“Those aren’t real flowers.” None that she recognized anyway.
“In Azaros they are very real.”
“You’ve been there? To Azaros?”
“Many times,” Theodon replied. “The fae supply us here with food and other comforts. Our fliers can get there and back in half a day.”
That’s how he was familiar with Matthias. The fae not only knew the Divine Allura existed, they helped them thrive out here.
“Fliers?” She let her hand roam over the selection.
“Descendants of Zoros make up our winged ranks.”
Zoros, the God of Wind.
Theodon pointed to the sconces. “The fire bringers from Ignos’s bloodline keep the sconces burning underground, and those who possess their power from Thentos shield the fortress. We all contribute something up here.”
It was extraordinary, hearing how they worked together.
“And your lieutenants? Which bloodline do they descend from?”
“Manos possesses gifts from Sara, our Goddess of Wisdom, and Callum, he came from Olimir.”
Olimir, God of Protection.
She wanted to ask about every single demigod here, inquire about their bloodline, their powers. But the bath was more tempting. She could soak in this warm water for an eternity, douse those colorful bottles all over her body. She pulled her pants down past her knees, and unfurled the well-knotted bandages. She assessed her leg, confirming the wounds had fully closed and only a couple of scabs remained. Fully submerging with an open wound would surely lead to an infection, and that’s the last thing she needed up here.
She was so excited at the prospect of getting clean, she almost forgot Theodon was there. She sat down on the cool ground, trying to shield her body as best she could while she completely removed her pants.
But he wasn’t looking at her. In fact he was making a painful effort to not look, that scowling face deep in thought.
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes to the stone. “No, I just feel... foolish. I have lived here a very long time. It’s easy to forget not everyone does things as we do. We are not a place of modesty or shame for our bodies?—”
“I am not ashamed of my body!” she fired back, although a little uncertain.
He scrunched his eyes, pinching the skin between them. “Ididn’tsay you were... I just should have realized you would want more privacy. No one here is royal. Everyone under this mountain was pulled from the slums or cities where public bathhouses are common. Not everything I say is an attack, Highness.”
She scoffed. “No, just most of the things you say.” Olive branch or not, conversations with this male always left her defensive and angry.
His jaw clenched tight before he turned around to face the opposite wall.
“I doubt I have anything they would want to see anyway,” she whispered to herself.
She reached for the brass on the leather top and realized she hadn’t the slightest clue how to take it off. The pants rolled down easy enough, but there were clasps on this skintight shirt that made no sense. Even her most complex corsets didn’t have pieces like this.
Come on. Come on.
She made one more hopeless attempt, then conceded her defeat.
“Theodon...” This was going to be humiliating.
He turned. She watched his eyes roam toward her exposed legs.
“I can’t get it off.” She tried one last time to fumble with the contraption of an outfit, pleading for it to come undone.
He hung back, tilting his head as if he wasn’t sure what she was asking of him.
