Flyka removed her white vambraces and set them on the table, followed by her white pauldrons and chest plate. She rolled up the sleeves of her bloody linen tunic. Dahlia eyed the bath and the Haunt. Was this a trick to get her in the bath to drown her? Would anyone really care if Lia died ofnaturalcauses?
Drowning is not natural.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought it was obvious,” Flyka replied, “I’m helping you bathe.”
Lia blinked slowly. “I'm perfectly capable of bathing myself.”
Flyka snorted, giving Dahlia a pointed look. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have. I can see your thoughts flickering across your face. I’m not going to drown you.”This time.“But unfortunately, we are surrounded by manyvallos,and without thereillovhere, it’s improper for you to bathe without a helper and some protection.”
“So, you’re here to protect me?”
“I’m here to protect Neve’s honor and reputation.”
That made sense, but... “How is this any different than when we traveled through Loriia together?” Even thinking about that trip felt like a lifetime ago.
Flyka held her gaze. “You were not queen then.”
“Is that what I am?”
The Haunt sighed. “I’m not sure what you are,saloes, but unfortunately for thereillov, you are married to the frost giant king. Now get in theqovvingbath.”
Lia weighed the risks and settled on taking the bath. If Flyka wanted to drown her, she could simply overpower Dahlia and drag her to the basin and do it. This elaborate ruse wasn’t necessary. Plus, she was still cold. She hadn’t truly been warm except when she was wrapped in Ne—She cut off the thought.
You can’t afford to get distracted.
Dahlia shrugged off her velvet dress until it pooled at her feet. She stared down at the smatter of silver blood, suppressing a shudder.
Flyka plucked an apple from Lia’s plate and crunched into it, eating the core and all. Wasn’t it bitter and hard? The Loriians were always surprising her.
The Haunt grimaced at the sight of the corset. “You’re back to wearing one of those torture contraptions?”
Lia tugged at the laces at the back of her corset, loosening the garment so she could unclip the front. “I found it useful in hiding my bust. The flatter I was on top, the more I passed for a halfling.” She tossed it on top of her dress, shivering in just her torn chemise. A moment of self-consciousness seized her as the Haunt took in her legs. Dahlia forced herself not to shrink in on herself. It was just skin. She was not cursed or less of a person because of the marks she’d been born with. She arched a brow at the pale giantess.
“Does it hurt?” Flyka asked.
“No. I was born this way,” she replied, tiptoeing to the tub. She pursed her lips when the Haunt dipped two fingers into the tub and then nodded. Why was she testing the water? Odd.
Lia stripped off her chemise and shivered before grabbing onto the tall bath and swinging her leg over the rim. Her toesburned, but the heat was manageable. She sank low into the water, her hair floating on the surface. Her whole body ached, each scratch, cut, and bruise, but her tight muscles slowly released as the warm water caressed each ache and pain. The bite on her neck ached.
She craned her neck back to watch as Flyka rifled through Lia’s dress. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t have anything on your person that could kill my king.”
Lia shrugged. “Okay.”
Flyka blinked at her and then dropped the torn dress. She dug in her pocket and produced a small vial of peach oil. The Haunt unstopped it and held it over the water, but Lia grabbed her wrist. The giantess paused, arching a brow in question.
“What is it?” Dahlia asked.
Flyka sighed in annoyance. “Oils to help heal your wounds.” A snicker. “Not everyone carries poison on their person.”
A dig that hit close to home.
Dahlia released her wrist, and the giantess poured the perfumed oil into the tub. It spread across the surface, changing colors in the light. Swiping her hand through the oil, she inhaled the spice of ginger and cloves and the bitterness of rosemary. It was a luxury she had not had in months. While Lo was anonnae, they didn’t have the time to create little luxuries such as scented oil for bathing. Everything was brewed to sell. They had to be practical.
The Haunt produced a pretty bar of soap from her other pocket that smelled clean and was flecked with brown. She dropped it into Lia’s palm and then produced a pitcher from the floor. She scooped up water and then unceremoniously dumped it over Dahlia’s head.
