head, his amber eyes searching hers. “I am not sure I will ever get used to it,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. “The quiet. The being able to just… exist.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes closed, and for a long moment, he just breathed, letting her presence fill the space where the darkness usually resided.

The darkness was quiet now– dormant, held at bay by the simple, overwhelming reality of Amelia. “But I will learn,” Luz said against her skin. “I will learn how to be what you need me to be.” He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. A question formed there, something he seemed to be fighting himself to ask. “Amelia,” he started, then stopped. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight in the water, the movement sending ripples across the surface. “If I ever–” he did not finish the sentence. He could not. The words If I ever lose myself again or If I ever have to leave you were too heavy, too jagged to let pass his lips. Instead, he pressed his mouth to hers– a slow, deep kiss that tasted of salt and lavender and something achingly honest.

It was not the kiss of a commander or a traitor. It was just Luz, holding onto the only thing that made him feel real. When he pulled away, his breathing was uneven. He rested his forehead against Amelia’s again, his hands still resting on her waist beneath the water. “I am staying right here,” he said, more to himself than to her. “As long as I can.” The steam continued to rise around them, curling in lazy patterns toward the ceiling. For a moment, the only sound was the gentle drip of water from the wooden spoon onto the stone floor. “That is all I can ask,” she said contently. “No one gets forever. I will settle for as long as possible.” His jaw tightened, a flicker of something sharp and painful crossing his features before he smoothed it away.

Amelia’s words were honest– painfully so. The stripped away the comfortable lie Luz had been telling himself, the one where he believed he could somehow negotiate with fate. “As long as possible,” he repeated quietly. He squeezed his waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “Then I will make sure every second of it counts.” He shifted, his hand moving from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with reverence. The amber in his eyes seemed to glow, warmed by the candlelight and the heat of the bath. “I used to dream about things like this,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Yeah?” she said as she leaned against him. “Tell me about that.”

Luz leaned his head back against the stone rim of the tub, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he searched for the words. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth– the kind of smile that had once made the village children chase his horse. “It was not grand,” he said, his voice soft and nostalgic. “Not like the stories the bards sing about kings and castles. It was just… a house. Somewhere with a garden, maybe. A place where the wind did not carry the smell of iron or smoke.” He traced a slow line down her arm with his thumb. “I dreamed about waking up and not having to check my blade first. About sitting at a table and knowing that the person across from me was not there because of an order, or because they were afraid of what I could do. Just because they wanted to be there.”