BENEATH THE STEAM

 

Valkhara

The water hissed the moment it touched my skin.

Not because it was too hot. Because I was still burning.

The stone tub was massive, carved from obsidian and sunk into the center of my private chamber like a sacred altar. Steam curled upward in thick plumes, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood salts, ashroot oil, and something spiced I couldn’t name. Crimson flower petals floated along the surface like little corpses.

The scent was supposed to calm me. It didn’t.

I sank beneath the surface slowly, letting the heat wrap around my battered muscles, watching the water distort the light overhead. My body ached. My ribs throbbed from the beast’s kick. A bruise was forming down my left hip. I could feel where the claws had grazed me nothing deep, but enough to sting in the scalding water.

And I liked that.

Pain reminded me that I survived.

It reminded me that the first Trial hadn’t claimed me like it was meant to. That I had stepped into their arena and painted it with the blood of the monster they sent to kill me.

It should’ve scared them.

Instead, it made them curious.

I could feel it even here. In this room.

Their eyes.

Their questions.

Their hunger.

I let my head fall back against the edge of the tub, wet hair clinging to my shoulders and collarbone as I stared at the ceiling carved with old runes. They pulsed faintly in the candlelight, reacting to the blood still crusted beneath my fingernails.

They wanted more of it.

And under the warmth, under the steam, under the physical pain I’d earned with blade and will there it was again.

That pull.

Subtle, but impossible to ignore. A thread under my skin, beneath my ribs, curling low in my spine like it was waiting to snap tight. It wasn’t a presence exactly. It was a direction a pull toward something I couldn’t name.

No. Not something. Someones.

I sat up slowly, gripping the edge of the tub with slick hands. My chest tightened. My breath caught. And I felt it.

Not one bond.

Three.

Each tugging on me from a different angle, like strings wrapped through my soul and pulled taut in opposite directions. Not soft. Not gentle. Not romantic.

Predatory. Demanding. Inevitable.

I exhaled through my teeth, closing my eyes as I pressed a palm to my sternum.

“What the fuck is this,” I whispered.

It didn’t answer.

The pull only grew sharper, more focused, like something just outside the walls of this room wanted to rip through and claim me.

But I wouldn’t let it.

I hadn’t fought to earn my place here just to be dragged into some ancient mating bullshit. I didn’t come to this Court to be owned. I came to win.

And yet...

The bond coiled tighter.

Heat bloomed under my skin low, deep, spreading through my core with a sharp ache that made my thighs clench beneath the water. I bit the inside of my cheek and cursed.

It wasn’t fair.

The magic inside me should’ve been sealed. My people had been killed for what I was. And now that same blood had the audacity to wake up at the scent of a few strangers?

No.

I wouldn’t let it.

Not yet.

I stood quickly, water sloshing up over the edge of the tub as I stepped out, dragging steam behind me like smoke. My body steamed in the cold air of the chamber, water rolling down my thighs as I wrapped myself in one of the thick black robes provided and paced to the fire pit.

A meal waited for me on the table. Red meat. Salted bread. Fruits split open and bleeding juice onto a silver platter.

I didn’t sit. I ripped a chunk of meat with my teeth and chewed while staring out the open balcony doors into the mist-heavy night.

Somewhere out there…

One of them had to be feeling it too.

One of them knew.

Or worse more than one did.

I sat on the bed, cross-legged, robe damp and clinging to my skin. I didn’t call for the maid. I didn’t ask for wine. I just sat in silence, breathing through the sharp ache under my ribs and pretending I didn’t feel the urge to run toward it.

The Court celebrated beneath my window. Laughter echoed off the stone walls. Toasts were raised. Names were whispered. Mine among them.

But I didn’t care.

I had no interest in fangs and politics and men who thought mating was enough to make me submit.

So I stayed in.

And that was when I heard it.

A footstep.

Soft. Barely there. But real.

Then another.

I turned my head slowly toward the door. My body stilled. The bond in my spine flared, hotter now, almost vibrating.

There was no knock.

Just weight.

Presence.

Something, someone stood on the other side of that door.

I rose from the bed, barefoot, silent, stepping across the stone until I stood only inches away from it. I pressed my palm flat against the dark wood.

The pull sharpened.

I didn’t open it.

And they didn’t leave.

For a long moment, we just… hovered there. Two creatures with something humming between them that shouldn’t exist.

Then they walked away.

No sound. No words. Just... gone.

But I knew.

I didn’t have proof.

But I knew.

One of them had come to find me.

And they weren’t ready to face me yet.

Good.

Neither was I.

The next morning, I dressed in black. Tight leather. No cloak. No jewelry. Just steel and scar tissue.

The Trials continued.

I walked alone down the arched hallway, ignoring the stares, the whispers. Servants moved around me like shadows. I didn’t look at them. I didn’t speak. I followed the scent of blood and tension until I found the viewing corridor.

It was carved from obsidian and gold-veined stone, the walls lined with massive windows overlooking the arena below. I pressed my hand to the glass.

Another challenger stood below.

Tall. Built like a battering ram. Confidence radiated off him like heat. He raised his sword to the crowd. They cheered.

Fools.

The gate opened.

The beast released into the pit was taller than the last. Leaner. Fast. Its tail lashed once, twice, then it launched.

He barely got his sword up in time.

The fight was fast.

Messy.

Ugly.

He bled within seconds.

He screamed.

His blade dropped.

The creature lunged again claws through stomach, teeth to throat.

The crowd gasped.

Blood splattered the glass in front of me, hot and wet and fast.

His body twitched once.

Then didn’t move again.

I blinked once. Slowly.

The scent reached me before the silence did. And I just watched. Calm. Still. Unmoved.

Because that?

That wasn’t strength.

That was arrogance dressed in metal.

And arrogance always dies early.