Chcapter 18

  The morning air was cold.

  Not the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, but the kind that made everything feel still. Stiff. Like the air around them was holding its breath.

  Elena sat cross-legged in the corner of the tent, her cloak wrapped tight around her as if she could hide inside it. Her eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, stared blankly at the ground. Every so often, her gaze flickered down to the burn across her arm—an angry smear of pink with the edges still slightly raw.

  She didn’t look at Ember. Not once.

  Ember had been awake for hours. She hadn’t even pretended to sleep. She had just… watched her. Watched the girl who still sat beside her last night and held her so tightly, now flinch ever so slightly when their shoulders brushed by mistake.

  It broke her.

  So she tried. Tried to fill the silence.

  She made breakfast—burned the edges of the bread because she was distracted, but still buttered it and added dried berries like Elena liked.

  Elena didn’t touch it.

  “Hey,” Ember said softly, crouching beside her. “I… was thinking about those weird birds we saw yesterday. The ones with, like, fluffy eyebrows?”

  No answer.

  “They looked like grumpy librarians.”

  Still nothing. Elena’s fingers fidgeted around the edges of her sleeve.

  Ember tried again. “Okay, well… what if we kept one? Like a pet? Name it Feathers McJudgy?”

  That almost got a flicker of a smile. But it was gone before it really arrived.

  Ember’s throat ached. The silence was turning into a weight.

  She sat down slowly beside her, letting their sides barely touch. When Elena didn’t pull away, Ember took it as a tiny, fragile permission.

  “Elena,” she murmured, “can I… can I see it again? Please?”

  Elena hesitated. Her grip on the cloak tightened. Then—without a word—she extended her arm.

  The mark had started to scab over in places. It wasn’t long, but it was wide, like fire had bloomed in a careless streak across her skin. Ember stared at it, guilt wrapping around her lungs like chains.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “I didn’t… I would never hurt you like that on purpose.”

  Elena didn’t speak.

  Ember reached out. Her fingers hovered just above the wound. Then, without thinking—driven more by guilt and instinct than logic—she leaned forward and kissed the scar, gently.

  Elena jolted.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, flustered, her voice a little too loud.

  Ember blinked, then met her eyes with a raw kind of honesty. “Kissing it better.”

  “That’s not how healing works,” Elena muttered, cheeks red.

  “Maybe not,” Ember said, brushing her thumb gently just below the mark, “but it’s all I can do. Right now.”

  There was silence again, but this time… it was softer.

  “You’re not some magic healer,” Elena said under her breath.

  “No,” Ember admitted. “I’m a walking disaster.”

  That made Elena finally look at her.

  “I scare you now,” Ember added, her voice breaking on the edge of the sentence.

  “…Yeah,” Elena said honestly. “A little.”

  Ember closed her eyes.

  “But I’m also scared of you,” Elena continued quietly. “Scared of what you mean to me. Scared of how much it hurt when you lost control. And scared that I might break if it happens again.”

  Ember’s eyes opened, startled.

  “But,” Elena said slowly, “I’m also trying to understand. Because I know that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real you.”

  “I want to be safe,” Ember whispered. “I want to make you feel safe. Not like this… monster the stories warned about.”

  “Then keep doing this,” Elena said. “Talking to me. Being here. Don’t vanish. Don’t push me away when you’re scared.”

  “You don’t deserve this,” Ember muttered, glancing down at the mark again.

  “No,” Elena agreed softly. “But I still want you.”

  Ember let out a shaky breath. “Even if I mess up again?”

  Elena nodded slowly. “You’ll make it up again, too.”

  They sat there in silence once more—this time with less cold, less stiffness in the air. Ember looked at Elena’s arm again and gently pulled her sleeve down to cover the scar.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “I know,” Elena whispered.

  And this time, when their hands touched, Elena didn’t pull away.

  The air was crisp, early sun spilling golden warmth through the cracks in the tree canopy above as the two girls prepared to set out again.

  Elena struggled with the straps of her pack, her arm still stiff. As she adjusted it, she hissed in pain and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  “Hey—don’t do that,” Ember said quickly, stepping in.

  “I’ve got it,” Elena muttered stubbornly, shifting the weight to her uninjured side. But her grimace betrayed her.

  “You don’t got it,” Ember said gently, her fingers already reaching out. “Here. Let me.”

  Without waiting for permission, she adjusted the pack for her, soft and efficient, careful not to brush the burn. Elena didn’t resist. Her eyes flicked sideways, studying Ember’s focused face.

