“I need to heal my back,” I called out to him, trying to hide the irritation in my tone.
He picked up the bucket and went outside anyway.
I pulled a stone mortar and pestle from one of the shelves. Dropping the leaves into the mortar, I mashed them into a bluish pulp, an oily sheen forming on top. I poured the oil into a smaller bowl.
Torin pushed through the door again, ramrod straight, and poured the water into the cauldron.
I dipped my finger into the oil. It stained my pinkie sapphire, and I rubbed it onto my back, feeling absolutely nothing because my injury had healed. “Ahh,” I said loudly, pretending relief. “That’s better. Torin?”
He paused on his way back to the door with the bucket and turned to look at me, the firelight sculpting his chest with gold and shadows .
I cleared my throat. “I have a whole bunch extra here if you need any. I don’t want it to go to waste.”
I crossed over to him and handed him the oil. Torin’s pale eyes glinted with amusement, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I know what you’re doing, and I have survived worse, changeling. You don’t need to make a fuss over me.”
“All I care about right now is food,” I lied. “And we’ll eat sooner if you can walk faster. If I don’t eat, I could die. And that would be on you, king.”
A small, rueful smile curled the corner of his lips. “I can’t have that.” He took the oil from me. “But you can sit down now. I’m getting us bathwater.”
I bit my lip, trying to layer a little desperation into my voice. “I’d actually feel better if I could move, Torin. I was cooped up for so long in a cell, being confined in here is the last thing I need. I’m desperate to feel my freedom. And also, I believe you promised me food? I am absolutely starving. So I’d prefer if you didn’t delay it by wasting your cooking time fetching water.” Before he could object, I snatched the bucket off the warped floorboards and strode into the marine-tinged air.
If Torin had any sense, he’d be cleaning and healing his feet right now. But maybe Morgant had beaten the sense out of him.
Outside, I kept my senses alert for the sound of oncoming soldiers, but I only heard the mournful call of an owl, the rush of wind through the boughs, and the waves crashing against the cliff. I knelt at the riverside to fill the bucket from the burbling stream.
Gods, it felt amazing to be out of that dungeon. I really did crave the freedom to walk around, even if my muscles screamed at me.
Rising on aching legs, I carried the bucket back to the house, the weight of it dragging on my arm. As I approached the faded blue door, Torin stepped outside, a lock of his dark hair falling in his face. This time, his muscles looked relaxed, his hands in the pockets of his dirt-stained pants. Clearly, he’d used the healing oil, and I felt a little twinge of pride that I’d helped him. “I’m going to get you food, changeling. Like you said, I don’t want you to starve to death on my watch.”
A smile ghosted over my lips. “I’m ravenous.”
In and out I moved, filling up the bucket and pouring it into the giant teapot contraption to boil, then dumping the hot water into the tub.
But I wasn’t about to fill this bath twice, was I? It would be just about large enough for two.
As I dragged the water in and out of the house, Torin returned with a pheasant and juniper berries. While I filled the bath, he plucked and salted the meat, then rubbed it with herbs and old port from one of the cupboards. He speared the pheasant on a spit to roast in the fireplace.
At last, the tub was filled with hot water, and steam coiled from the bath. The smell of the roasting pheasant made it difficult to concentrate on anything but what it would taste like, mouthwatering and succulent.
Torin turned the pheasant on its spit, his sharp jawline and high cheekbones cast in the warm glow of the hearth .
“Torin,” I said, “you are getting in this tub with me.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I…what?”
“That took over twenty minutes. I’m not filling it again. And I’m not dealing with the guilt of taking the only bath. We were both tortured in the cells. We’ll both take a bath, facing in opposite directions.”
His eyes danced. “If you really want to see me naked, changeling, you could just ask.”
“It’s not like that.” I closed my eyes. “We will each face the opposite direction. I’ll face left, you right. It’s only practical.”