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It was definitely removing the dirt, I decided, as the water once again ran brown. I tried not to let myself feel disgusted by that, given that I’d used soap on the strands back in the inns I’d stayed at. I had been clean before; I’d just lived in the forest for a bit.
That was over, though.
I had a… well, not a home, I supposed. A temporary living space. Or maybe a temporaryhome.
It struck me, as I washed my hair again, and again, that Namir and I weren’t temporary. Even if I left his castle, even when I went back out to the inn to find my friends, he and I would be fated. And if our bond continued to grow, there would be evidence of that on my throat, magically engraved into my skin.
I wasn’t sure whether I was unsettled by that, or calmed by it. My emotions were too difficult to read.
But my magic wasn’t gathering, my monster remaining dormant in my chest, so I at least didn’t feel in danger because of it.
When my hair was finally free of dirt, I slathered it in the conditioner. I’d noticed a wide-toothed comb resting on another shelf above the shampoo, so I grabbed that and ran it through my hair as the creamy solution sat on the strands, soaking them and softening them. They were much easier to detangle than they had ever been before, and surprise flooded me as it slid through my hair like it was silk.
I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to leave the conditioner in, so I just continued combing it for a while, leaning up against the wall while the water ran over my legs and chest. It was warm, and comfortable, and nice. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so relaxed in my life.
When I grew tired of standing and decided I was ready to sleep, I set the comb back in its place and rinsed the conditioner from my hair, musing to myself in shock as I realized the strands were now just as soft and smooth without the conditioner in as they had been with it in.
Annoyance had my jaw clenching.
Namir must’ve been lying to me in the forest; my hair had felt scratchy, then, and he was used to feeling smooth hair, softened and detangled by conditioner.
I shut the water off and looked for a towel. The closest thing I found to that was a large, white robe. It had arm holes, so I shoved my arms through and awkwardly used the thick, soft fabric to dry my body. My hair was still dripping wet, so I clumsily braided it back—still musing about the softness, and pissed with Namir for his lie—and squeezed as much water out of the thick rope of it as I could manage.
My mood was fouled, but I tried not to let that prevent me from enjoying the space I now occupied.
I left the bathroom and closet doors open and lights on, crossing the room to turn off the one over the main area. When it was off, I gave my eyes a moment to adjust before I determined whether or not I could sleep like that.
The lights in the closet and bathroom were bright, and they illuminated the space enough that I could still see everything decently well. So, I headed toward the bed, determined to get a good night’s sleep away from Namir just to spite the bastard for lying to me.
I slipped into the bed and closed my eyes, marveling silently about the thick cushion beneath my back. It was just firm enough and just soft enough to hold me in place while still conforming to my shape. The feel of it was incredible, especially when paired with the thick, soft blankets cuddling me from above.
Sleep whisked me away quickly, and for the first time in my life, I dreamed.
A noisein the hallway dragged me from the strange dream I’d been living in, filled with black dresses and gold jewelry. The silk had been so soft that I’d nearly been able to feel it against my skin, despite knowing it wasn’t real.
The whole thing was disorienting, but strangely pleasurable too.
I heard a muffled voice outside. It was familiar, but I couldn’t make out the words or determine the gender of the person speaking.
A soft chuckle that I most definitely did recognize sent bumps over my skin—and fury coursing through me.
Namir was outside, laughing with someone.
Namir, who had lied to me about liking the feel of my hair.
Namir, who had claimed to have saved himself for his mate—for me.
What if he was out there with a woman?
What if he was flirting with her, or attracted to her? What if she could read, and write, and function in normal society? What if she wasn’t scarred, and smiled constantly, and laughed just as frequently as he did?
My stomach was clenched so tightly I nearly couldn’t breathe.
I threw my legs out of the bed, nearly falling over before I righted myself and stalked across the room. Flinging the door open, I prepared myself for a verbal sparring—and found myself face-to-face with Jesh, of all people.
Namir was sitting on his ass on the floor, his back resting where the closed door had been a moment before.
Most of my anger vanished.
