"Hello there," he drawled, grin sharp as a hook. "I'm Muir."
The name meant nothing, but it landed in my chest like a warning bell. He crouched on the black rock at the spring's edge, eyes bright with the kind of amusement predators have right before they pounce.
I made myself lift my chin. "Want a medal for introducing yourself, or is sneaking up on girls your hobby?"
He laughed softly. "Oh, I like you already. Sharp tongue. Soft eyes. Delicious combination."
"Step back," I said, shifting until the stone wall was at my shoulder. "I don't know who you think you are—"
"Didn't I just tell you?" He tipped his head, as if the world existed to entertain him. "Muir. Remember it. You'll be seeing more of me."
My stomach tightened. "What do you want?"
His smile thinned. "To see what an old friend of mine wants with you."
Old friend. The words sounded like a private joke. My thoughts raced: Raiden. It had to be Raiden. But the way Muir said it—careless, edged—made the word friend mean anything but.
"If this is about Raiden, you're shit out of luck," I said. "He's clearly not here."
"We will see about that." Muir's eyes warmed with mock surprise.
The spring steamed between us. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I kept my voice dry. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be here—just in the nick of time." He glanced at the trees, as if listening to something only he could hear, then back to me. "But before that, I prefer to have a conversation."
"I'm not interested." I shifted deeper, arms tight against my ribs under the water. He watched the motion, smirk hitching higher.
"You will be," he murmured. "Eventually."
His gaze slid over my face—hairline, cheek, mouth—like he was cataloging me.
"I feel like you're wasting my bath," I snapped.
A low chuckle. "You're amusing. He always liked that." He said it to himself more than to me. Then, brighter: "Only chance to answer—what does princey boy want with you?"
I stayed silent. I couldn't really answer that question. I still didn't really know myself.
"Ah." His grin snapped back into place. "So the Prince hasn't told you everything."
Something cold slid under my ribs. I kept my face blank. "We're done here."
"We are," he agreed. "Let's see how long it takes him to show up, shall we."
"What are yo—"
His hand shot out—cold, fast, sure.
Fingers clamped around my neck and pushed.
The spring swallowed me whole.
Water punched into my nose and throat. The world went muffled and green-black. I kicked hard, twisted, clawed at his arm. He was stone wrapped in skin. My lungs burned. I tried to call for my talons, for anything—but only felt the crushing weight of water squeezing. I was too tired from training. Panic exploded—bright, useless.
Move. I raked his knuckles with my nails, drove my knee toward where I hoped his ribs were, found nothing but water and his unyielding grip. Spots burst across the dark. My chest spasmed—air—air—air—
My vision blurred.
R-Raiden… help.
The water turned to white.
Lightning tore it apart in a searing flash. Pressure popped in my ears. His grip stuttered for the smallest moment. I ripped free and kicked upward, hands clawing at liquid that refused to move. The surface slammed me in the face. I broke through choking and coughing, gulping air like it might run out next.
"Get your hands off her!"
Raiden's voice cracked the clearing in half.
He was already in the water—boots, shirt, everything—lightning hissing along his forearms, pupils thin as blades. Fury rolled off him until the steam itself felt charged.
Muir pushed me to the side with a casual flick, as if I were a child's toy he'd grown bored of. I stumbled to the ledge, and that was when my brain remembered the obvious: I was completely naked.
Heat smacked my face. I crossed my arms on instinct; it was like trying to hide behind glass.
Muir's gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate. "Out of the water, you're even more… appealing than I imagined."
Shame and rage braided together so tight I couldn't breathe.
Raiden moved.
One second the air was empty; the next, weight fell warm and heavy across my shoulders. His cloak. He wrapped it around me in a single motion, pulled it tight at my throat, and angled himself half in front of me, blocking Muir's view completely. I felt the heat of his chest through soaked cloth.
"Enough," he said, lightning snapping off his fingers like sparks from a forge. "You so much as look at her again, and I'll kill you."
Muir's grin deepened, delighted. "Oh, temper, temper—that's new." His ocean eyes flicked over Raiden's stance, cataloging, comparing. "Still your father's son—quick to strike. Slow to ask questions."
Raiden's jaw locked. The lightning brightened.
He took the bait with words, then became a blur of motion.
He lunged. The bolt he threw wasn't a show of power; it was the shortest, surest line between him and ending a problem. Muir swept his arm and the spring rose with him, a wall of water that swallowed the strike in a violent hiss. Steam exploded, turning the world into a hot, white blur.
"Always theatrical," Muir said, voice easy, water coiling along his wrists like living rope.
"And you never shut that damn mouth of yours," Raiden snapped.
They collided.
Lightning carved through mist. Water hit back like glass. The shock rattled the stones under my feet. Raiden moved like a blade—direct, brutal, economical. Muir flowed around him, meeting strength with slip, turning each strike a fraction off its line. Lightning splayed harmless across curtains of spray. Water snapped to ice for a heartbeat and shattered to sleet under a crack of current.
I clutched the cloak tighter, teeth gritted, heart a drum. The fight wasn't chaotic; it was practiced. Familiar. Like two boys who had tried to kill each other so many times their bodies remembered the steps.
"Stop!" I shouted, throat raw. Neither of them looked back. The steam made halos of their shoulders, their faces. Lightning arced inches from Muir's cheek. A spear of water shaved close enough to Raiden's ribs to slice cloth.
"Enough!" The word ripped out of me in a voice that didn't feel like mine, the command hot and heavy.
They froze. Not fully. Raiden's fists still hummed; water still quivered at Muir's hands. But there was a tiny pause—space big enough for breath.
Muir's grin returned, slower. "Interesting. Looks like someone can finally tame you."
"Careful," Raiden warned, voice gone quiet and deadly.