  “You don’t have to keep fussing over me.”

  “I do,” Ember said simply. “I’m not letting you carry pain I caused without at least helping shoulder it.”

  Elena opened her mouth to argue, but… she didn’t. Instead, she said quietly, “Thanks.”

  Ember gave her a small, crooked smile.

  With that, the two set off again.

  According to Elena, their next stop was a place called Raqs Town—somewhere down a mostly straight trail carved between tall, whispering pines and winding through low hills. There were no beasts that followed, no birds that shrieked, only the occasional rustle in the grass or a flutter of wings above them.

  But what did come, steadily growing as the hours passed, was sound.

  A loud, rhythmic thump that vibrated faintly in the soles of their feet.

  At first, they thought it was thunder. Then maybe drumming. But as they got closer, it became unmistakable—music, deep and full-bodied, pulsing through the air like the heartbeat of the earth.

  “Is that…?” Elena asked, tilting her head.

  “Sounded like drums,” Ember muttered. “Big ones.”

  Curiosity bloomed between them.

  As the trees thinned out, the sight of the town revealed itself—a huge, colorful sprawl of lantern-lit buildings and woven fabric banners flapping in the wind. The entire village seemed to sway, its cobblestone paths echoing with the beat of a steady, joyful rhythm.

  The buildings looked hand-carved and painted with bold, earthy colors. People danced everywhere—on the streets, on balconies, on rooftops.

  And not just people.

  “Wait…” Ember blinked.

  Walking dogs, cats with scarves tied around their necks, raccoons laughing in packs, a trio of tall peacocks twirling fans. It was like someone had opened a storybook and let all the pages come to life.

  “It’s a town of animals,” Elena whispered, eyes wide.

  “No,” Ember said, a half-smile tugging at her lips, “It’s a town of dancing animals.”

  Before she could say anything more, Elena was already taking off ahead. Her dark hair fluttered as she ran toward the music, laughing for the first time in days.

  Ember didn’t follow. Not yet.

  She just stood there, watching Elena twirl once in the middle of the crowd, arms lifted, face radiant with joy.

  She’s smiling again, Ember thought, her chest aching in the best way.

  Then she saw him—a tall, broad-shouldered creature with golden fur, possibly some kind of jackal or wolf, twirling Elena by the wrist and pulling her into the dance.

  The laughter on her face didn’t fade, but Ember’s own expression froze.

  The smile dropped. The packs dropped.

  Nope.

  Without a word, Ember marched straight into the crowd.

  The drumming swelled around her, pulsing like heat in her chest. Elena caught sight of her, startled—but before she could say anything, Ember was already beside her.

  “What are you doing?” Elena asked, blinking.

  “I heard if we want to stay, we have to dance,” Ember muttered. “So here I am.”

  Elena tilted her head, amused. “You don’t have to do everything out of jealousy.”

  “I’m not jealous,” Ember grumbled.

  “You so are.”

  “I’m just… being thorough.”

  But then the beat changed, quicker now. They were pulled by the crowd, changed partners with grinning, swirling strangers. Raccoons spun between them, a fox did a leap off a barrel, and then suddenly—it was the two of them again.

  Elena’s hand found Ember’s, warm and firm. Their steps synced, their feet almost floating in rhythm. The music spun, and they laughed—not because anything was funny, but because something inside them had uncoiled. Unknotted.

  They danced with each other until their lungs burned, cheeks flushed, and all the noise in the world was just the two of them, smiling.

  The music finally slowed.

  They stopped.

  Breathless.

  Face to face.

  The silence afterward felt like a soft exhale.

  Then a deep voice interrupted.

  “WELCOME TO RAQS TOWN!” boomed someone behind them.

  They turned to see a large bear in a velvet vest approach them with a huge grin. His fur was braided with ribbons and beads, and he twirled once on his paw before striking a pose.

  Elena blinked. “Uh… hi?”

  The bear nodded proudly. “You’ve passed the entrance test. Here, we dance all day and relax all night. No exceptions.”

  Ember blinked. “That’s… it? That’s the rule?”

  “Yes!” he said with a laugh. “It keeps our spirits high and our enemies confused. You may rest in the upper quarters—beds are available to travelers. And don’t worry… we don’t charge guests.”

  “Seriously?” Elena asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Only the rude ones,” the bear said, wagging a claw. “And you two?” He winked. “You danced like souls who’ve found each other in a storm.”

