Kleo poached the fish using a small amount of brackish water from the pool. As they ate their meal, Jack expressed his gratitude in a simple, earnest way that pleased her. She flashed a rare, genuine smile before they settled into a comfortable silence. Jack had tried to make conversation, asking about her travels and experiences, but she responded as she always did—pleasant but reserved, never elaborating, keeping the exchange polite yet impersonal.


    Kleo rose to clear away the remnants when their small meal was finished.


    Jack held up a hand. "You''ve done everything else. Let me clean this up. Maybe afterward, you would tell me about that strange figure we saw earlier? I nearly wet myself when I saw it," he admitted with a half-smile.


    She laughed—a sound that surprised him, a genuine, lilting laugh that softened her features.


    "Then you’d better start carrying a spare pair of trousers," she teased, chuckling again as she rose.


    "I think I’ll enjoy the pool for a bit. I’m tired of smelling like fish."


    Jack nodded as he gathered up the remains of their meal, relieved to have something to focus on. He carried the waste to the designated disposal area, lifting the stone cover to reveal a deep, funnel-shaped hole that exuded an acrid odor. He wrinkled his nose, but the smell dissipated quickly as he replaced the cover.


    Turning back toward the pool, Jack''s breath caught in his throat.


    Kleo stood at the edge, lifting her shirt over her head. He felt compelled to look away but couldn’t; he was captivated.


    Her torso was long and elegant, her slender back curving gently toward her hips, where a soft hollow formed above her waist. He noticed the subtle roundness of her stomach, the smooth curves of her breasts, and the length of her well-toned arms. Her beauty was breathtaking.


    Freeing her hair from its leather tie, she shook it loose, letting the golden-brown strands tumble down her shoulders and back like a cascade of sunlight on the water’s edge, almost reaching the hollow above her hips. Seemingly unaware of his gaze, she was unhurried, running her hands over her hair to shake free the bits of grass and debris gathered over the day’s journey.


    Guilt prickled at his conscience, an internal voice reminding him to turn away, but his stare was more than mere curiosity; it was a fascination with the unguarded beauty she radiated. He was enthralled, as if caught in some spell woven by her presence.


    She unclasped her pants, letting them fall to the ground with ease, then stepped gracefully out of them. She stood unapologetically bare, moving with a fluidity that spoke of someone deeply comfortable in her skin. Twisting her hair over one shoulder, she ran her fingers through it, unaware of his gaze or, perhaps, simply unbothered by it.


    Entranced, he barely dared to breathe, acutely aware of his body’s reaction. For a moment, he wondered if she had slipped something into the fish to make him feel this way, so completely drawn to her. And he could only deny his arousal for so long. Glancing away, he tried to compose himself, embarrassed that his desire might be showing.


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    When he looked back, she had moved toward the pool, descending the stone steps with measured grace, stopping when the water reached her waist. The soft sway of her hips, the curve of her legs: every movement was unhurried and unconcerned. She paused at the edge of the stairs, turning her gaze directly to him with an expression that seemed to say, Well?


    The unspoken invitation hung in the air, and Jack hesitated, unsure of his footing. Something about her left him feeling slightly off-balance. Whenever he thought he was beginning to understand her, she surprised him, disrupting his sense of her and tilting everything onto a strange, exhilarating axis.


    Jack’s sense of propriety warred with his curiosity. He knew he was attractive enough—tall and lean, with the toned muscles of someone who worked hard to survive. His green eyes and easy smile had often caught women''s attention in Cabal.


    He moved toward the pool, undressing. Kleo had entered the water and was now floating on her back, arms stretched out, her body buoyant in the salty pool. She let her legs drift apart in an entirely unselfconscious way, then she dipped her head under the water, emerging slowly, her face glistening with droplets that shimmered in the faint glow.


    Jack took a deep breath, finally releasing the last of his clothing. He felt her eyes upon him, a subtle but undeniable scrutiny. She nodded in approval, her lips curving slightly before she turned away, diving beneath the pool''s surface.


    He entered the water, letting its warmth envelop him. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before. The salt-laden pool soothed his tired muscles, washing away the layers of dust and tension. Kleo floated near him, her damp hair clinging to her skin, her body bathed in iridescent drops that glistened like tiny gems.


    “Try floating,” she suggested. “It’s easier than you think.”


    Taking her advice, he tilted back slowly until he was suspended in the warm embrace of the pool. His ears rested below the water, muting the sounds around him and creating a strange, peaceful isolation. He felt weightless, disconnected from his worries, thoughts, and even his sense of self. For a moment, he was simply a body adrift in a saltwater womb, untouched by fear or desire. He floated there, blissfully unaware of the passage of time, savoring this rare, beautiful solitude.


    Then he felt the water ripple beside him—a gentle touch as Kleo’s fingers trailed along his skin, a fleeting, electric contact that sent a shiver up his spine. He looked over, catching her eyes as she rested against the pool wall, her gaze fixed on him.


    When he drew closer, she tilted her head, her expression thoughtful.


    “Are you ready to talk?” she asked, “Or would you rather soak a bit longer?”


    Jack considered her question, his mind drifting back to reality. “We can get out,” he said, his voice soft. “The pool will be here later.”


    She nodded and, without further ceremony, turned to the pool’s edge, pushing herself up from the water.


    “Give me a hand,” she called, glancing back at him.


    With a hesitant laugh, he placed his hands firmly on her hips, giving her a gentle boost as she lifted herself from the water.


    She murmured a soft thanks, reaching for her shirt to dry off before settling on the bedrolls.


    Jack followed, lying beside her, feeling at ease for the first time since they’d met. Her calm presence guided him, anchoring his nerves.


    She lay beside him, resting her head on her arm, and they felt like companions for the first time.


    He could sense her peacefulness, a feeling that didn’t need words.


    Something had changed between them like light brushing away the shadows or warmth pushing away the cold. It seemed surreal.


    They were two travelers on the same path, bound by circumstance but sharing something intangible—an unspoken connection that felt more real than anything he could name.