Muir's attention slid to me again. He didn't look away as he spoke to Raiden. "She looks good draped in your colors. Who would have guessed?"
Heat flared up my throat. I hated that shame tried to eat anger. I forced my chin up. "Keep talking and I'll rip that pretty jewelry out of your face."
He laughed, genuinely pleased. "Delicious."
A branch cracked. Footsteps—pounding, not stealth. Revik burst through the trees, sword half drawn, eyes finding me first, then taking in the two men shining with elements like something from a nightmare.
"Lyra, are you hurt?" he asked as he lifted his sword to shield me. Then louder, to Raiden: "Everything good here, Rai?"
"Stay back," Raiden said without looking at him.
Revik's gaze flitted to Muir, narrowed. "And who the hell is this pretty boy?"
"Muir," Muir said, tipping two fingers off his brow. "Water Nation prince. Sometimes friend. Oftentimes annoying, so I'm told."
"We agree on one thing," Revik said dryly. His eyes cut to me, flicked over the cloak, the way I was holding it, the way Raiden stood too near. He didn't comment—just shifted his stance so he could move if either man did.
Raiden didn't relax. His hands had stopped throwing lightning, but the air around him kept a low hum.
"How did you find us?" he asked, flat.
Muir rocked back on his heels, amused. "Finally asking the right questions. Here's an answer: I followed the rumor of you pulling an Earthlin prisoner apart. You left pieces of him. Thankfully, though, there were still pieces that could talk." He clicked his tongue. "Sloppy. But don't worry—your old pal Muir took care of it for you. No need to thank me."
Raiden's mouth thinned. My fingers tightened on the cloak.
"And I thought," Muir went on, "if you were moving, it could only mean one thing. The rumors were true. So imagine my luck when I found the Primal bathing alone."
"Imagine your funeral," Revik said, sword lifting a fraction.
Muir's attention slid back to me, and there it was again—the invasive interest that made my skin crawl. "Tell me, Lyra." My name sounded wrong in his mouth. "Do you know what he wants you to be? What his version of peace looks like?"
I said nothing. My heartbeat drummed so loud I could hardly think.
Muir smiled like I'd confirmed a suspicion. "He doesn't tell his toys the rules of the game. Never did."
"Stop talking," Raiden said, and there was something in his tone that even Muir's grin didn't quite erase.
"Or what?" Muir asked, lazy. "You'll crown yourself at last and make it an order?"
Revik flinched the smallest amount. Raiden didn't.
Muir laughed softly. "So that nerve still works. Good to know. For later."
He turned as if to leave, then paused, eyes raking me once more. "You are valuable, Primal. Try not to die before the introductions are over."
"Don't plan to," I said firmly. My hands were shaking, but I refused to let him see the fear.
He lit with approval. "Eventually, you and I are going to get along beautifully."
"Unlikely," Revik said.
Muir's smile cut wider. He raised his palms in a false peace. "Another time, then."
He stepped backward into the spring. The surface climbed his calves, his knees, his waist. He didn't shiver. His eyes found Raiden's over the steam.
"You always were fun when angry," he said lightly. "You know how to find me, Raiden. We will see each other again soon, Primal."
"Stay away from her," Raiden told him, voice flat steel.
Muir winked at me. "No promises."
He sank. The water closed over his hair, then his grin, leaving only rings that widened and died against the rock.
Silence fell so fast it rang.
I realized I was shaking. Not from cold—the cloak, Raiden's heat, the spring—none of that let the cold in. From the whiplash of it: relaxing to drowning to watching him just vanish. It all happened so fast.
Raiden's hand hovered at my elbow, not touching. "Are you hurt?"
My throat worked. "Just my pride."
His mouth wanted to be a smile and lost the fight. He looked away first, as if that cost less. "Get dressed," he said, voice back under control. "Revik, take her back to camp."
"Take her back? What about you?" Revik repeated. "It'll be dark in an hour."
"Exactly." Raiden's eyes went to the spring, to the trees, to the places sound hides. "I've got something I need to do."
Revik sheathed his sword with a mutter. "I hate it when you go off on your own. Nothing good comes from it." He angled his body, offering me his shoulder without looking directly at me. "Do you need—"
"I'm fine," I said too quickly, gripping the cloak tighter. "Turn around."
Revik pivoted to face a tree with exaggerated politeness. "As the lady commands."
Raiden didn't move. He stared at the spring until the last ripple smoothed, then finally turned his back and stepped a pace away, giving me privacy. The cloak smelled faintly of smoke and cedar and something familiar, like my body remembered something I didn't. I slipped out of the water, keeping fabric tight, and hurried to where my clothes lay folded on the stone. My hands shook when I tied the last knot. I hated that. I hated that he'd seen it more.
"Ready," I said, once the cloak lay over my clothes instead of my skin.
Revik looked relieved. "Good."
Raiden ignored him. "You'll circle west," he said, all command again. "Stay off the ridgelines. No lights. If anything moves in the trees, you keep moving."
Raiden's eyes slid back to the spring. "Go. I'll be right behind you."
I should have felt safer at that. I did and didn't. The cloak on my shoulders felt heavier than its weight, as if the threads themselves were telling me I belonged to a story I hadn't agreed to be in.
"Who is he to you?" I asked finally, not looking up.
Raiden's jaw worked once. "An annoyance that has never really gone away."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight."
I almost told him to shove his answers, his cloak, his plans. I almost said I didn't need either of them. But the truth was still raw in me, humiliating and simple: when I'd clawed for air, he'd been the one I called for without thinking. He'd been the one who split the water. When Muir's eyes had turned me into an object, Raiden had put himself between me and the look.
So I said nothing. I walked with Revik, leaving Raiden behind as he scanned the forest.