  Ember looked away, embarrassed. Elena just grinned.

  Then the bear spun again, laughed, and bounded away toward a group of other bears juggling in the distance.

  Ember turned to Elena. “We’re really in a dancing animal city.”

  “Yes,” Elena said brightly, “and you danced.”

  “You looked happy,” Ember said quietly. “I’d do it again just to see that.”

  Elena looked at her—soft, warm. “Maybe we’ll dance again. After I find a bed. My feet are killing me.”

  Ember chuckled. “I’ll carry you if I have to.”

  “You already do,” Elena said under her breath, and Ember blinked.

  “…What?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  Inside the large domed hall that served as Raqs Town’s reception, light filtered in through rainbow-stained glass windows, throwing dappled color across the marbled floor. The counter at the center was polished wood, a brass bell sitting on top. Behind it, a donkey—wearing a pair of thick round glasses and a blue sash labeled “Check-In Specialist”—looked up from his clipboard as the girls approached.

  He blinked slowly, his hooves clopping against the wooden floor as he stood straighter.

  “Welcome to Raqs Residence,” he said in a drawl, adjusting his glasses. “Please fill out the form… wait—can you read the language of the town?”

  Elena and Ember both leaned in to the sign-in parchment on the desk… and stared blankly. The letters swirled like vines and feathers, curling in ways they’d never seen before.

  “Um…” Elena admitted, “We might not be from around here.”

  The donkey huffed in understanding. “Ah. Tourists. That’s alright. I’ll fill it for you.” He dipped a quill into the inkpot and held it poised. “Name?”

  In perfect unison, they both said, “Elena and Ember.”

  The donkey blinked again. “One. At. A. Time.”

  “Oh—sorry.” Elena smiled sheepishly. “Elena. Age nineteen.”

  The donkey scribbled, then glanced up at Ember. “You?”

  “Ember,” she said, folding her arms. “Age twenty.”

  He jotted that down with an experienced flick of his hoof. “Relationship status: married or single?”

  Both girls froze, looking at each other with wide eyes.

  Elena raised an eyebrow. Ember hesitated.

  There was a strange pause. Then, clearing her throat, Ember said, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re not married… yet.”

  The donkey’s ears perked. He looked up at her slowly. “Yet?” he repeated, tilting his head.

  Ember flushed bright pink, mouth opening slightly before she managed to let out a small, breathy: “…Yes.”

  Elena turned her head slightly, staring at her, cheeks dusted red with surprise and something else she didn’t name.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Well, in that case,” the donkey said with a snort, “we’re categorizing you as married. It simplifies the records.”

  “What—wait—” Ember started.

  “Too late. Married!” he announced proudly, and then—without warning—let out a braying donkey HEE-HAW! that echoed through the entire lobby.

  Other guests turned to look. Ember and Elena turned bright red in sync.

  “Excuse me,” the donkey said quickly, clearing his throat and scribbling faster. He handed them a bronze key shaped like a rose. “Room 23-B. Second floor. Enjoy your stay, Mrs. and Mrs.”

  And with a flurry of paperwork and a very businesslike nod, he vanished into a hallway marked staff only, tail flicking in embarrassment.

  The staircase was winding, lined with murals of dancing animals and glowing mushrooms that pulsed like breathing light. On the second floor, flowerpots hung from every doorway and soft music floated through the air like mist.

  Elena, walking ahead, paused at Room 23-B and slid the key into the carved rose-shaped slot.

  Ember was right behind her, eyes darting around nervously. Every couple they passed looked cozy—heads on shoulders, tails intertwined, soft laughter behind closed doors.

  A pair of swans floated by in silk robes, beaks brushing in a kiss.

  A fox was hand-feeding a shy looking raccoon grapes.

  “...This place is dangerously romantic,” Ember muttered under her breath, cheeks still tinted.

  The door clicked open, and a soft whoosh of rose-scented air spilled out.

  Elena stepped inside first. “Oh… oh wow.”

  The room was glowing softly—soft yellow light filtered through lace curtains. Pink rose petals were scattered generously over everything: the thick comforter on the single large bed, the marble tile around the cozy bathtub in the attached bathroom, the countertops in the tiny but well-equipped kitchen.

  Elena stepped forward, dropped her bag to the floor, and immediately flopped onto the bed face-first.

  “Mmmfff…” Her voice muffled in the petals. “It smells like sweetness and dreams.”

