His words reverberate through your body.
You’re still sitting, fully clothed, in the steaming bath he dunked you in. His face is close to yours, so close you could kiss him.
You push away the wayward thought. Ridiculous.
And you don’t understand how you cannot seem to calm your wildly beating heart.
“You missed,” he says in low rasp. And then he places the soap you threw at him on the stool beside you.
Heat churns through your belly, and its warm tendrils lick up your neck and face.
You raise your chin, incredibly annoyed and entirely confused by him. Elvish fiend.
“I rarely miss, Commander.” You seethe up at him.
He leans down, even closer still. You hold your breath.
“I know,” his dark, velvety voice rasps.
He watches you for a moment, sitting here in the warm bath. “I will be outside the door,” he says. “There is a…gown for you there.”
You exhale harshly and scan the gown hanging over the partition. “I am not wearing that hideous thing,” you cry out, sulking as he retreats.
You will not part with your leather soldier’s uniform. That, along with your blade. He’s hiding it from you somewhere.
You have not lost hope yet. You will get it back.
It is all you have left of your home, the Great City.
He says nothing and leaves you alone to bathe in private.
When you are certain he’s gone. You strip your wet clothes.
You sink into the bath and never realized how wonderful it is to bathe in such delightful warmth.
You never have. Back home, it’s all ice-cold baths. You have to admit that you are not used to this luxury.
Do all Sherindens live like this? You push that away and finish your bath because you’re afraid to think more about it.
When you finish, you change into the long emerald green gown the Commander left for you. It’s fit for traveling.
You realize it’s not as hideous as you first thought. But best of all, it’s dry and warm and quite comfortable.
You comb and smooth out your hair, braiding it.
As you gaze at yourself in the mirror, you smooth your hand over the soft gown. There is silver thread embroidered intricately on the bodice in fancy swirls and designs. You realize you’re not accustomed to wearing such things.
And suddenly, you’re overcome with an emotion but can’t place it. You have a vision.
Gentle hands that are not yours are behind you, combing your hair while you touch the pure velvet dress you have on.
It feels so real that you turn to see who it is. And then the vision is instantly gone as morning fog burns in the sun.
You shake your head at that nonsense. It must be this new environment that you’re not familiar with.
Yes, that must be it.
You lay all your wet clothes to dry out in a patch of sunlight streaming into the room.
The Commander comes back with four of his men in tow.
And you do not miss the fleeting look he gives you when he sees you wearing the gown.
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