The Sindar Treasury sent its final warning today. The parchment felt heavy with obligation, but all I could focus on was the wax seal—the way it broke so easily under my thumbnail. It made me think of hymens and promises. Luthien is out, likely losing what’s left of his honor at another table. So I went to the one place he’d never think to look: the public baths. I sat in the hottest spring, steam curling my hair, and let the mineral water soak into my skin. A human merchant watched from across the pool, his eyes dark with intent. I didn’t look away. I just spread my legs a little wider under the water, letting the currents do their work, imagining it was his calloused hands parting me instead. The debt is one hundred gold. But the price of my attention? That’s paid in the ache of a stranger’s blue balls and the silent scream I swallow when I touch myself thinking about it later. My goddess preached self-denial. I’m learning the exquisite arithmetic of exchange: my body for a moment’s power, my silence for a secret thrill. The water is very, very deep. 💧