  Ember stood awkwardly by the door, holding both packs now. After a second, she sighed and stepped inside. She moved quietly, placing the bags on the low bench near the foot of the bed. She unstrapped Elena’s half-lifted one and slid it down gently, careful not to touch the red mark on her shoulder.

  “Thanks,” Elena mumbled into the bedspread.

  “Of course,” Ember said softly.

  As Elena melted into the bedding, Ember moved around the room, unpacking their essentials. She placed their water flasks near the sink, laid out clothes on the wooden chairs, even folded Elena’s jacket and tucked it over the backrest carefully.

  When she finally sat down on the armchair across the room, her eyes naturally found their way back to Elena.

  She looked so relaxed there—curled up in rose petals, a little crooked smile playing on her lips. But Ember’s gaze dropped, inevitably, to the scar on her arm. It stood out sharply against her soft skin, a bold reminder of what Ember had done.

  Her jaw clenched. Guilt curled around her chest like smoke.

  She didn’t even realize she was staring until Elena opened one eye.

  “…What?”

  Ember blinked. “Huh?”

  “You’re doing that guilt look again,” Elena said, rolling slightly to her side. “Like you think if you stare hard enough, you can rewind time.”

  “I’m not,” Ember mumbled.

  “You so are.”

  Ember sighed. “I just… I hurt you.”

  “And I already said I’m healing. Now stop staring before you make the bed wilt.”

  A laugh bubbled up between them. It was soft—but it was there.

  Ember looked away, then back. “This room’s really nice.”

  “It is,” Elena said with a happy sigh. “But it’s a little… wedding-suitey, isn’t it?”

  That silenced Ember for a second. “…You think the donkey did that on purpose?”

  “Knowing this place?” Elena smirked. “Absolutely.”

  They both looked up at the ceiling, rose petals gently fluttering down.

  “…Hey,” Elena said after a pause.

  “Yeah?”

  “You did say ‘yet.’ Back there.”

  Ember’s face flushed pink again, and she buried her face in her hands.

  “I panicked.”

  Elena’s laugh was warm. “Well. It was cute.”

  Ember peeked through her fingers. “You think?”

  Elena looked at her—really looked—and nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

  They didn’t say much after that.

  But the silence was warm. Comfortable.

  The petals smelled like the start of something that didn’t need to be rushed.

  The night outside the windows of Room 23-B was alive with soft music and the occasional celebratory beat of drums echoing from the plaza below. Inside the room, the light had been dimmed to a warm orange glow—candles placed in small wall sconces, flickering gently. The rose petals hadn’t been disturbed much, only a few were crumpled under them as Ember and Elena lay side by side on the bed, plates of fruit and snacks between them.

  Elena had already eaten half the strawberries, and Ember was eyeing the grapes with a mild frown.

  “So…” Elena said, popping a berry into her mouth. “You saw a fox feeding a raccoon?”

  Ember leaned her head back against the headboard, arms folded. “Yeah. I did.”

  “And?”

  She let out a short, huffy breath. “The raccoon was just sitting there, like a floppy blanket. Mouth open. And the fox was feeding him grapes one by one like it was some big, dramatic love story.”

  Elena turned her head toward her, amused. “Sounds sweet.”

  “No, it sounds lazy.” Ember gestured with one hand, clearly still frustrated. “That raccoon has arms. He could feed himself. What kind of creature just sits there doing nothing while someone else—” she paused as Elena turned toward her more, eyes glinting with mischief in the low light.

  “…Feed me a grape,” Elena said casually, opening her mouth like the raccoon.

  Ember blinked.

  “What?”

  Elena raised an eyebrow. “I want to feel like a lazy raccoon in a dramatic love story. Feed me.”

  Ember scoffed. “You’re joking.”

  “Am not.”

  She groaned softly but reached for the grapes, pulling one off the vine with exaggerated slowness. “Fine. But if you start requesting peeled ones, I’m leaving.”

  “I won’t. Promise.” Elena grinned.

  With a deadpan look, Ember held up the grape and fed it gently into Elena’s waiting mouth. Elena closed her eyes and chewed with exaggerated bliss, letting out a soft mmm as if she were being spoiled royalty.

  Ember just rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “You’re enabling me,” Elena pointed out, then opened her mouth again.

  Without even thinking, Ember popped another grape between her lips. This time, as she chewed, Elena chuckled to herself.

  “You’re so oblivious sometimes,” she said between bites.

  “Excuse me?”

  Elena rolled to her side a bit, eyes gleaming. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Feeding me without question. You’re practically the fox now.”

