Page 64 of Drown Me Gently

“Always, my prince,” he whispered. “Always.”

And Auren—full of love and warmth and the man he’d waited a lifetime for—let himself believe it.

He let himself hope.

And he didn’t let go.

The bathhouse door slid open, releasing a wave of heat and the sharp, clean scent of eucalyptus oil. Their little cabin by the sea had a small basin fed by cool well water. Good enough for washing the grime from hands and face, but nothing like the true luxury of a real soak.

And Ulric needed it. If he were to be honest with himself, Ulric was aching.

Not in the way men ached after long days, but deep in his bones, deep in his roots. Holding onto his magic these past weeks was like gripping the handle of a water bucket while the gods poured more and more weight into it. Every minute, another drop. Every hour, heavier. His hands were slipping. His grip was failing.

And he knew it.

Tonight, he needed to feel renewed. To scrub away the sweat, the dead skin, the creeping weight of the inevitable. Even if just for a little while.

The bathhouse owner took one look at Ulric and Auren and perked up when Ulric pressed a coin pouch into his palm.

“Private use for the evening,” Ulric murmured.

The man tucked the coins away with a wink. “Take your time, my Lord. Everything’s prepared.”

Ulric nodded and turned toward Auren, who was already looking around wide-eyed. Steam curled through the air, softening the stone walls and wooden beams. Off to one side, low stools and gleaming basins stood ready for scrubbing. Beyond them stretched a tiled pool, filled with steaming, scented water, while lanterns threw rippling light across the surface.

“This is too big to be just for a single person,” Auren commented, noting the row of stools.

“It’s a bathhouse. Meant for many men at once, the women have one next door.”

“This is fancy.”

“I brought us to the upper ring of the city. Common coin will get you a bathhouse beside a farm where they use the same water as the pigs.”

Auren wrinkled his nose. “I appreciate the worth of your coin more and more each day.”

Ulric laughed. “Yes. There are many pirate treasures being passed around town these past few days.”

Auren glided to the center, bare feet sliding on damp tile. He spun in the dimly lit space like a dancer, the faint trickle of water his music.

“You paid for all this?” Auren asked. “I’m not shy, we could have kept it public.”

Ulric shrugged a little stiffly.

Auren smirked. “What? Shy, old man?”

Ulric gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not shy. I’ve visited more bathhouses than you have hairs on your head, sea-sprite.”

“Then why bribe the owner?” Auren teased, sidling closer, mischief in every line of him.

“I don’t want anyone gawking at you.”

Auren stopped short, blinking. “Gawking at me?”

“There might be… questions,” Ulric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re—” He gestured vaguely. “Very smooth. Most would notice.”

“Oh, come now. The sight of a man with no hair on his body can’t possibly be that much of a novelty.”

Ulric’s lips quirked despite himself. “You want the truth?”