Thalion was too mentally unstable to use any spells right now. That much was obvious. His hands still trembled, his eyes still darted to shadows that weren’t there, and the mana around his fingers had fizzled out completely—whether from exhaustion or trauma, Jason didn’t know.

Jason knew that they could easily camouflage if Thalion cast something. But if he cast anything right now, there was no telling what could happen. He had just shown he had no control over his magic by killing that orc. The next spell might hit Jason. Or Ylva. Or a building full of innocent people.

So Jason managed to cover him up instead.

He stripped off his own shirt—already stained, already ruined—and wrapped it around Thalion’s shoulders, pulling the fabric up over the elf’s silver hair. The blood on Thalion’s clothes was still wet, still obvious, but the shirt covered the worst of it.

"Keep your head down," Jason muttered. "Don’t look at anyone. Don’t speak."

Thalion nodded weakly. His pale eyes were glassy, unfocused.

They walked back toward the Feather’s Rest.

Thankfully, the commotion outside had drawn most of the people out. The streets near the inn were nearly empty—everyone had rushed toward the screaming and the blood. A few creatures lingered near the entrance, murmuring to each other, but none of them looked twice at Jason and the hunched figure beside him.

The inn was basically empty.

Jason pushed open the door and scanned the common room. No one behind the counter. No one at the tables. Even the young green creature who had served them earlier was gone.

"Come on," Jason whispered, pulling Thalion toward the stairs.

They climbed to the third floor. Jason’s legs burned, his bare feet cold on the wooden steps, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Every second they stayed in the open was a second someone could notice the blood.

They reached their room. Jason pushed the door open.

Ylva was already inside, shoving their few belongings into a cloth sack. Her ears swiveled toward them as they entered, but she didn’t stop moving.

"Bathhouse," Jason said. "Now. Before anyone comes back."

Ylva nodded. She grabbed the sack and slung it over her shoulder.

Jason took Thalion to the bathhouse within the inn.

It was at the end of the hallway on the first floor—a small, steamy room with a wooden door and a stone floor. A large wooden tub sat in the center, filled with water that still had traces of heat. Lanterns hung from the walls, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.

Jason pushed Thalion inside and closed the door behind them.

"Strip," Jason said. "Wash the blood off. I’ll stand guard."

Thalion didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the water, his body shaking.

Jason sighed. "Do you need help?"

Thalion shook his head. Slowly, mechanically, he began pulling off his clothes. His fingers fumbled with the ties and buckles, but eventually, the bloodstained fabric fell to the stone floor.

Thalion stepped into the tub and sat down. The water turned pink almost immediately.

For the first time in a very long time, Thalion was clean.

The dirt, the grime, the dried blood from the dungeon—all of it swirled away into the water. His silver hair floated around his shoulders, no longer matted, no longer filthy. His pale skin, still gaunt, still scarred, seemed to glow in the lantern light.

Jason leaned against the wall, watching the door, but his eyes kept drifting back to Thalion.

And that was when it hit Jason.

This creature was the most attractive male he had seen in his entire life.

Not handsome in the way Jason was handsome—rough, cocky, approachable. Thalion was beautiful. Ethereal. His high cheekbones, his sharp jaw, his long silver hair dripping water down his bare shoulders. Even the scars on his chest and arms couldn’t hide the elegance of his frame.

Jason’s throat went dry.

He began to wonder if Thalion would ever look at him differently. If those pale eyes would ever see Jason as something more than a savior and more of a friend.

The thought made him feel something uncomfortable. Worried. Jealous, in a strange, confusing sense not because he swung that way but because of Ylva.

She was a female at the end of the day and an attractive elf was sure to cause some tension, no?

He pushed it away.

Not now, this wasn’t the time to be having such thoughts.

The water in the tub had gone from pink to clear. Thalion had stopped shaking with his breathing steady now, his eyes no longer wild.

He looked up at Jason.

"Thank you," Thalion said softly. His voice was raw, honest. "For coming for me. For not leaving me there."

Jason shrugged, forcing a casual smile. "What else was I supposed to do? Let you rot in an alley?"

Thalion’s lips twitched—almost a smile. "Most would have."

"Then most are idiots."

Thalion was quiet for a moment. His pale fingers traced patterns on the surface of the water.

"Jason," he said slowly, "I want to tell you something. About what I tried to do to you. I—"

He stopped himself before he could say the words.

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Nothing came out.

Jason watched him. His heart pounded, but his face remained neutral.

"You don’t have to say anything," Jason said.

Thalion shook his head. "But I should. I—"

"Thalion." Jason’s voice was firm but not unkind. "You’re sitting in a tub, covered in orc blood, shaking like a leaf. Whatever you want to confess can wait until you’re not falling apart."

Thalion stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief.

"Thank you," he whispered again.

Jason pushed off the wall and walked to the door. "I’ll find you some clean clothes. Stay here. Don’t use magic. Don’t even think about using magic."

Thalion managed a weak smile. "I won’t."

Jason stepped out of the bathhouse and closed the door behind him.