  Ember scowled, but the corners of her lips were fighting not to rise. “No I’m not.”

  “You so are.”

  A beat.

  Then Elena leaned in and gently kissed Ember’s cheek.

  Ember’s whole body seemed to short-circuit for a second, eyes wide.

  Elena tilted her head. “Now you kiss mine.”

  “…Wh—why?”

  “Balance,” Elena said simply, pointing at her cheek with a grin.

  Ember blinked. “That’s not how balance works.”

  “Is now.”

  Mumbling something under her breath, Ember leaned in and quickly pecked Elena’s cheek. She pulled away like she’d touched a flame.

  Elena giggled softly and flopped backward into the bed again, arms folding behind her head.

  The plates were pushed aside as they both laid down fully, legs tangled a little, their hands naturally finding each other’s in the space between them.

  The ceiling above was simple—white plaster and wooden beams—but for some reason, it looked magical in the candlelight.

  Elena broke the silence first, her voice softer now. “Where do you think Snacks is?”

  Ember didn’t answer right away. Her thumb gently brushed over the back of Elena’s hand. “I… didn’t see him. Not after the Aster Field. Thought he’d catch up.”

  Elena sighed, her smile dimming. “He would’ve loved this place.”

  “…He really would’ve,” Ember agreed. “He’d probably have learned six dances by now and entered the local dance competition.”

  Elena laughed quietly, then looked over at her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I do,” Ember said, even though she wasn’t totally sure. “He’s a tough little fluffball.”

  They both stared at the ceiling for a few more seconds, until Elena turned her head.

  “Do you like it here?”

  Ember turned to meet her eyes. “You mean Raqs Town?”

  “Yeah.”

  She hesitated. “I do. It’s loud, but... somehow calm.”

  “Right?” Elena smiled wide. “It’s like everyone’s just happy. The music, the dancing, even the animal people. They’re not afraid. They’re not hiding. They’re just… living.”

  Ember watched her for a long moment.

  “You’re smiling more here,” she said quietly.

  Elena looked down at their hands. “That’s because I feel safe here. For the first time in a while. Like we can breathe.”

  There was a pause. Then she added, “We should stay for a little while. Just enough to enjoy it. Dance again. Ask around about the Hollow Place.”

  Ember nodded slowly, squeezing her hand. “Alright. We’ll stay.”

  “You sure?” Elena asked, studying her. “I know you don’t like places that feel too… settled.”

  “I like wherever you’re smiling,” Ember said without thinking.

  Elena blinked. Her cheeks warmed.

  “…That was cheesy,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Ember muttered, hiding her face in her arm.

  Elena laughed and gently pulled her closer until they were forehead to forehead, soft breaths syncing up. The laughter faded into a quiet hush between them.

  In the safety of rose-scented sheets, surrounded by music and dancing and lazy raccoons and foxes in love, Elena closed her eyes and whispered, “Let’s just enjoy the night.”

  And Ember, hand still in hers, whispered back, “Okay.”

  The night outside the windows of Room 23-B was alive with soft music and the occasional celebratory beat of drums echoing from the plaza below. Inside the room, the light had been dimmed to a warm orange glow—candles placed in small wall sconces, flickering gently. The rose petals hadn’t been disturbed much, only a few were crumpled under them as Ember and Elena lay side by side on the bed, plates of fruit and snacks between them.

  Elena had already eaten half the strawberries, and Ember was eyeing the grapes with a mild frown.

  “So…” Elena said, popping a berry into her mouth. “You saw a fox feeding a raccoon?”

  Ember leaned her head back against the headboard, arms folded. “Yeah. I did.”

  “And?”

  She let out a short, huffy breath. “The raccoon was just sitting there, like a floppy blanket. Mouth open. And the fox was feeding him grapes one by one like it was some big, dramatic love story.”

  Elena turned her head toward her, amused. “Sounds sweet.”

  “No, it sounds lazy.” Ember gestured with one hand, clearly still frustrated. “That raccoon has arms. He could feed himself. What kind of creature just sits there doing nothing while someone else—” she paused as Elena turned toward her more, eyes glinting with mischief in the low light.

  “…Feed me a grape,” Elena said casually, opening her mouth like the raccoon.

  Ember blinked.

  “What?”

  Elena raised an eyebrow. “I want to feel like a lazy raccoon in a dramatic love story. Feed me.”

  Ember scoffed. “You’re joking.”

  “Am not.”

