Yulia hurled her heavy, water-soaked dress onto the marble tile.

Caerus leaned against the stone wall, a towel wrapped low on his hips. He watched her with a jagged, amused curiosity.

Yulia marched through the water, her white slip clinging to her frame. She forced her face into a snarl, trying to look like a dangerous predator.

Damn it. Why is he so much taller?

She slammed her hands against the wall on either side of his head, pinning the god in place.

She reached out, her fingers hooking under his cold, sharp jawline.

His skin felt like carved bone. His gaze remained detached, as if he were looking through her.

"Keep acting like this," Yulia hissed, "and I'll show you how cruel the world can be."

She was all talk. Her heart was a frantic bird in her chest.

"Oh?" Caerus didn't flinch. "Cruel?"

Yulia gritted her teeth. She pressed her palm against his chest.

His muscles were hard, radiating a deep, internal heat. Her brain felt like a scrambled mess of static.

She slid her hand down over the ridges of his abdomen.

"It's... it's decent," she stammered, her voice shaking. "But don't think you're special. I've seen better. Don't think you can tempt me."

Caerus looked at her. It was the calm look of an adult watching a toddler throw a tantrum.

Then his fingers snapped around her wrist.

Yulia's breath hitched.

He didn't move. He didn't use force. He just stood there, but the air in the spring grew heavy, crushing the oxygen from the room.

"You're bold," he said.

He reversed their positions with a blur of motion. Yulia hit the stone wall, his arms caging her in.

The shadow of the dragon-god swallowed her. He leaned in, his lips inches from her ear.

"God is one," he whispered, his voice vibrating through her bones. "God is supreme. God rules the entire world."

Steam clings to Yulia. Her golden hair curls against her wet shoulders, sapphire eyes bright like jewels in the dark water.

She tilts her head, water dripping from her rose-tinted lips. "And?"

Caerus grips her chin, his fingers cold against her jaw. "...And, God accepts no comparisons."

The realization hits her. He's actually sulking about being compared to other men.

"Look, I was just talking trash," Yulia says, leaning back in the hot water. "I've never touched anyone else. You're... perfect. Aesthetic. Hand-feel. Better than anyone."

Caerus yanks her out of the spring by her collar and tosses her onto the cold marble floor.

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The smiths haven't finished the pots. The warehouse stocks are hitting bottom.

Yulia checks the inventory, her mind already on the Wind-Kissed Forest. The maids mentioned rare beasts there with meat that tastes like magic.

"The meat is low," Yulia says during lunch, sliding a look toward the dragon. "I heard the forest has some rare cuts. I could go with Sir Menningen..."

"No," Caerus snaps, his fork clicking against the gold plate.

"Why?"

"I said so." He's still nursing a grudge from the springs.

"Then what are we eating?"

"Menningen can hunt," Caerus sneers, the corner of his lip twitching. "You'd only get in the way. You can barely manage basic Light Magic."

Yulia ignores the jab. To a genius like him, a top-tier score is still a failure.

"Fine," she says, a sharp smile touching her lips. "If Menningen is that reliable, he can check the smiths. He can learn how to whip the cream for the Milk Cap too."

The knight's jawbone clicks. "Whip... cream?"

"It's all you, Sir Menningen," Yulia chirps. "The most dexterous knight in the Abyss."

The skeleton knight grips his lance, his white knuckles rattling. "Dexterous? Princess, I think you have the wrong idea..."

"It's just for the Milk Cap," Yulia adds, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It won't be a disaster if you fail to learn it. Probably."

Caerus pauses, his hand hovering over his tea. He thinks about the promised foam.

"Menningen hunts," he rumbles, eyes cold. "I'm going with you."

He catches himself, realizing how fast he folded. He shoots Yulia a lethal glare.

"If the drink isn't good, I'll kill you."

The ultimate tsundere, Yulia thinks.

Caerus tries to manifest a gown made of shimmering stardust and jewels. Yulia waves it away, pulling on a plain, grey linen dress borrowed from Molly.

The fabric is simple. No lace. No silver thread.

Caerus stares at the dress, his brow knotting into a deep furrow. "That's hideous."

"We're going incognito," Yulia says, ignoring him. "No titles. No kneeling. Just a walk."

The memory of those elderly smiths hitting the dirt at the sight of her makes her skin crawl. She doesn't want to lose years of her life to that much bad karma.

"Don't give me orders," Caerus growls.

Yulia gathers her skirts and drops into a mock, shallow curtsy. "I beg you, Lord Caerus."

Her voice drips with sarcasm. Caerus lets it slide, his mind already on the cream.

He punishes her anyway, spinning the dragon form through a series of sickening barrel rolls as they cross the Necro-wall.

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Afternoon sun hits the Old Pigeon Cage district. The streets are cramped, the air thick with the smell of coal and cheap grease.

Yulia hits the ground and stumbles toward a wall, dry-heaving. She shoots a murderous look at the black-haired man.

"Even Jojo is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Caerus."

"Gods aren't gentlemen," he says, stepping over a puddle. "Gods set the laws. All laws serve the divine will."

They find Alik's forge. His wife, lean and sun-baked, is tilling a small plot of dry earth with her five-year-old son, Bacon.

The boy tugs on her threadbare skirt. "Mom, I'm hungry."

His mother's hands are calloused, the skin cracked and grey with dust. "Sweetie, you ate last night."

"I'm hungry again," Bacon whispers.

She sighs, leaning on her hoe. "We have to save the food for your father. He's working for the High Lords at the Temple. If he stops, we're dead. Can you be brave?"

Bacon nods, his eyes wandering toward the road. He stops, staring at the two strangers with wide, hollow eyes.

"Are you... angels from the Kingdom?"

He's a small, ragged bird of a child. He tilts his head, his nose twitching. "You smell... good."

Yulia pulls a wrapped sandwich from her pocket. She'd packed it for their dinner.

"Angels only drink dew," Yulia says, kneeling in the dirt. "We're not angels. We like sandwiches. Want some?"

The scent of fresh bread and smoked meat hits the air. The boy freezes, his mouth hanging open.

"You're giving him our dinner?" Caerus asks, his shadow falling over them.

"Is that a problem?" Yulia pats the boy's dusty hair. "Look at him. He's starving."

Caerus looks down at the child. The hunger in the boy's eyes is a raw, vibrating thing.

"God created man," Caerus says, his voice flat and detached. "Fate belongs to the individual. If some live in luxury, others must starve. God gives the soul, but man makes the road."

Yulia goes quiet.

"Bacon! What are you doing?"

The mother rushes forward, her eyes darting between her son and the white bread in Yulia's hand. "He didn't steal! I swear! He's just hungry! Bacon, apologize to the Lady and the Gentleman!"

"I didn't steal," the boy whimpers, backing toward his mother. "Not this time."

Yulia quickly stands. "He didn't do anything. We were just talking."

Caerus turns toward the street, his patience gone. "Can we leave now?"

Alik's wife bows her head low. "Of course... so sorry to waste the time of you and your wife..."

"Wife?" Caerus stops, his head tilting.

"Oh, I... I just thought..." She looks up, her voice trembling but sincere. "You look so right together. Like a Holy Son and a Saintess. A perfect match."

Caerus's golden eyes flick to Yulia.

"Yulia."

"What?"

"Give them the sandwiches."

Yulia blinks. "But our dinner?"

Caerus brushes a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Have Jojo bring more later. Are you really that greedy?"