“Oh—these runes on the side of the tub. I think they’re in the Old Tongue. The first one says, Be ye Clean and the second says, Be ye Refreshed.” I frown at the third rune, which doesn’t look familiar. “Um…and I think this last one says, Be ye…Pleasured?” I shake my head. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes sense to me,” Valen rumbles, giving me a look that makes me blush. “But look…” He points at the tub and I look more closely… and gasp in surprise.
The runes are glowing—it’s as though an invisible flame is tracing them and causing them to be outlined in golden light.
“What the fuck?” Valen mutters, stalking over to examine them more closely. But when he touches the side of the tub, nothing happens. He studies them a moment later, then shrugs. “Huh—they’re not even hot.”
“Maybe the tub has some kind of extra special cleaning magic,” I suggest. “It would be nice to feel completely clean,” I add, rather wistfully. I know I had a bath in the witch’s cottage, but who knows what I actually bathed in? Also, spending the night in a cave and then tramping down a dusty path through the forest isn’t exactly conducive to good hygiene.
Valen raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Thinking of taking a bath, are you, Princess?” he purrs. “Would you like me to help you with that? Scrub your back, maybe?”
“Certainly not,” I say primly, ignoring the way his words make my pulse quicken. We went too far last night—I know that now. I need to pull back before something bad happens.
“What am I supposed to do then?” he asks, frowning. “Just sit on the bed and watch?”
“No, I don’t want you watching me naked!” I protest. “You can go find out more about the stronghold. And if anyone catches you, say you were looking for some soap for me or something like that.”
“It looks like they have soap for you right there.” He points to a carved wooden ledge by the tub where several delicate crystal bottles hold various colorful liquids.
“Say I want a special kind of soap—sheep’s milk soap—because it’s good for my skin,” I say quickly. I absolutely cannot let him see me all the way naked. It’s too risky—especially after the things we did together in the cave.
“Is it?” he asks, frowning. “Good for your skin, I mean?”
“It has lanolin in it,” I say. “So yes, it can be—unless your skin is oily. In which case you ought to use?—”
“Never mind,” he says quickly, raising a hand to stop me. “I didn’t ask for a whole fucking lecture on skin care. I’ll go exploring for a while. Just don’t take too long—I’d like to bathe before dinner too.”
“I just need a quick bath and to wash my hair. I won’t take too long,” I promise.
“Good.” He nods and heads for the door. “Be careful in here alone, sweetheart. This place is stiff with magic—I can feel it all around us. And I’m not sure all of it’s benign.”
His words send a shiver of apprehension down my spine—mainly because I feel it too and I agree with him.
“I’ll stay right here,” I promise him. “Just going to take a bath and wash my hair.”
“All right—I’ll see you in a bit.”
He nods once more and leaves, being sure to shut the bark door behind him.
I stand alone in the living bower, surrounded by softly glowing blossoms and the slow, steady breath of the tree around me. The air is warm and damp, heavy with the scent of flowers—jasmine, honeysuckle, and something darker and earthier beneath it all. The golden light makes everything feel unreal, as though I’ve stepped into a dream.
Just a bath, I tell myself firmly. That’s all. A bath and clean hair and then I’ll get dressed. I wonder what’s in the wardrobe?
I’m tempted to look, but I’m too eager to get off the dirty ragged dress the witch gave me and the tub is calling me.
I step closer to it and see that it’s already filled with hot water—further evidence of the magic all around this place. It’s almost like it anticipated my desire to wash.
Well, I’m not complaining about that.
The leaves lining the carved wooden tub are broad and waxy—a deep emerald green veined with silver. Tiny white flowers bloom along the curling vines woven between them, each petal faintly luminous. When I brush my fingers over one, it quivers slightly beneath my touch. Then it turns toward me, almost as though it’s asking what I want.
I pull my hand back, frowning.
“That’s strange,” I murmur to myself.
Still, I can’t deny how inviting the tub looks. The water within it is perfectly clear and steaming gently, sending up tendrils of fragrant mist. I dip my fingers in and gasp softly—the warmth sinks instantly into my skin, neither too hot nor too cool—as though the bath knows exactly what I want.