  She groaned softly but reached for the grapes, pulling one off the vine with exaggerated slowness. “Fine. But if you start requesting peeled ones, I’m leaving.”

  “I won’t. Promise.” Elena grinned.

  With a deadpan look, Ember held up the grape and fed it gently into Elena’s waiting mouth. Elena closed her eyes and chewed with exaggerated bliss, letting out a soft mmm as if she were being spoiled royalty.

  Ember just rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “You’re enabling me,” Elena pointed out, then opened her mouth again.

  Without even thinking, Ember popped another grape between her lips. This time, as she chewed, Elena chuckled to herself.

  “You’re so oblivious sometimes,” she said between bites.

  “Excuse me?”

  Elena rolled to her side a bit, eyes gleaming. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Feeding me without question. You’re practically the fox now.”

  Ember scowled, but the corners of her lips were fighting not to rise. “No I’m not.”

  “You so are.”

  A beat.

  Then Elena leaned in and gently kissed Ember’s cheek.

  Ember’s whole body seemed to short-circuit for a second, eyes wide.

  Elena tilted her head. “Now you kiss mine.”

  “…Wh—why?”

  “Balance,” Elena said simply, pointing at her cheek with a grin.

  Ember blinked. “That’s not how balance works.”

  “Is now.”

  Mumbling something under her breath, Ember leaned in and quickly pecked Elena’s cheek. She pulled away like she’d touched a flame.

  Elena giggled softly and flopped backward into the bed again, arms folding behind her head.

  The plates were pushed aside as they both laid down fully, legs tangled a little, their hands naturally finding each other’s in the space between them.

  The ceiling above was simple—white plaster and wooden beams—but for some reason, it looked magical in the candlelight.

  Elena broke the silence first, her voice softer now. “Where do you think Snacks is?”

  Ember didn’t answer right away. Her thumb gently brushed over the back of Elena’s hand. “I… didn’t see him. Not after the Aster Field. Thought he’d catch up.”

  Elena sighed, her smile dimming. “He would’ve loved this place.”

  “…He really would’ve,” Ember agreed. “He’d probably have learned six dances by now and entered the local dance competition.”

  Elena laughed quietly, then looked over at her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I do,” Ember said, even though she wasn’t totally sure. “He’s a tough little fluffball.”

  They both stared at the ceiling for a few more seconds, until Elena turned her head.

  “Do you like it here?”

  Ember turned to meet her eyes. “You mean Raqs Town?”

  “Yeah.”

  She hesitated. “I do. It’s loud, but... somehow calm.”

  “Right?” Elena smiled wide. “It’s like everyone’s just happy. The music, the dancing, even the animal people. They’re not afraid. They’re not hiding. They’re just… living.”

  Ember watched her for a long moment.

  “You’re smiling more here,” she said quietly.

  Elena looked down at their hands. “That’s because I feel safe here. For the first time in a while. Like we can breathe.”

  There was a pause. Then she added, “We should stay for a little while. Just enough to enjoy it. Dance again. Ask around about the Hollow Place.”

  Ember nodded slowly, squeezing her hand. “Alright. We’ll stay.”

  “You sure?” Elena asked, studying her. “I know you don’t like places that feel too… settled.”

  “I like wherever you’re smiling,” Ember said without thinking.

  Elena blinked. Her cheeks warmed.

  “…That was cheesy,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Ember muttered, hiding her face in her arm.

  Elena laughed and gently pulled her closer until they were forehead to forehead, soft breaths syncing up. The laughter faded into a quiet hush between them.

  In the safety of rose-scented sheets, surrounded by music and dancing and lazy raccoons and foxes in love, Elena closed her eyes and whispered, “Let’s just enjoy the night.”

  And Ember, hand still in hers, whispered back, “Okay.”

  Morning came gently, filtered through the curtains in soft gold streaks that made the rose petals on the bed glow. Birds chirped outside. The city of Raqs was already humming with music and chatter below their window—but in Room 23, it was slow, lazy, and filled with the warmth of two people still curled into each other under heavy covers.

  Ember was the first to open her eyes, finding Elena’s forehead resting lightly against her collarbone. Her arm had fallen over Ember’s waist sometime in the night, her fingers still curled there. Ember blinked at the contact, lips parted just slightly in awe—and panic.

  She held me like this all night.

  Room 22 had finally gone quiet around midnight, but the damage had been done. Ember had laid there, rigid as a statue, not daring to move—because every time she tried, Elena would just cling tighter and mutter things like, “Warm,” or “Don’t go yet…”

  It had been cute.

