The dining hall buzzed with its usual evening chaos—snatches of laughter, the scrape of chairs, and the clatter of cutlery on plates—but it all blurred into the background as I slid into my usual seat beside Eskil. The warm scent of roasted meats mingled with the sharper tang of pickled vegetables, but my appetite was lukewarm at best. My mind was still circling the training session with Fedyor I had earlier. Every strike, every stumble, replayed in my mind as I tried to piece together what I could have done even better.

"Did Fedyor survive your session today, or should I send flowers to his next of kin?" Eskil asked without looking up from his plate, shoving a piece of roasted beet into his mouth.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. "He survived. Barely."

Eskil paused, raising an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "Tragic. Ravka's most charming Corporalnik, once again brought to his knees by a Fjerdan. How will he ever recover his pride?"

"He shouldn't have called me one of the best fighters he knows if he didn't mean it," I shot back, leaning lazily on the edge of the table. My daily sessions with Fedyor had been paying off—I was sharpening my skills and growing more confident with every sparring match. But it wasn't just that. I was starting to feel more like myself again—like I'd finally slipped back into my own skin. I was more at ease, more comfortable in my surroundings. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged.

Eskil chuckled. "Ah, so you've let it go to your head."

"Obviously," I said, grinning. "Though he also suggested I spar with Ivan next, so if anyone deserves flowers, it's me."

Eskil's eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. "Ivan? I'm not sure a few weeks with Fedyor is enough to prepare you for that. You'd better watch your back—and your ribs."

"I know," I sighed. "And no matter what Fedyor says, he's still wiping the floor with me half the time." Alisa caught my attention before Eskil could say anything else. Across the table, she was absently dragging her fork through a mound of potatoes, her eyes flickering to the dining hall doors every few seconds.

"What's up with her?" I asked, nodding toward her with a small tilt of my head.

Eskil followed my gaze, frowning. "Good question. She's been doing that since we sat down."

"Alisa?" I called, leaning forward. "Why are you fidgeting like you expect a flock of Volcra to burst in?"

Alisa jumped, her fork clattering against her plate. She flustered for a second before brushing off my comment. "What? No, that's... It's nothing."

"Are you sure?" Eskil asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because you've glanced at that door eleven times since we sat down."

But Alisa didn't even seem to hear him. As if summoned by her will alone, the heavy wooden doors creaked open. A gust of cold air followed, carrying the metallic tang of snow and the chatter of Grisha in travel-worn keftas. Among them, I spotted a familiar figure—Nadia, her dark braid loose and dusted with snow.

Alisa's chair screeched back before I could blink. "Nadia!" she squealed, darting toward the group like a shot arrow.

She turned just in time to see Alisa darting toward her. A grin broke across her face, and she braced herself as Alisa practically collided with her, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders. Nadia's laughter was soft, almost disbelieving, as she cupped Alisa's face and kissed her, unhurried and completely oblivious to the dining hall's gawking audience.

Eskil leaned closer, his voice low. "Well, that explains it."

"About time," I muttered, a grin tugging at my lips as I watched the two of them.

Hand in hand, Alisa and Nadia returned to our table, joined by another familiar face—a tall Inferni with windburned cheeks, Nadia's best friend Marie. As they approached, a group of Summoners at the next table rose to greet them, exchanging hugs and congratulations.

"It's good to see you," I said warmly as they slid into seats opposite me and Eskil. "Congratulations on finishing your training."

Alisa and Nadia sat as close as humanly possible, their hands still intertwined on the table between them.

"So," Eskil began, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Are we officially celebrating this long-awaited romance?"

Alisa's cheeks flushed a shade darker, but she tilted her chin up with mock defiance. "Yes, we are."

Nadia laughed softly, brushing a stray hair from Alisa's face. "And you two get partial credit."

"It's true!" Alisa giggled happily. "Without you, I'd never have had the courage to finally tell her how I feel!"

"It was the soppiest love letter of all time," Nadia teased, her voice light with affection. "She knows how to get me."

The table buzzed with warmth, the conversation flowing easily. Alisa and Nadia shared stories from their training—tales of overzealous instructors and half-burnt sparring mats—and the updates on base life quickly followed.

The dining hall's warmth had started to wane as the meal drew to a close, the conversations around us shifting into quiet murmurs or fading entirely as people drifted off. Eskil leaned on the table, tapping idly at the rim of his goblet, while Alisa leaned her head against Nadia's shoulder, eyes half-closed.

