Zakariya set her wineglass down and stood. She came around the low table, and Vanya stood to receive the hug she offered. The comfort in the wake of near-certain death made him hold her tighter than he normally would.
“We celebrate your return tonight with a feast. Your betrothed and her House will join us, as will the warden. For now, go rest,” she murmured.
Vanya pressed a gentle kiss to his mother’s temple and took his leave, ever the diligent son.
Ten
SOREN
Soren had been in his share of bathhouses over the last couple of years when traveling through Solaria. Some of them had consisted of nothing more than a tiled room with a single tub, while others found in public squares were capable of tending to dozens of people at a time. He had never been lucky enough to visit one whose sole purpose was built for luxury until now.
The bathhouse the servant led him to was connected to the main building by a pathway covered by a pergola draped in enough vines to provide some amount of shade. The outside of the bathhouse was built with cream-colored stone, and a golden domed roof had round, stained glass windows embedded in it. The entrance was doorless and braced on either side by two pillars holding up a multifoil arch.
Inside, the bathhouse was exquisitely decorated, with pale sandstone tiles underfoot and gleaming white-and-gold tiles covering every inch of the walls and bathing pools. Lounging benches for drying off and socializing circled the edge of the space against the walls, separated by expertly carved stone tables.
In the center were two bathing pools filled with water, with large and small grooves carved into the floor around the pools. Steam rose from one of the pools, and the thought of soaking the stiffness out of his muscles in hot water had Soren hurriedly stripping out of his clothes and weapons in the antechamber. He deposited everything on one of the free-floating storage shelves connected to the wall.
“Leave my things alone,” Soren told the attendant on duty.
He wasn’t sure she understood him, despite the trade tongue he used, but his gear could be dangerous to those who weren’t wardens. Normally, he carried nothing of it with him to a bathhouse, but he doubted it would be stolen here by those serving the House of Sa’Liandel.
Soren entered the bathing room, quietly pleased to find it all to himself. He climbed into the smaller hot water pool, ignoring the attendant who came in carrying a silver tray filled with jars of oil, small blocks of soap, and various bathing tools. She set it on the tiled floor near the edge of the pool before leaving.
The water was hot enough to make him hiss, but Soren dunked himself all the way under anyway. The heat seeped past his skin down to his bones, easing the ache of the long ride and the fights and the work he’d put into keeping Vanya safe off the main road.
Soren let himself sit there for a long moment, eyes closed and head resting on the dip in the edge of the pool for such purpose. He roused after a while, loose-limbed in a way he rarely got, and reached for the soap tray. He scrubbed himself clean with a bar of pale blue soap that smelled of the ocean, getting rid of the grime of travel.
Getting clean on the road was a haphazard affair. One got used to the grit of dirt and dried sweat that water from streams couldn’t completely wash away. Soren was glad for the respite here and wondered how long he could stay before someone summoned him. In the end, a summons never arrived, but Vanya did.
Soren was still relaxing in the hot pool when he heard footsteps on the tile. He cracked open one eye before blinking both open at the sight of the Imperial crown prince walking into the bathhouse, wearing no clothes or robe, all the bruises he’d carried on him from before gone from his dark skin.
A servant trailed in his wake, carrying a tray laden down with food and a pitcher of what looked like the cold red wine favored by Solarians year-round. The servant set the tray near the edge of the cool water pool before bowing in Vanya’s direction and exiting the bathhouse.
“I can tell by your face you’ve been in there awhile,” Vanya noted in amusement.
Soren lifted a hand from the water and pressed the back of it to his cheek, feeling the heat in his skin. “Yeah.”
He let his gaze drift from Vanya’s face to his well-muscled chest, lower still before he remembered where he was and who this was. Soren blinked hard and refocused his eyes on Vanya’s face, noting the half-lidded, assessing gaze offered him.
Vanya smirked. “Join me in the other pool.”
It was less a question and more a demand as the prince stepped into the larger, cooler pool of water. Soren absently noted that he moved better now, that Vanya no longer held himself with a stiffness attributed to sore muscles and bruised bone.
Soren rubbed at his nose and stayed where he was for the time being, watching from a distance as Vanya washed himself clean in the other pool. Only when the prince gave him a pointed look did Soren finally drag himself out of one pool and make his way to the other. The shock of the cooler water made him shiver, and he quickly went neck-deep to acclimate.
Vanya watched him from where he stood in the middle, the water level up to his hips, clear enough it hid nothing, all the grime from being on the road washed away now. Nudity was an accepted social aspect in Solarian bathhouses, and Soren normally didn’t mind, but Vanya’s attention made his skin prickle in a way that made him wish for privacy.
It had been months since he’d last shared a bed with anyone. The last time had been during winter on the island with a fellow warden. Soren hadn’t been blind to Vanya’s attention over the last few days, but he had rather thought it might have come from hitting his head too hard during the train wreck. Clearly, even after being healed, that wasn’t the case.
“The feast I promised you will happen tonight, but I had the servants make up a platter for you. Eat something,” Vanya said.
Soren closed his eyes and tipped his head against the edge of the pool. “In a moment.”
He could hear the faint splash of water as Vanya moved through the pool. Soren thought nothing of it until something touched his lips and the smell of fruit filled his nose. He opened his eyes, finding Vanya seated beside him on the pool bench, a berry held to his mouth with steady fingers.
Vanya arched an eyebrow. “Eat.”
“I can feed myself,” Soren said, lips catching on the fruit.
