“I’ll leave you to bathe.” He dropped his bag on the floor and gently pushed me farther into the room so he could shut the door.
I’d bathed in the river that morning. But that had involved shivering until it felt like my bones would break and cursing at the lack of soap. Now, I could laze in this cracked, clawed tub for as long as I liked.
My clothes hit the floor within moments, and I was stepping into the bath, sighing as I leaned back in the candlelight. The water was almost too hot—just the way I liked it—and whoever had drawn the bath had left behind vanilla-scented soap.
This. Was. Paradise.
I lathered every inch of myself, washed my hair, and leaned back once more.
Teasing Lorian, finally hearing him laugh…had been…fun. I’d thought I’d annoy him—and had been just fine with that idea—but hearing the rough mercenary truly laugh for the first time… Our eyes meeting without the usual rancor…
It had been nice. That was all. A nice, enjoyable moment in an otherwise monotonous travel day.
A moment that had—for reasons I didn’t understand—reminded me of my parents.
Gods, they’d laughed so often. They’d rarely fought, unless it was over me. The worst was when my parents took us to a wedding in the village. It was before we moved to our last village. The one I’d just…left.
I couldn’t recall who exactly was married that day, but I’d never forget the way the bride’s smile lit up her face when they vowed to be true to each other for all time.
When the groom took her in his arms and kissed her, the whole village cheered. I’d sighed, laying my head against my mother’s hip.
“I’m going to get married one day,” I’d announced. “Here in the village.”
My father had given me his amused, patient look. My mother had been battling a headache all day, and her voice had been sharp.
“No, you won’t, Prisca. Such things are not for you.”
My father’s expression had tightened, and he’d wrapped his arm around me. “Vuena,” he’d said warningly, and my mother had given him an impatient shrug.
“She needs to learn now. Better than to be disappointed later.”
“Let her have her dreams,” my father said softly. They hadn’t talked for the rest of the day.
A few months later, I’d learned exactly why such things weren’t for me. That was the first time I’d pulled that strange thread that had made time stop. But I’d vowed I would find a way to change my fate.
My mother continued to remind me I was different each time there was a wedding or a baby born or any of the other happy milestones of life.
“Prisca,” she would say, when my father was busy elsewhere. “Remember, this is not for you.”
And of course, like most people, the more I was told something wasn’t for me, the more I wanted it.
A knock sounded on the door.
I startled, an embarrassing squeak leaving my mouth. “One moment.”
Reaching for the bath sheet, I stood, wrapping it around me. The room was freezing, and I huddled by the tiny fire as I dragged on one of the mercenary’s shirts. Sure, they’d given me clothes, but I’d convinced them to let me keep a few of their shirts for sleeping.
“Who is it?”
“Lorian.”
“You can come in,” I called, and Lorian stepped inside. His eyes went dark, and I glanced down to see the shirt clinging to my damp skin, my nipples pressed against the cloth.
“That’s my shirt,” he said. Was his voice hoarse?
“Well, you can’t have it back.”
He rubbed his hand along his chin, still staring at me, and my toes curled on the cold floor. His gaze dropped to them, and he jerked his head toward the bed. “You’re cold. Get into bed.”
I complied. He began to strip.
My heart jumped into my throat. “What are you doing?”
“There’s still steam rising off that water, wildcat. If you think I’m letting a warm bath go to waste…”
That was my stomach swooping like I was on the edge of a precipice. “I can leave…”
“You’re not going anywhere alone. Close your eyes if the sight of a male body offends a lady as meek and modest as yourself.”
His tone implied there was nothing meek or modest about me. I glowered at his back. His skin was smooth, tanned, with thin white scars along his ribs, his back, his shoulders. He had the body of a warrior, and as his hands dropped to his pants, those muscles in his back rippled smoothly.