"You're quiet tonight," Eskil remarked, his tone casual but curious as he glanced at me.

I shrugged, tracing the edge of my cup with a fingertip. "Just thinking."

"Careful, you might hurt yourself," he quipped with a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling when I shot him a glare.

Alisa perked up, pushing herself upright with exaggerated effort. "Thinking about what?"

"Just… something the Darkling said to me. He's been asking a lot about Fjerda lately. If I miss my house, if I'm sad I won't see it again…" I frowned. "It's a bit strange."

Alisa tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Why is it strange?"

"Well," I said slowly, "he wasn't pleased to learn I had fond memories of my old home. So it's… odd that he's bringing it up so often now."

Eskil hummed, swirling the dregs of his drink thoughtfully. "Interesting," he said. "He doesn't seem like the nostalgic type."

"Exactly," I said, my frown deepening. "I don't know what he's trying to get at, but it feels… deliberate."

Across the table, Marie pulled her Kefta tighter around herself with a dramatic shiver. "My bones are still frozen," she muttered, glancing toward the door. "You know what would feel amazing right now? The banya."

Alisa's face lit up immediately, her fatigue forgotten. "Oh, Saints, yes! My shoulders are killing me from this morning."

Eskil snorted. "This morning? Didn't I see you napping under a tree for most of it?"

Alisa whipped her head toward him, her mock glare as sharp as a blade. "Excuse me, some of us actually work hard."

"Right," Eskil drawled, barely suppressing his grin as he leaned back in his chair.

I chuckled and stood, stretching out the stiffness in my legs. "Why not?" I said, smiling as I reached for my gloves. "If I'm going to get beaten up by Ivan tomorrow, I'd rather do it without today's bruises hanging around."

Eskil grinned, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Enjoy that. I'll go straight to bed, embracing the beauty of not being bruised at all." He tipped his head back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Alisa was already halfway to the door, her grin wide and infectious. "You're missing out," she called back, her laughter trailing behind her as she vanished into the hallway.

…

The night air was crisp as the four of us made our way to the banya, the faint scent of pine and damp earth clinging to the breeze. The moon hung low and heavy, casting a silver glow over the cobbled paths leading to the large wooden structure. "The air in the banya was warm and heavy with steam, wrapping around us like a second skin as soon as we disrobed.

It was quieter than I'd expected. Only the faint hiss of water and the muted hum of distant voices broke the stillness. A series of interconnected rooms led us through varying levels of heat and steam until we found an unoccupied space. Alisa peeked inside first, glancing over her shoulder before gesturing for us to follow.

"This one's empty!" she said, her voice muffled slightly by the damp air.

We stepped inside, and Nadia let out an appreciative hum as she scanned the room. The cedar-scented air wrapped around us, soothing and rich, while the wooden benches gleamed softly under the dim lantern light.

"This is true luxury," Nadia said, settling onto a bench and stretching her legs out in front of her. "So much better than the banya at the Little Palace. All that chaos and noise…"

Marie, plopping down beside her, nodded enthusiastically. "You could never find a quiet moment there. This? This is perfect."

I adjusted my mat as I settled across from them, the heat already easing the tension in my shoulders. I wondered what Nadia would think of the private banya in the Darkling's chambers. Spacious, serene, with its own steaming pool and the promise of absolute solitude—that was true luxury. But I bit my tongue. No one needed to know about that.

Marie leaned back, sighing contentedly. "It's good to be here," she said, her voice softer now. "Even better to finally be done with training."

"And now you're stuck with us again. No more Little Palace for you," Alisa said, her smile warm and genuine.

"Gladly," Nadia replied with a grin, curling closer to Alisa on the bench. The way her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened made it clear she was exactly where she wanted to be.

I stretched my legs out in front of me, the heat of the banya seeping into my muscles, and let out a blissful sigh. Back in Fjerda, even the idea of this moment would have felt unthinkable. Everything there was bound up in notions of chastity, modesty, and restraint—especially for women. Letting someone, anyone, apart from your husband or lover see you bare? Saints forbid. Even after marriage, your body was treated more like a duty than something you could take comfort in sharing.

But here, everything felt different. Nights like these with Alisa, and sometimes Eskil too, had changed me in ways I didn't even realize at first. What had once felt shameful now felt natural, even freeing.

