Page 29 of Death Will Follow

Nova caught Nox’s eye and nodded her understanding. He smiled at her, then turned his attention to Lucan, making amends by playfully nudging the commander’s leg with the toe of his boot.

“I know, I know.” Lucan held his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “I promise to be on my best behavior.” Though his tone was glib, Nova knew Lucan always sought Nox’s approval above all else.

“I’ve brought something for you.” Nox rose from the sofa and slipped through the door into his bedchamber. When he returned, her silk gown lay draped over his forearms, the rich oxblood fabric cascading to the floor in a crimson waterfall. “I thought you might like something special to wear to the Council meeting tomorrow.”

Nova ran her fingertips over the fine silk. She’d last worn the gown when she sat for her portrait that now hung in the Silvergard Estate; it certainly lent her a commanding presence. Though Nova was grateful her mask of indifference was no longer a permanent fixture upon her face, she still saw it for the weapon it was. Knew when to wield it and when to lay it at her feet.

Like her mask, the dress was a costume. A disguise.

“Yes, I’m pleased you brought it,” she said softly, taking the dress from her uncle and carefully laying it over the high back of an armchair.

“Stop scratching,” Nox chided behind her.

She turned to find Lucan pawing at his chest, one hand shoved under the collar of his tunic.

“But it itches like a bastard,” the commander growled.

“What happened to you?” Nova asked, lowering herself into the chair and hooking her legs over the arm. “Don’t tell me you’ve got fleas.”

Lucan shot her a withering look. “I do not have fleas.”

Nox pulled Lucan’s hand from inside his tunic and held it firmly to prevent Lucan from scratching further. “The commander refused to sleep on a cot inside the tent while we traveled here—”

“Don’t call that monstrosity a tent,” Lucan interrupted, rubbing his opposite fist across his chest. “It’s a miniature palace with canvas walls. I was living in a forest and sleeping on the ground when you first met me.”

“That may be so,” her uncle chuckled. “But I’m not the one who woke to find I’d made my bed atop a nest of stinging ants.”

Nox laid a soothing hand over Lucan’s chest, and the commander tilted his head to the side. Nova could feel the adoration passing between them.

She sat with them a while longer, laughing as they shared more tales from their journey. When their dinner arrived, Nova gathered up her gown and took her leave of them, returning to her own suite of rooms.

Hoping to avoid Thorn, Nova crept through the candlelit parlor. She noted Bryn was absent and entered her and Callan’s bedchamber, gently closing the door behind her. The room was empty and quiet apart from the muffled sound of sloshing water from the other side of the door leading to the bathing chamber. After hanging her gown in the wardrobe, she shucked off her travel dress, stripping down to her shift.

Knocking softly, she entered the bathing chamber lit by several candles arranged on a branched wooden candlestick. Steam fogged the mirror mounted on the wall. Callan lounged in the large copper soaking tub, his head tilted back and his knees peeking out above the water’s surface. His beard was short and shaped, tamed in preparation for the Council meeting. Nova perched on the edge of the tub and dipped her hand in, trailing her fingers back and forth.

“Here you are,” she murmured, bringing her hand to rest atop one of his exposed knees.

Callan cracked an eye at her, a lazy smile spreading across his face. With a groan, he repositioned himself to sit up straighter with his back leaned against the end of the tub. His knee dipped beneath the water, taking Nova’s hand with it.

“I offered to help with a cart stuck in the mud and wound up covered in it. At least, I hope it was mud.”

Nova yanked her hand back, wrinkling her nose at the water dripping from the ends of her fingers.

“This is fresh water.” He smiled once more. “Purely for relaxation.” Sighing contentedly, he tilted his head back once again.

“Is there room for me?”

“Always.” Callan’s grin deepened, the hint of a dimple showing on his left cheek without a full beard to hide it.

Slipping the thin straps off her shoulders, Nova let her shift fall to the floor. Callan held out a hand to steady her as she stepped over the tub’s edge. She laughed softly as some of the water spilled over the side and splashed onto the floor. Once she’d lowered herself to sit in front of him, she relaxed, leaning back to rest against his chest.

“This water feels incredible,” she hummed.

Callan let out a low grunt of agreement.

“Here, let me wash your hair for you.” Callan positioned her so she sat forward, hugging her knees as he nimbly untied the leather cord from her braid. Gently combing with his fingers, he sent the black strands tumbling over her shoulders and into her face.

“Gods, it’s a mess,” she groaned, smoothing her wet hands over the loose waves.