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“By the time you’re done, the bath will be cool enough to use.”
Peregrine blinked. “Has it already arrived?”
Sebastian gestured into the darkness in the direction of the door. “Yes.”
“I see. Why didn’t you wake me? I could have seen to it that it was drawn and—”
“No.”
Sebastian did not elaborate, and Peregrine knew better than to question a dragon, so he bowed his head and stepped aside to do as he’d been instructed. Once he’d finished and done away with his mess, he returned the chamber pot to its place beneath the bed and ventured into the darkness to find the basin. Sebastian followed, carrying the candle to light his way.
Sure enough, by the door was a wooden basin inlaid with several fresh linen sheets meant to prevent splinters. Steam rose from within. The innkeeper’s wife must have filled it with pots of boiling water. Peregrine could think of no other way the bath could stay so hot for so long.
He tested the water with a finger and found it tolerable, so in he stepped. The basin wasn’t terribly large, but it would fit him provided he tented his legs. There would be no room for Sebastian, though, a conclusion Sebastian seemed to come to as he stepped to the edge of the tub and watched Peregrine fold delicately into it.
“It’s small,” Sebastian said in a tone so sinister and serious, a smile wobbled into being on Peregrine’s face.
“Yes, my lord. Did you not see it when it was brought in?”
“No.” Sebastian paused, then added, “My eyes were interested in other things.”
It was unclear what those other things were, but Peregrine thought he might know, and the notion made him blush.
“It is of no matter.” Sebastian set the candle down nearby and crouched by the tub. He fished a folded linen rag and a glass bottle from somewhere on the floor, then wetted the rag in the bathwater before applying whatever it was that was inside the bottle. “It will do all the same.”
Peregrine watched, chin on his knees, as Sebastian rolled up the sleeves of his doublet then reached into the basin. He took one of Peregrine’s ankles in hand, then lifted his leg out of the water and ran the washcloth over his feet, paying great attention to the gaps between his toes and all the little places oft overlooked. The smell of something floral and sweet perfumed the air as he worked.
For all Peregrine’s training, he hadn’t a clue what to say. Dragons were not supposed to act like this.
“It’s too dark,” Sebastian grumbled after a time. Upon issuing the statement, he dropped the washcloth on Peregrine’s leg and swatted his hand through the air as if chasing away a fly. Quite suddenly, fire burst into existence in the air above them—dozens of flickering flames no bigger than the one burning down the nearby candle’s wick. They hung unevenly in the air like living jewels and cast reflections of themselves upon the surface of the water. Peregrine stared at them, awestruck. So this was dragon magic? He’d heard whispers that dragons were capable of wonders the likes of which no mortal man could ever duplicate, but to see it in person was something else entirely.
He sat in silence, too stunned to react, as Sebastian grabbed the washcloth and resumed diligently washing his leg. How was it the fire wasn’t tumbling down to burn them? Sebastian had to be extraordinarily powerful, even more so than Peregrine had originally believed. A creature who could control fire to such an extent was a dangerous creature indeed.
With a grunt, Sebastian tucked Peregrine’s leg back into the basin and pulled out the other. He cleaned it and returned it, too, then plunged his arm into the water to run the washcloth between Peregrine’s thighs. Peregrine noticed, but only peripherally. His attention was held rapt by the flames flickering overhead.
“The fire,” Peregrine managed in a small voice as Sebastian worked the washcloth over the more intimate parts of his anatomy. “If one were to touch it, would it burn?”
“Yes.”
“And if you were to touch it?”
“No. Only if I were to let it.”
How fascinating. Peregrine grinned. “So you control it, then? Every aspect of it? Whether it burns or not, and where it appears?”
“Yes.”
“And you can summon it at will?”
Rather than respond, Sebastian held his unoccupied palm over the surface of the water, which promptly caught fire. Peregrine gasped and scrambled back, tripping over the linen beneath his feet in an attempt to escape the flames surrounding him. With a loud splash and an ungraceful flailing of his arms, he tumbled straight through the flame, which yielded to his body and didn’t so much as singe the fair hair on his arms.
“It yields to me,” Sebastian stated as Peregrine struggled to catch his breath while fire harmlessly licked up his arms and swirled around his legs. “One day, you will yield to me, too, omega.”
“I do yield to you, my lord.”
Sebastian shook his head. “You do not yield to me any more than the water in this basin, meekly pushed aside when introduced to any kind of resistance. No. One day, you will yield to me like the fire does—shaped by my hand, but still vibrant and alive. It burns of its own volition, Peregrine. I may control its size and shape, but not even the mightiest dragon can control the way it flickers. I want you to yield to me like it does. Do you understand?”
Peregrine wasn’t sure that he did, but he bowed his head regardless. One day he thought he might, and for now, that seemed like enough.