Marie turned her sharp gaze to me. A spark of mischief lit her expression, and I could practically see the words forming before she opened her mouth. "Speaking of training," she began lightly, her tone carrying that casual air that meant trouble was coming, "how's it going? I can't imagine spending every day with the Darkling."

My moment of peace shattered like glass under a hammer. Alisa perked up instantly, her grin sharpening as she exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Nadia. I groaned internally. Of course. She'd been waiting weeks for this. She had been holding back, occasionally dropping hints or trying to pry out tidbits. But now that she had reinforcements? I was doomed.

"Speaking of that," Alisa said, her voice practically dripping with glee, "Klara's been very secretive about him." She was so delighted I couldn't even summon enough irritation to be mad.

"Especially," she continued, leaning forward like she was about to deliver the punchline to a very good joke, "about where she's been living."

"Living?" Marie's brow furrowed in mock surprise, her tone a little too innocent. "She doesn't live with the rest of you?"

I snorted, leaning back against the warm wood of the wall. "Come on. At least have the decency not to pretend you didn't already get the full story in Alisa's letters to Nadia."

Marie smirked, unabashed. "Alright, fine," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Then spill. People are saying you live together. With the Darkling."

"We don't live together!" The words burst out of me louder than I intended.

"You don't live anywhere in the main building!" Alisa pointed out, throwing her hands up. "You live in his building. You know, the one with his reception room, his war room, and… what was the other thing? Oh, I know—his private quarters."

Here we go. My face burned hotter than the banya's steam as I struggled to compose myself. "We don't live together," I repeated firmly. "Yes, we're in the same building, but we're not even that close. We have completely separate quarters. The only reason I'm there is because of the heightened security." It wasn't a complete lie, but I still felt a pang of guilt.

Alisa arched an eyebrow, her amusement unabated. "Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced.

Marie leaned in, resting her chin on her palm as she studied me. "You realize you're just making it sound more suspicious, right?"

"It's the truth!" I insisted, though my burning cheeks weren't helping my case.

Nadia, reached out to give my knee a sympathetic pat. "They're just teasing," she said kindly, though the way her lips twitched told me she wasn't entirely innocent either.

Marie, however, waved a dismissive hand, her expression turning theatrical. "Alright, alright, whatever," she said, her voice dripping with mock disinterest. "Let's get to the important part. What's it like spending every day with the sexiest man in Ravka?"

Nadia gasped, pretending to be scandalized, while Alisa burst into laughter.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Marie!"

"What? He is!" Marie said, her voice pitching higher as she sat up straighter. "Have you seen him?! When he looks at me, it's like my brain just stops working. I never know if I want to run to my mommy or strip down and kneel in front of him!"

My jaw dropped. Nadia nearly fell off the bench laughing. "Saints, Marie, what is wrong with you?"

But Marie wasn't done. "If he asked me to jump out a sandskiff straight into the Shadow Fold, I'd ask if he wanted me to do a backflip on the way down. I'm not joking! The man could ruin my life and I'd thank him for it!" Even Marie herself dissolved into laughter at that point, the rest of us already in tears.

When we finally caught our breath, Nadia chimed in, her cheeks still flushed from laughing. "Marie definitely needs help, but she's not entirely wrong. I almost forgot how gorgeous he was, but it's almost… inhuman. And the way he stands there, all dark and mysterious, like he knows exactly how attractive he is?"

"Yes!" Marie agreed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "It's like he knows exactly how we feel!"

"Well, he does," I said, drawing their attention instantly. "He absolutely is aware of the effect he has on people. Trust me. He knows. And what's worse? I'm quite sure he enjoys it."

"I knew it!" Marie perked up, leaning in. "What makes you so sure?"

"Ehm, I… I could swear he likes to… make me blush."

Marie leaned back, laughing. "Oh, I bet he does."

"It's not funny," I said, though I couldn't help laughing too. "He'll say something just vague enough to sound normal, but there's this… tone. This look." I waved my hand, trying to find the right words. "It's infuriating. And he knows it."

"So you're saying he's flirting with you?" Alisa's grin grew wide and wicked.

"No!" I insisted, though my cheeks betrayed me, heating instantly. "He… He's just trying to see if I can stay calm under pressure during training. That's all. He's doing it on purpose to make me uncomfortable."

"Poor Klara. Tormented by the hottest man in Ravka." Alisa teased, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"He's not that hot," I muttered, fiddling with my fingers as I looked anywhere but at them.

