Page 95 of A Reckless Indulgence

Lyx’s eyes darken on some distant memory. Her fingers curl around the shell in her hand. “How careless to leave something so powerful out in the open.”

“It was only meant to collect pleasure. We didn’t —” Heathen bites their tongue with a remorseful shake of their head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”

Lyx’s scales are still raised, but she eases back next to Cav.

Heathen pushes the hair out of their eyes and watches the Indulgence slowly being towed back to shore. “You two should rest. There’s a cottage down the path through the trees. We can finish this in the morning.”

The thought of a bed makes Cav’s entire body throb. The weight of the night settles over him, churning through his aching muscles and tired limbs. Lyx takes some of his weight, and the two begin to make their way toward the forest.

“And Lyx?” Heathen calls after them. When they turn, she’s kneeling to take an oyster in her hand. There’s an almost sadness to her motions as she traces what remains of its shape. “I can’t change what happened, but I would like to try to make it right. If you’ll take it, there’s a place for you on our ship.” She swipes a line of soot with her finger. “Whatever’s left of it.”

Behind her, Cypher folds her arms across her chest. A smirk flickers on Lyx’s lips. “Because I know about the pearls. About how you collect pleasure. Keep your enemies close.”

Heathen’s lip quirks. “I do not consider you my enemy, but I would be foolish not to keep that information under wraps…but that’s not the only reason.” They look past Lyx to Cav. “Someone told me that the beauty of the Indulgence is that it’s safe. If you’re looking for that, I hope we can provide it.” After a long moment, Heathen bows their head. “The offer’s on the table. Think it over.”

FORTY

Lyx

Lyx helps Cav through the woods. Around them, the forest slowly returns to life, whirring and calling without the threat of fire. They come across an outdoor shower, and Lyx sits Cav on the wooden bench and washes the soot from both of them until the water runs clear.

The nearby cottage is quaint, one large room strewn with clothing and alcove beds carved around the windows. Lyx finds a bed that’s undisturbed and eases Cav up against the pillows before she rifles through the others’ bags.

Cav’s lip quirks. “Stealing from our hosts?”

Lyx gathers fresh clothing and potion bottles, summoning the words through the painful vice of her throat. “I’d say we’ve earned it.” She returns to the bed and dresses them both, plying Cav with medicine and water. He makes her pour all of it from her hand.

By the time she’s done, his breathing is still shallow, but his cough has calmed from violent to sporadic bursts. His eyelids are heavy where his head lolls against the pillows. Even after treatment, the burns on his body are still vicious beneath the bandages, raw skin surrounded by crusted blood.

Lyx digs her nails into her palm. She wishes it was Tidus’s neck. Her hatred has amplified. It doesn’t matter that he’s gone, that he’s gotten what he deserves. She wants to give him more. It’s a cruel twist of fate that when Tidus had the shell, he held all her power. She felt useless without it. Hopeless. Weak. Yet now that her song is gone for good, just seeing Cav’s wounds makes her feel deadly. Suddenly, she could kill Tidus with her bare hands. Maybe she could bring him back just to make him suffer. Maybe the ocean would help. Maybe —

“Are you going to leave again?” Cav’s voice is little more than a whisper, his eyes barely cracked in their war against exhaustion. There is no doubt in his expression. He already knows the answer, body braced for the familiar feeling of falling asleep together and waking up alone.

That breaks something in Lyx’s chest. It’s a crack she’s long ignored, but the chisel of Cav’s eyes finds the seam and taps it gently. When that fissure opens, the hate boiling inside her begins to leak and leave room for something else. She sinks down on the end of the bed. “Yes.”

Cav doesn’t flinch, but a deep-seated hurt blooms behind his eyes.

Lyx’s heart trips. She has to say the rest. She has to speak the words she’s wanted to say since the last night in the grotto. Roughly, she swallows. “And I want you to come with me.”

Cav tries to sit up, wincing and coughing, but she reaches out to still him.

“I don’t want to rejoin the Indulgence,” she says. “Right now, I want…” Hesitantly, she rests the heel of her hand on the mattress. Without thinking, she reaches toward his, and he mirrors her to slot their fingers between each other. Her chest flutters. “I want to decide where I go. What I do. I want to be free. I know that ship is your home —”

“It’s not my home if you aren’t there.” He presses their palms together, lowering his head to catch her eyes. “I mean it. Take me with you. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” He winces when his wounds shift. “I may be slower now, but —”

“I’ll wait.” She flushes at her own eagerness. It surprises her, almost as much as his. No one would follow a siren without some convincing…no one, except for Cav.

He lifts a hand to run his thumb down the column of her throat. His face is etched with regret, like she’s not the only one holding her pain. “I’m sorry we didn’t get your song back. That was the only thing you wanted.”

For the first time, she faces it fully. Her eyes close. She swallows again, breathing deep and sinking into the loss. This pain is different. It’s not the separation she spent years accepting; it is a void, a chasm, an emptiness that cannot be filled. When she reaches outside of herself, there is no painful response. There is nothing. Nothing to call to. Nothing to answer her.

Her throat aches like she screamed it raw, like a hand reached into her mouth and dragged out her vocal cords. Every breath gets caught on the gaping wound, but when she opens her eyes, Cav sits in front of her. When she looks at him, a balm smooths over the pain. The sight of him alone dulls the ache until it’s easier to bear. “I’m not sorry.”

It’s blasphemy coming from a siren, but somehow, that feels good. It’s freeing. She’s never found these words before, but they rise to the surface like the empty space in her is desperate to be filled.

“I spent my whole life seeking misery, because I was supposed to. I was made to create turmoil. To fight — my siblings, the hunters…my emotions.” Her eyes dip. “I was like the tide, moved by these forces out of my control. My song was just another thing to pull on me. But I needed it, because it was the only way to get what I wanted — but what did I want? Why did I want it?”

The words feel like they’re spilling out of her now, possessed by the effusive spirit that always has a hold on Cav.