The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 143: Concern

ERIS

The room they’d given me was more than adequate.

Stone walls carved with heating runes that glowed faint amber instead of the blue I’d started associating with Nevareth magic. Large bed piled with furs that looked warm and soft. Copper tub already filled with water that steamed invitingly. Windows overlooking the camp below where torches flickered and people moved with purpose.

Simpler than the palace in Solmire. No gilt edges or excessive decoration. No statement pieces meant to remind visitors of wealth and power.

Just functional comfort. Clean lines. Everything necessary and nothing superfluous.

I appreciated that more than I probably should.

The door burst open before I’d taken three steps inside.

Mira. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Small and anxious and barely holding together. Her eyes found me and immediately filled with tears that spilled over before she could stop them.

"My lady!"

She threw herself at me.

Arms wrapping around my waist. Face buried in my shoulder. Whole body shaking with sobs she’d apparently been holding back for days.

Completely improper. Servants didn’t embrace their ladies like this. Didn’t let emotion override protocol. Didn’t forget every rule about appropriate physical distance and propriety.

But Mira clearly didn’t care.

"I was so worried! When the horse came back without you I thought—I didn’t know if you were—" Words tumbled over each other. Incoherent. Relief mixed with residual fear. "Are you hurt? Did something happen? The commander wouldn’t tell us anything and we just had to wait and—"

I stood there.

Stiff. Uncertain. Not used to this kind of genuine affection. Not sure how to respond when someone was crying because they’d been worried about me instead of crying because I’d done something terrible.

My hands hovered awkwardly near her back.

Then I gave in.

Patted her shoulder. Gentle. Like I was trying to comfort a small animal and wasn’t entirely sure how it worked.

"It takes more than magical beasts to bring me down," I said.

Meant it to sound casual. Dismissive. The Fire Queen brushing off danger like it was nothing.

Came out almost gentle instead.

Mira pulled back enough to look at me. Eyes red. Face blotchy. Still crying but managing a watery smile.

"You’re really okay?"

"I’m fine."

She studied my face like she was verifying I was real. That I was whole. That whatever she’d been imagining hadn’t actually happened.

Something shifted in her expression.

Softened. Went maternal in a way that seemed disproportionate to our age difference and respective positions. Like she was looking at something small and vulnerable that needed protecting despite all evidence to the contrary.

How mortifying.

Other attendants filed in then. Efficient. Professional. Moving around the room with practiced coordination that suggested they’d done this a thousand times.

Someone took my cloak. Someone else started working on the fastenings of my dress. A third brought fresh clothes and laid them carefully on the bed.

Mira supervised everything.

Wiping her eyes but already back in servant mode. Directing others. Making sure everything was perfect. That I was taken care of properly.

The bath was wonderful.

Hot water that soaked into muscles still sore from riding. Steam that opened my lungs and made breathing easier. Privacy as attendants left me alone to actually relax instead of hovering.

I stayed in longer than necessary, letting the heat soak through me and exhaustion finally catch up now that I was somewhere safe and comfortable. I allowed my mind wander through the past days without the constant need to stay alert.

When I finally emerged, fresh clothes waited. Simple nightdress in soft fabric that was warm without being heavy. No corsets or complicated layers. Just comfort.

Food had appeared too.

Hearty stew that smelled amazing. Fresh bread still warm from ovens. Spiced wine in a cup that warmed my hands. Real food after days of travel rations and whatever we’d scrounged at the cave.

I ate.

Slowly. Savoring flavors. Letting my body remember what proper meals tasted like.

Then everyone left.

Mira last. Lingering at the door like she wanted to make sure I really was fine before she went.

"Call if you need anything, my lady."

"I will."

She hesitated. "Are you sure you’re—"

"I’m sure. Go. Rest. You look exhausted."

She smiled. Nodded. Closed the door softly behind her.

Finally alone.

I sat on the bed. Let my body fully relax for the first time in days. Let the tension bleed out of my shoulders and spine and the muscles that had been holding me upright through sheer stubbornness.

My mind drifted.

Back to the cave. To cold stone and glowing water and days that felt suspended outside normal time.

To Soren.

Half-naked in ice-formed clothes that barely covered anything. Looking like something carved by gods with too much time and very specific aesthetic preferences.

His hands. His mouth. His voice in my ear saying things that should be illegal.

The memory hit without warning.

His fingers inside me. Working me with practiced skill. Finding spots I didn’t know existed and exploiting them ruthlessly. His other hand in my mouth. His body pressed against mine. The way I’d come apart so completely I’d forgotten language and dignity and every reason why letting him touch me was complicated.

Heat flooded my face.

Alone in the room with no witnesses and I was still blushing like I’d never been touched before. Like I was some virginal maiden instead of someone who’d been married for five years and definitely knew what sex involved.

Though what Caelen and I had done barely qualified as the same activity compared to what Soren had...

No.

Not thinking about that.

Not comparing them.

Not acknowledging that Soren had made me feel things in minutes that Caelen had never managed in years.

"What is wrong with me?" I said out loud.

To the empty room. To myself. To whatever part of my brain thought letting Soren affect me this much this fast was acceptable behavior.

The torch near the bed flared.

Sudden. Bright. Flames leaping higher than they should. Responding to my emotional spike with enthusiasm that was entirely inappropriate for fire that should be contained and controlled.

I froze.

Stared at the torch. At flames that were definitely reacting to me. To my emotions. To magic I’d thought was still sealed.

My heat was coming back.

Not all at once. Not overwhelming like before. Just... returning. The familiar warmth in my veins that had defined my existence for years. The constant low burn that lived beneath my skin and reminded me I wasn’t normal, wasn’t safe, wasn’t someone who could be touched without risk.

But it felt different.

Less wild. More settled. Like the river had done something to the chaos that usually pressed against the inside of my skin demanding release.

Like something that had been breaking had been reinforced instead.

I held up my hand.

Concentrated. Called my fire the way I’d been doing since I was little.

Flames appeared at my fingertips.

Small. Controlled. Black fire that was my signature. That marked me as different from other fire-wielders who conjured red and orange and yellow.

They flickered obediently.

Responding to my will. Shaping themselves according to my intention. More controlled than they’d ever been before. Less like they wanted to escape and consume and more like they were content to simply exist.

I focused inward.

On the seal. The one my father had placed inside me. The binding that held Pyronox trapped inside my bones and was slowly killing me.

It felt... stable.