There was a beat of silence before all three of them burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Liar!" Alisa managed to gasp out between giggles. "You couldn't even look at us while saying that!"

"Fine," I groaned, throwing up my hands in defeat. "Fine. He's attractive. He's fucking hot. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Marie said, her smirk so smug I almost regretted giving in. "But seriously, what is he like as a teacher? I mean, really. Is he as intense as he is when he's working? Is he cruel to you?"

"Cruel? No, absolutely not. He's… intense, yes," I said carefully. "But not in the way you'd think. He's not all fire and shouting. It's quieter. It's like… when he gives you his full attention, it's overwhelming. He doesn't just look at you; it's like he sees everything about you."

Marie shivered theatrically. "Saints. I'd crumble."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Honestly, it's terrifying at first," I admitted. "But then you realize he's not looking to pick you apart. He's just…" I paused, searching for the right words. "He's deliberate. Everything he does, every word he says, feels like it has weight. And he's kind. Strict, but kind. He pushes me, but he knows exactly how far to push."

"Is it working?" Nadia asked.

"It is. For the first time, I feel like I'm in control of my shadows. Really in control. And… it's all because of him."

"That's amazing," Nadia said sincerely, her own smile warm. "But… are you not afraid of him? I know he cares about Grisha, but he's still pretty terrifying. I can never tell what he really thinks. Do you trust him?"

The question gave me pause. I turned it over in my mind, the words coming slower. "I think I do," I said finally. "I'm not sure I should, but I do. He saved me—he didn't have to, but he did. He took me in, trained me, gave me a life I never thought I could have. He knew the king wouldn't be happy about another shadow summoner, and he knew most of the Grisha wouldn't either. But he still did it." I hesitated, feeling a pang of something I couldn't quite name. "I just wish he trusted me. There's always this… distance. Like he's only letting me see the part of him he wants me to see."

When I looked up, Marie was staring at me, her mouth slightly open.

"Girl," she said, breaking the silence. "You're crazy about him."

"Stop it, Marie!" Nadia scolded, though she was laughing too. "Leave her alone."

"Why?" Marie said with a shrug. "There's nothing wrong with it! She's just not very good at hiding it."

"I'm not hiding anything!" I protested, my voice rising in pitch. "There's nothing to hide!"

Shit. That's not helping. Usually, I was good at being cryptic—so good I'm pretty sure I sometimes confuse the Darkling himself—but something about the heat of the banya, or maybe just the confidence in Marie's voice, had me off my game.

Marie, of course, wasn't letting up. "Well, if it's any consolation," she said, leaning back with a sly smile, "I think he likes you. And not just in a 'you're one of my Grisha' way."

"He doesn't," I said much more calmly now. "He's just my teacher and my superior, that's all."

"That doesn't make him blind," Marie shot back, her smirk deepening. "Or numb."

I didn't say anything, but I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips. I knew she was wrong, but the idea lingered. It was ridiculous, but it also felt warm in a way I didn't want to admit.

The room filled with laughter again, their teasing filling the space like the steam around us and once again I felt at ease—surrounded by friends who felt like family, the weight on my shoulders a little lighter.

…

Everything was quiet as I slipped into the Darkling's quarters, my footsteps soft against the polished floors. The faint glow of moonlight poured in through the high windows, casting long, silvery streaks across the room. I moved carefully, the weight of the day still heavy in my body. My mind wandered as I passed the sitting room, glancing briefly at the soft shadows pooling near the tall windows.

The sky outside was a rich, endless black, the stillness of the night was comforting, and I found myself taking a deep breath. I loved moments like these, alone and wrapped in quiet.

Then, without warning, the door next to me swung open.

I froze, startled as a wave of warm, cedar-scented steam rolled into the hallway. And then he stepped out.

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes dropped instinctively.

The towel hung low on his hips, slung so precariously it seemed almost criminal. The sharp lines of his abdomen formed a solid V that disappeared beneath the towel to another outline that I absolutely shouldn't have noticed. I swallowed hard, my breath hitching as heat flooded my face.

His pale skin glistened under the faint light, smooth in some places but interrupted by a tapestry of scars differing in size and intensity. The muscles of his torso were lean and defined, his shoulders broad but not bulky. Droplets of water clung to his pale skin, tracing maddening paths down his chest and over the curve of his shoulders. Another drop of water slid down the line of his jaw, disappearing into the shadowy hollow of his neck.

I was staring. Saints, I was staring.

"Something on your mind, Klara?"