Crownspire's bathhouse remained open until the final bell for students who finished their training late.
Gaelira arrived when the corridors of the central tower were beginning to empty, carrying a clean change of clothes, a towel, and the diagrams Lenora had given her inside her bag.
After spending most of the afternoon trying to recognize magical currents, the warm humidity escaping beneath the doors seemed like enough of a reward.
Octavia had preferred to return to Thornheart to organize her materials for the next day, so Gaelira expected to find a quiet place where she could clear her head before sleeping.
The changing room was empty. Several rows of wooden lockers covered the walls, and small blue stones kept the floor beneath her feet warm.
Gaelira left her belongings in one of the compartments, removed her uniform, and wrapped a towel around her body.
Although she had begun getting used to seeing herself in the mirror, she still needed to concentrate to avoid thinking too much about every change.
Her hair was especially troublesome when loose, so she gathered it over one shoulder before crossing the door leading to the pools.
Steam filled the room and partially obscured the stone arches of the ceiling. Three circular pools occupied the center, fed by statues of sea creatures pouring hot water from their mouths.
Gaelira thought she was alone until she heard something fall near one of the benches. As she approached, she made out a figure sitting with her back turned, white hair clinging to the back of her neck and a long bandage spread across the floor.
Clarke Calnoy turned her head when she heard Gaelira's footsteps. Her green eyes widened for an instant before recovering the proud expression she used every time she encountered Gaelira.
She wore a towel wrapped tightly around her chest and another rested across her legs, but what caught Gaelira's attention was a reddish wound crossing the upper part of her back.
It did not look deep, although its position prevented Clarke from properly covering it herself.
"Are you planning to keep staring at me?" Clarke asked while picking up the bandage before the moisture completely soaked it.
Gaelira looked toward one of the pools, although the steam failed to hide the heat beginning to rise to her face. "I was trying to figure out how you managed to injure yourself somewhere you can't even reach."
"That's none of your business." Clarke passed the bandage over her shoulder again, trying to catch it with her other hand behind her back.
The movement pulled at the wound and forced her to stop with a grimace. "I can do it myself."
She could walk to another pool and pretend she had seen nothing, but leaving Clarke struggling with a bandage seemed too cruel even for someone who had tried to get her expelled from Crownspire on her first day.
She approached the bench and extended her hand. "You could do it yourself if you had a second arm growing out of your back. Since that doesn't seem to be the case, let me help."
Clarke held her gaze for several seconds. The possibility of accepting help from the rival who had defeated her seemed more painful than the wound itself.
Finally, she picked up the jar of ointment beside her and handed it to Gaelira. "Only because I don't want to show up tomorrow with a badly placed bandage. Don't mistake this for trust."
"I would never dare." Gaelira sat behind her and opened the jar, trying to make her voice sound calmer than she felt.
From that distance, she could see small drops of water trapped between Clarke's white strands and the faint reddish color covering her ears.
Gaelira took a little ointment with two fingers and spread it around the wound. Clarke shivered at the first touch, although she kept her back straight and pretended nothing had happened.
Her skin was warmer than the water in the pools, and their closeness forced Gaelira to control every movement to avoid brushing against areas that did not need attention.
"How did you do this?" Gaelira asked while carefully cleaning one edge.
Clarke took some time to answer, as if deciding how much she could admit without losing her dignity.
"I was practicing with my sword. I changed direction too late and the blade came back before I could stop it." Her gaze dropped toward the bandage Gaelira was beginning to prepare.
"I don't need you to explain the mistake. I already know what it was."
"I wasn't going to." Gaelira passed the cloth beneath one of her arms and caught the end on the other side.
The position forced her closer until her chest almost brushed Clarke's back. "Although it is reassuring to know that Moonveil's best swordswoman can make mistakes too."
Clarke turned her face slightly and they ended up far too close. The steam softened the edges of the room, but it did not hide the green eyes now looking directly at Gaelira's lips.
Neither spoke for several seconds. Gaelira was the first to pull away and focused on the bandage again, annoyed with herself for allowing such a small movement to change her breathing.
Gaelira wrapped the bandage around her torso a second time, making sure not to tighten it too much. "I'd rather defeat you when you can hold a sword. It would be disappointing to discover my rival defeated herself while practicing."
The answer caused a brief smile to appear on Clarke's face, so small that it vanished before Gaelira could be sure she had seen it.
Her body began to relax as the bandage covered the wound, although every time Gaelira's fingers brushed her side, she held her breath again.
Gaelira was not doing any better. She had pinned Clarke to the ground during her evaluation without feeling this uncomfortable, but back then there had been a sword, a fight, and several people watching them.
Now it was only the two of them, covered by towels, surrounded by steam, and far too aware of every touch.
When Gaelira finished the final knot, she left her hands resting on Clarke's shoulders for an instant to make sure the bandage would not move.
Clarke raised one of her hands and brushed against Gaelira's fingers before slowly pulling away. "It's properly placed," she admitted with some reluctance. "I suppose I owe you one."
"I'll remember those words the next time you try to get me expelled."
Clarke stood from the bench and picked up her clean clothes. The movement made the towel tighten around her figure, forcing Gaelira to focus her attention on the ointment jar.
Clarke noticed the gesture and confidence gradually returned to her expression. "You're not telling anyone about this. Especially that Stormwing girl who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut."
Gaelira closed the jar and handed it back. "I wasn't planning to tell Bellamie, but now I'm curious about what she'd say."
Clarke stepped closer to take it, although instead of leaving, she remained in front of her.
Her fingers closed around Gaelira's hand and lingered longer than necessary before taking the container away.
The distance between them shortened again until Gaelira could make out the drops running from Clarke's white hair down her neck.
The green eyes lowered toward their hands and a satisfied smile appeared on the Moonveil girl's face.
Clarke tilted her head until her voice barely rose above the sound of water falling into the pools.
"When you had a sword against my neck, you weren't trembling like this."