Savina stood between The Mistress and Noa, the warm jets of water cascading in steady curtains along both sides of her body. Steam curled through the marble chamber, blurring the sharp edges until everything felt both distant and intimately near.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides.
Her head tilted back against Noa’s shoulder, an unintended surrender. The tension that had propelled her through endless corridors, heated arguments, and sharp accusations ebbed away. For now, it simply dissolved.
Noa’s hand glided slowly across Savina’s forehead, sweeping aside damp strands of hair. The touch was gentle, unwavering—not coaxing, not possessive.
Just there.
The Mistress stood before her, close enough that her warmth pierced the steam. Her hands rested lightly on Savina’s hips. Not intimate. Not ciming.
Steadying.
Grounding.
“Speak,” The Mistress said softly.
Savina swallowed.
“What… what is this?”
The water poured around them, its constant murmur filling the quiet.
Savina frowned slightly, confusion knotting behind her eyes.
“This wasn’t my idea,” she said. “He told us to come. He sent us here.”
The Mistress did not deny it.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “He did.”
Savina’s eyes sharpened as they opened.
“So don’t pretend this is some kind of choice.”
Noa’s fingers traced a slow path along Savina’s hairline.
“He opened the door,” Noa said quietly. “He didn’t decide what you do once you’re inside.”
Savina exhaled sharply through her nose.
“He always decides.”
The Mistress’s hands adjusted faintly on Savina’s hips—still not intimate, but firmer, anchoring her as she swayed under the heat and the moment’s gravity.
“At first,” The Mistress said evenly, “yes. He shapes outcomes. He tests trajectories. He did that with your mother. With the board. With you.”
Savina tensed at the mention of Camille.
“So you’re just cleaning up after him?” she asked bitterly.
The Mistress’s mouth curved subtly.
“We’re what comes after,” she said. “When someone doesn’t break the way he expects.”
Savina’s brow creased.
“And what exactly do you want from me?”
The Mistress leaned in closer—not looming, not overpowering. Just near enough for her voice to carry without force.
“We want to guide you on this path,” she said quietly.
“So you won’t have to go through as much pain as we did.”
Savina flinched.
Her head lifted from Noa’s shoulder, just enough to meet The Mistress’s gaze through the haze.
“As much pain…?” she echoed.
The words lingered between them.
The Mistress did not gentle them.
“Yes.”
Savina stared.
“You say that like it’s already decided.”
“It is,” The Mistress said simply. “Just not in the ways you think.”
Noa’s hand stilled gently against Savina’s temple.
Savina swallowed.
“Then say it.”
The Mistress held her gaze, steady and unyielding.
“There will be loss,” she said quietly. “There will be fear. There will be moments when something inside you changes and you realize you can’t return to who you were before.”
Savina’s breath hitched.
“But,” The Mistress continued, “it does not have to be humiliation. It does not have to be isotion. It does not have to be the kind of pain that comes from standing alone when it happens.”
Savina shook her head faintly.
“You’re talking like this is inevitable.”
The Mistress’s hands eased on her hips as Savina steadied herself.
“You wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t,” The Mistress said. “You’re already in the space between who you were and who you’re becoming.”
Silence enveloped them again.
Steam rose zily through the chamber.
Savina closed her eyes, leaning back against Noa without thought.
For a long moment, she remained silent.
The anger that had smoldered in her chest for days refused to ignite anew.
Instead, something quieter took root.
A question she had never permitted herself before.
“…How much worse would it have been,” Savina whispered at st,
“....if I hadn’t come?”
Neither woman replied at once.
But neither withdrew.
And for the first time since stepping into the estate, Savina no longer felt utterly alone.