Chapter 12

I swallowed and blew out a breath. It would be nice to be clean, and bathing with a man made in the way of Rivyn certainly would not be unpleasant, even if it were utterly scandalous to do. I was a long way from my village, however, I decided, and when travelling, propriety sometimes had to be set aside in favour of practicality.

I took off my trousers, still covered to mid-thigh by my tunic, and walked over to the tub. He closed his eyes politely as I got in, but I suspected him of peeking, so I pulled my tunic off at the last second, casting it to the side as I sunk into the water between his feet, my knees against my chest.

He opened his eyes and regarded me with amusement. “It’s going to be hard to wash your hair like that. Come here,” he reached out and dragged me towards him, so that I sat between his knees with my back to him. “Work a lather into that,” he handed me the bar of soap, and tilted my chin back before pouring a cup of water over my hair.

When my hair was wet through, he took the soap from me, and lathered my hair with it, before rinsing it off. I washed my face, neck and chest with a square of cloth the inn keeper’s wife had placed for our use. “Alright,” he took me casually by the waist and lifted me over his knees so that he could turn, presenting me with his back. I knelt in the water and washed his hair for him whilst he scrubbed himself.

His hair was as beautiful as the man, I thought, black as coal, thick and heavy. I took longer washing it then I needed to, but he did not complain. When I was done, he rose from the bath without any modesty, so I caught a flashing glimpse of skin running with water before I looked away, flushing, and flustered. He caught up one of the rolled drying cloths and wrapped it around his waist.

“Come on then, I won’t peek,” he said with laughter, holding a second out and closing his eyes again. I got out quickly, almost slipping on the wet floor, and wrapped myself in the cloth so that it covered me from shoulder to knee.

“Well, then, isn’t that better?” He asked me, cheerfully, and went to the door, leaning out to call: “Madam!”

I heard the inn keeper’s wife respond, and after a moment, she and two young girls entered with buckets. I sat on the bed and worked my fingers through my hair as they emptied the water from the tub with buckets, and then pushed it onto its side so that it could be rolled the room.

“I don’t suppose,” Rivyn held out our clothing and exchanged them for another coin. “Clean clothes,” he added, pleased, closing the door behind them.

“Excuse me,” I lifted the fairy man to the side so I could pull my spare tunic from my bag and put it on, removing the cloth once I was covered so I could use it to dry my hair.

Rivyn raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s prepared,” he observed. “I was not granted the opportunity to pack with as much foresight, unfortunately.” He sat against the bedhead, arranging the pillows behind him, and picked up the book, happy to sit around with only a cloth tied around his waist. I slid looks at him from under my eyelashes. It was the most exposed I had ever seen a man, and Rivyn was not an average man in any way.

This is what it would be like to have a husband, I thought, sitting in bed together, comfortably, with him mostly naked. Except that most husbands would not look like Rivyn, I amended. It would not be such a pleasing view to spend time with Tilef half dressed. Or spend time with Tilef at all, I amended with a sigh and hoped again that my father would not accept the man’s proposal on my behalf. I had already turned him down, but that meant little if my father accepted. These things were often worked out between men to the detriment of women, and the ways things had been in my home when I had left it, I would not be surprised if my father wanted to be done with it.

His relationship with Gretha had already survived the scandal of the baby’s birth, and exposure of their affair to my mother. The villagers might talk about him behind his back, but they would not do so to his face, and his businesses would not suffer. There were different rules for men than women. If it had been my mother who had the affair, she would be ostracised to her face and utterly.

Would I be considered ruined now? I wondered. Stolen from the road by a strange man, spending days and nights unsupervised in his company… Yes, I imagined my reputation would not survive this adventure. Tilef may not wish to marry me upon my return, and as much a relief it would be to have that out of the question, a future as a spinster with a tattered reputation was not a pleasant one, either.

“I have a comb in my bag,” Rivyn set the book aside and swung himself off the bed, to fetch it. “Perhaps you would comb out my hair once you’ve done your own?” He held it out to me and returned to his book once I accepted it. I turned it over in my hands. It was elaborately and ornately carved out of some type of smooth, cool stone. A Fae comb. I wondered what it had been like to grow up a member of their court.