  Dangerously cute.

  And Ember was so tired.

  Elena stirred with a yawn and blinked herself awake, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. Her voice came out sleep-rough. “Morning…”

  “Morning,” Ember said softly.

  A pause.

  Then:

  “…They stopped,” Elena muttered, referring to the neighbors.

  “Don’t remind me,” Ember groaned, covering her face.

  Elena giggled and then—just like that—sat up and stretched, her arms high, the loose collar of her nightshirt slipping slightly off her shoulder.

  Ember tried very hard not to look. She turned away, sitting up quickly and facing the wall.

  Elena was already up and walking over to her bag. “I’m gonna change now,” she said casually, pulling out clean clothes.

  “You—wait,” Ember said quickly, panic in her voice. “Do you—do you want me to step outside or something?”

  Elena paused, blinking.

  “Why?” she asked, already pulling her shirt over her head.

  “Because—” Ember turned around, caught half a glimpse, turned right back around. “Because you’re changing in front of me!”

  Elena huffed. “Ember.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve literally changed in front of each other every single morning in a tiny tent. I’ve seen you shirtless. You’ve seen me shirtless.”

  “Yeah, but that was survival! This is—this is a room! With walls! With privacy!”

  Elena snorted, laughing as she pulled on her top. “Are you serious right now?”

  “I’m very serious,” Ember said, facing the window like it was her last lifeline.

  “You’re so dramatic in the mornings,” Elena teased, clearly enjoying every second of Ember’s meltdown. “You were fine with being my personal pillow last night.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “It just was.”

  Ember heard the shuffle of clothes being zipped up, and dared a glance—Elena was pulling on her boots now, looking all innocent and smug at once. Her shirt hung slightly loose, her hair a bit tousled from sleep, and there was a distinct spark in her eye like she knew exactly what kind of power she held and was using it to the fullest.

  “You’re unbelievable,” Ember muttered, turning to pack up their things.

  “I’m adorable,” Elena corrected, grabbing a brush and lazily taming her hair in the mirror. “And you’re a chicken.”

  “I’m not a chicken.”

  “You flinched like a scared squirrel the second I started changing.”

  “I was trying to be respectful!”

  Elena looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Mmhm.”

  “…You’re insufferable.”

  “And you blushed when the donkey called us married.”

  “That’s because he said it out loud!”

  Elena walked over, arms crossed but her grin softening. “Hey,” she said more gently. “I’m teasing you, but seriously… it’s okay. I trust you. And if you ever want me to be more careful, just say the word, alright?”

  That got Ember quiet.

  Her eyes softened. “Okay,” she said after a beat. “Thank you.”

  Elena winked. “You’re welcome, future wife.”

  Ember nearly dropped the bag.

  “You—! Elena!”

  Elena was already grabbing the room key and heading for the door, laughing like it was the best morning of her life. “Come on, Ember. Let’s go see what breakfast looks like in a city full of dancing animals.”

  Ember sighed, shook her head… but followed, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

  The dining hall on the first floor of Raqs Town Inn had a comforting smell—somewhere between grilled spices and freshly cut herbs. It buzzed softly with morning chatter, silverware clinking, and the mellow beat of a drum in the far corner, played lazily by a flamingo with rhythm in her long toes.

  Ember and Elena stepped in from the reception area, the cool stone floor warming beneath their boots as they made their way toward a table.

  “This place has vibes,” Elena muttered, looking around. The walls were painted in vibrant splashes of orange and teal, and the ceiling had spinning cloth fans shaped like oversized lotus petals. “Feels like a dance could break out any second.”

  “A breakfast dance?” Ember raised an eyebrow as they sat down. “That sounds chaotic.”

  “I think it sounds perfect.”

  A tan-furred antelope in a little apron came to their table and bowed lightly. “Good morning! Do you two prefer a meat plate, vegetables, or a mix of both?”

  Ember didn’t hesitate. “Two mixes, please.”

  Elena shot her a mock-glare. “Hey, I was gonna say meat.”

  “I know,” Ember said, smirking. “That’s why I answered first.”

  Elena leaned back, arms crossed. “Rude.”

  “You need vegetables.”

  “I don’t need anything green unless it’s mint chocolate.”

  Ember gave her the look.

  Elena sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll eat the plants.”

  As the antelope trotted away, Elena tilted her head and muttered under her breath, “I wonder where they get their meat from, though…”

  Ember blinked. “You’re just now thinking about that?”

