CHAPTER 39
The quick splashing of water had stopped. Ten minutes had bled into twenty, and the silence of the woods had reclaimed itself.
Isabella floated near the edge of the lake, arms wrapped loosely around herself, chest-deep in the dark water.
Her fingers were numb but her skin finally free of the stinging grit of the obsidian salt. A few yards away, Clara was a silent statue, her head tilted back as she watched the steam rise from her own shoulders.
Lucian was gone. The moment he was sure they wouldn't turn into salt pillars, he had vanished back toward the cabin to take care of the disaster.
Through the bond, Isabella could feel him moving with a restless and irritated energy. Isabella cleared her throat. "So," she dragged out.
"I'm guessing the 'bathroom' doesn't come with towels." Clara huffed a weak breath and said nothing. She didn't look at Isabella. Didn't rise to the bait.
