The baths, it turned out, needed some maintenance. Because a certain hammer-toting woman had fucked up the path of the stream that fed them. Now, instead of flowing evenly toward the copse of small trees that housed the baths, the stream was busy pooling in various craters.

Belle had immediately offered to help repair the stream, especially since she felt partly responsible for the damage in the first place, but Daivad had shut that idea down quickly. A burly middle-aged man named Grayson tried to share a derisive look with Daivad, amused by the idea of Belle trying to help with a construction project, and Belle was about to explain that she knew some Earthbreaking, until she realized that was likely why Daivad had been so quick to reject her offer. He didn’t want anyone knowing she knew the royal magic. At least not yet.

That was fine, Belle was more than happy to sit back and watch Daivad work. His style of Earthbreaking was so different than Richard’s, both in the actual magic and in the movements that directed it. Both were Masters, but in such unique ways.

It was immediately clear to Belle why Aran had chosen Daivad, those twenty-plus years ago. Earthbreaking was supposed to epitomize Order magic. It was the breaking of nature, of the wild earth that bred monsters and hid from the light, then restructuring it into Order. Taming it. Controlling it.

Richard’s magic was anything but controlled. His movements, his magic, his emotions were all … explosive. No restructuring, just destroying. In its own way, it was beautiful, but Belle could only see its beauty when she became her. The other Belle.

On the other hand, Daivad’s magic was perfectly controlled. Perfectly balanced. Belle would see why Aran had mistaken it for pure Order, but it wasn’t. He used Chaos too, to smooth the edges of his Order. One moment his movements were fluid, like the rolling of a leopard’s shoulders, and the next he may as well have been a stone wall.

It took Belle’s breath away, watching this balance. Mother Dark, she hadn’t seen a Master of movement so skilled at marrying Order and Chaos since Mama T. And all he was doing was shifting some dirt around so the stream would flow normally.

His talent for movement must have been obvious even when he was just a child in an orphanage in South Lushale. It would have to be, for Arantxa Earthbreaker to choose an Inhuman boy to replace her own son as heir.

It took him no time at all to get the stream back under control, and when he was done, he turned and started to say, “Your friend had better—,” but stopped when he saw her face.

“What?” Belle reached up to touch her face and felt tears. “Oh. Sorry.” And she swiped her cheeks.

He just gave her that look of concern mashed with fear, like he was looking at someone who was very sick but also very contagious.

There were two main baths, each surrounded by magically maintained greenery for privacy. Belle loved it. The forest using its body to shield hers from prying eyes. A great stone basin had been set into the ground, full of clear water that reflected the green canopy above. In the center of the basin, beneath the water was inlaid a glowstone the size of a small boulder, with iron bars caging it in.

There were two runes carved into this glowstone, Daivad explained to Belle. One to light the glowstone, the other to heat it. The iron bars, she surmised, were to keep the bather from accidentally burning themself on the stone when heated. He was in the middle of offering to heat it for her when Belle began to pull off her dress, and by the time she’d gotten it over her head, he was gone, leaving only swinging vines across the entrance to the bath.

“Where’d you—?” She realized, suddenly, how silly that had been, and she felt her cheeks heating. Feeling so comfortable in her skin—it was a thing she hadn’t felt in years. Since before Richard.

It was this forest, all its heady magic and headier freedom. It was making her wild. Remaking her wild. And while it was comforting to know her wildness wasn’t dead, that Richard hadn’t managed to kill her completely, it was scary too. There was a reason she’d put her wild ways to rest, six feet deep.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She silently thanked Daivad for removing himself, and hoped she hadn’t made him uncomfortable. She would apologize later, when she didn’t feel slightly sick and very ashamed.

He sent her new guard in, a stern-looking woman named Odelia with a weathered face and a rifle slung across her back. She wore a brown tunic and some well-tailored pants, considering pants were usually made for men, and men with money at that. Odelia said little as she settled onto a large tree root and Belle sank into her cool bath.

First things first, Belle ducked under the water and woke the glowstone’s runes, asked them to heat, please, and quickly. Then she set about the arduous task of taming the beast that was her hair. But while that task was arduous, it still left enough of Belle’s mind unoccupied that it began to wander, and naturally the first thing her mind snagged on was this meeting. And the fact that she was going to have to stand in front of a whole village and convince them to help her save her mother.

So soon after she’d just told the whole horrible story, relived the best and the worst moments of her life, Belle wasn’t ready to think about that yet. So she struck up conversation with Odelia to serve as distraction.

“That’s the first firearm I’ve seen in camp,” Belle nodded at the rifle across Odelia’s lap as she clawed magic-full water through her matted hair, loosening and detangling the curls. Water brush, Mama T had called the technique.

Odelia’s response was a grunt and a suspicious glance. The woman’s magic was a deep, layered green, like the parts of a dark wood that no human ever found. It was beautiful, and if half Belle’s brain wasn’t hung on this looming meeting, she might have been able to read further into the magic, but as it was, all she could think was that cold, distant expression across Odelia’s face was what she would be facing tomorrow night.

Belle imagined a whole camp’s worth of Odelias gathered around her, glaring. She imagined her magic fizzling out, leaving her all alone. All exposed. Nothing but fear prickling up her skin and welling in her eyes. She—

—Had to stop imagining there, because if she didn’t, she knew she would work herself into a panic.

Mama B couldn’t afford for her to panic.

“How long are you charged with the role of shadow?” Belle asked.

“Nightfall,” Odelia grunted.

“Nightfall,” Belle repeated, sounding brighter, lighter, more confident than she felt. “I hope you’re alright to criss and cross all over camp, then, because the bits I’ve seen of this camp have been delicious, and I’m hungry to discover all the rest.”

Belle talked to Odelia while she worked on her hair, picking out any leaves or twigs or bugs that had gotten trapped along the way and making a not-insignificant pile on the edge of her bath. Soon the water was steaming and Belle was sure she was boiled-red from the neck down, just how she liked her baths.

She asked Odelia all kinds of questions—about the woman herself, about the camp, about her friends and family, about the Wolves, and especially about the monsters in this forest. Belle could get an answer out of her about one out of five times, which she considered a great success. As Belle detangled her hair, she detangled Odelia too.

Odelia was marked, as most people in this village would be, Belle was sure. YAR in thick black letters was inked on her forearm, and she made no effort to hide it. Daivad had liberated Yarebren a little less than three years ago. But Belle wouldn’t ask about that.

Odelia, Belle learned, had two adopted children that served as the oil to ease Odelia’s knots (one such oil that Belle herself could have used about now). She couldn’t seem to resist opening her mouth when they were the topic of discussion. Ori, who had just turned nineteen, and Tasha or Tash as she liked to be called, who would be twelve on the third day of Harvest Moon.

Belle let Odelia brag about how Daivad had told her Ori was a natural picking up combat magic, considering he’d never practiced any magic at all before coming to this camp, or how Tash somehow remained so childlike and carefree despite the horrific things she and Ori had been through, all the while Belle just prodded her on with a question here or there until her curls were tangle free and her body was pruney.

But when Belle asked about some soap or else some oils, Odelia refused to fetch her some. After a tiny bit of begging, Odelia said she would take Belle to see Tobei, as he was sure to have everything she’d need for personal grooming.

So Belle gave her dress a quick soak and used her magic to draw out as much of the water as she could, and then they were off.