  “Well, I mean—this town is all talking animals, right? It’s a fair question.”

  Ember shrugged. “Probably from the animals that don’t talk. Like… the normal ones?”

  Elena made a face. “Still feels weird.”

  “Then eat your veggies.”

  “That’s weirder.”

  They were still lightly bickering when the food arrived—plates arranged beautifully with sautéed mushrooms, roasted potatoes, grilled slices of meat Ember couldn't identify (but smelled delicious), and a small bowl of colorful chopped salad.

  “Eat all your vegetables,” Ember said sweetly, setting a napkin on her lap.

  Elena stabbed a carrot slice and waved it like a flag. “For the sake of your fragile heart.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  As they were laughing, a large presence moved in front of their table—followed by a much smaller one.

  A massive lion with a thick gold mane and an energetic tail swishing behind him sat across from them. Beside him, a delicate white bunny in a thin lilac slip-like outfit hopped into her seat with a graceful wiggle of her nose.

  “Good morning!” the lion said in a booming voice, full of cheer. “Mind if we sit here? The other tables are full.”

  “Uh—sure!” Elena said before Ember could say anything. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m Raj,” the lion introduced, slapping his paw to his chest. “And this is my wife, Lali.”

  The bunny offered a little wave and a small smile. Her fur looked slightly tussled in places, like she hadn’t exactly combed it down before breakfast. But she didn’t seem to mind.

  Raj flagged down a server. “Meat platter for me, and veggies for her.”

  Lali blushed softly and leaned into his side. “He always orders for me.”

  Elena smirked and whispered to Ember, “Remind you of someone?”

  Ember raised an eyebrow. “I ordered a mix, not just vegetables.”

  “Still. You’re lucky I didn’t say I was allergic to green.”

  Raj turned to them again. “So! What brings you both here? First time in Raqs Town?”

  “Yeah,” Elena said, sitting up straighter. “We’re just traveling through. Staying on the second floor.”

  “Oh! Which room?”

  “Room 23,” she said proudly, popping a grape into her mouth.

  Ember was too busy watching the lion’s tail, which was swaying behind him like a happy golden retriever’s. It thumped the floor every time he laughed. She had to resist the urge to stare.

  Raj nodded. “Ah, one room up from us. We’re in 22.”

  Ember froze.

  Elena blinked once. “Wait. Room 22?”

  “Yep!” Raj beamed. “We arrived yesterday. Had quite the night.”

  Ember coughed into her drink.

  Lali smiled, dreamily rubbing her cheek against Raj’s arm. “It’s our honeymoon.”

  Elena blinked again. “Ah. That makes sense.”

  Raj tilted his head. “What about you two? Are you… married?”

  Before Ember could open her mouth to breathe, Elena reached over and grabbed her hand.

  “Yes,” she said with a sunny, too enthusiastic smile. “We’re married.”

  Ember almost choked on her food. “Elena—!”

  Raj looked delighted. “Aww! Newlyweds?”

  “Very,” Elena grinned, fingers tightening on Ember’s. “Happened not too long ago.”

  Lali looked between them with soft eyes. “You two are so cute together.”

  Ember was turning so red.

  Raj launched into more questions. “So, where are you from? Are your parents supportive? Did you have a big ceremony or a small one?”

  Elena answered all of them without missing a beat—leaning more and more into Ember’s side, enjoying the flustered expression growing on her face.

  By the end of the meal, they’d learned that Raj was from the northern valleys, Lali was from a cliffside warren, and that they were planning to stay in Raqs for a full week—dancing, eating, and apparently making plenty of noise at night.

  As they stood to leave, Ember looked dazed.

  Once they were out of earshot, Elena burst into a laugh. “Room 22! Of course it was them.”

  Ember facepalmed. “The lion nearly shattered the walls.”

  “I think the bunny liked it,” Elena teased.

  “I don’t want to know that.”

  “Too late. Now you know.”

  Before Ember could reply, they were interrupted again—the familiar broad-shouldered bear from before jogged over to them, waving cheerfully.

  “Settled in alright, ladies?”

  “We are,” Elena smiled.

  “Good, good! Don’t be shy to ask if you need anything. Town’s friendly. Enjoy yourselves!”

  As he waddled off again, Ember turned to Elena.

  “You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again.”

  Elena just bumped her shoulder against Ember’s and laughed. “Come on, wifey. Let’s go explore.”