I glance sideways at her.
There’s an easy camaraderie in her words–like she’s already decided I’m someone worth walking beside. Someone worth…defending.
It warms something small and vulnerable within my chest, and I bite my bottom lip before a smile can spread in response.
“First, we’ll get you a bath,” Ilyria announces, her voice echoing softly off the stone as she crosses the room with purpose. Steam drifts in delicate ribbons from a large oblong shape nestled beside the fire. It takes a moment but the word comes to me:tub.
Folded linens sit neatly on a nearby bench, their clean scent already reaching my nose, mingling withthe fainter earthy notes of something herbal. Beside them, a small stack of soft fabric waits in offering.
Ilyria reaches for a small glass jar on the side table. “This should help with any bruising or cuts,” she says as she unscrews the lid. “My own recipe, but I should warn you, it smells atrocious.”
Her nose wrinkles slightly as she sniffs it to confirm. “I focused on function, not fragrance.”
I manage the faintest smile. “That’s…reassuring.”
She glances up and gestures loosely toward the coat draped around my shoulders. “You can set that aside. I promise not to stare.”
I hesitate.
It isn’t modesty that knots my stomach. That feeling was handed to me the moment the kings found me, but I’ve never claimed it as my own. Since waking, I’ve had no real agency. Even choosing between the four supposed kings wasn’t much of a choice.
Now, something as simple as deciding when I’ll uncover my skin feels like a form of power I’m unsure I want to relinquish. My hands tighten around the bottom of it as my fingers brush against the fabric.
Ilyria doesn’t push. She just waits, still and quiet, making the choice wholly mine.
Somehow, that makes it easier, and eventually my hands let go of the dirty fabric.
With slow movements, I shrug the coat from my shoulders and fold it over the back of a nearbychair. The cool air brushes across my bare skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ilyria’s gaze stays politely turned while I step forward and lower myself into the tub inch by inch, the heat kissing my skin in a slow, stinging caress before melting into something deeply soothing. I exhale as it wraps around me.
The silence stretches, companionable and oddly tender for having just met this woman.
Then Ilyria speaks, her voice so soft I almost miss it. “You look like someone who hasn’t been taken care of in a very long time.”
The words land like a stone in me, weighing my mind and body down.
Has anyone ever taken care of me?
I don’t answer my own question, nor her statement.
A strange sadness blooms beneath my ribs, sudden and quiet, and impossible to place. I sit with it, letting it breathe through me, sharp-edged and searching. I don’t know what about her words opened that door inside me, I only know it did.
“Lean your head back,” she murmurs gently.
Her fingers sink into my hair and guide me down, submerging me just far enough that my scalp warms. The scent of lavender rises from the water as she massages the oil through the strands with a firm, practiced touch. I close my eyes, and for the first time since Iwoke in that clearing, I allow myself to relax. Just a little.
Once my hair is rinsed, she places a few bars and bottles beside me with quiet instructions. I bathe in silence, scrubbing away dirt, blood, and ash with slow, deliberate movements, careful to not brush my ribs.
When I finally step out of the tub, the air is cooler, but I don’t flinch. I wrap a thick linen around myself, the fabric soft against my freshly cleaned skin.
She kneels to grab the opened jar, then dips two fingers inside.
“Would you like help?” she asks, tone carefully neutral. “There are some spots you won’t be able to reach.”
I nod once before letting the linen fall.
She doesn’t ask how I got my wounds. Doesn’t comment on the way I wince when she brushes too close to a rib. She just works.
It settles an underlying anxiety that I hadn’t realized was humming through my body.
