Page 6 of Awariye

I considered what I could possibly handle. "A bath—I slept in a stable last night so I didn't spend the rest of my money before the relay horse north."

My friend chuckled indulgently. "A bath, and then rest."

With Wren's help I made it to a room adjoining the kitchens where Sigrid heated water over a wood stove. She set up a bath for me and added some rosemary for good measure. Wren helped me to strip and scrub myself down first with a sponge and soap in a bucket, then gave me a quick rinse so my dirt and grit wouldn't immediately spoil the bath.

"I'll go find you a bed to sleep in tonight," said Wren with a pat on my shoulder as I settled into the deliciously comfortable tub, content to process Wren’s heavy truth later when I could think more clearly.

"Igor has the guest bedroom, Wren," said Sigrid.

"Yes, madam?" A man charged into the bathing room, one of the warriors I'd noticed at the dinner table earlier, eating next to Sören and his kids. He had medium brown hair shorn short, a strong jawline, and powerful physique, but what I immediately noticed was the bandage around one shoulder. He swept the room with soft blue-gray eyes that landed on me and then widened.

"Entschuldigung," he squawked as an apology and took a step back out the door.

"Kein Problem," I reassured him, giving probably a dopey smile at such a handsome man. The tub was high enough to conceal me, and growing up as a theatrical performer, I'd learned to not be bashful about nudity anyway.

"Igor, this is Awariye," Wren said, waving him back into the room but quickly getting to the point. "He needs a bed for the night, but Sigrid says you're in the guest room?"

"I can move back to the lodging house," Igor replied, his voice calm and steady.

Before I could protest ousting him, Sigrid spoke up. "Not while the doctor is tending your shoulder, young man. It's easier to have you in the castle than trying to hunt you down at the lodge."

"Awariye can sleep in the bed with us, then," said Wren.

I leveled tired eyes on my friend. "Who's us?"

Wren blushed. "I mean with me and Uli."

Sören passed by in the hallway and quipped, "Uli, Wren is leaving you for the bard."

"What?" Ulbrecht yipped from further down the hallway.

"I can sleep on the floor," I said just as Igor said the same thing.

"Sören, don't make things hard for me!" Wren exclaimed with humor, not realizing how much this stressful conversation was ruining what could have been a relaxing bath.

"You'll not sleep on the floor with an injured shoulder, Igor," said Sigrid, her tone brooking no argument. "You and the bard will share the guest room. The king will have Wren in his bed, and if Wren is happy, then everyone is happy."

I didn't think my friend was quite expecting the strict old woman to say something so affectionate. Struck silent for a moment, he eventually stammered his thanks. As Wren fumbled through his words I glanced over to Igor.

From the surprised then bashful look in the man's eyes, I surmised his meaning: there was only one bed.

We could be gentlemen and share.

"It's fine, Wren," I pleaded with him. "I don't mind sharing the guest room with Igor. I'll be okay, and I’ll see you in the morning."

Wren blushed and tried to stall, but the king was already in the doorway with love in his eyes, and once my friend noticed, he gave in.

Blessed silence stretched through the room for a long moment.

"Igor, you'll stay and see our new guest to your room?" Sigrid prompted.

"Yes, madam," Igor replied immediately.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mind and cupped his words in my palm, searching in my memory for the home of that accent. "Vorarlberg?"

His eyes flew wide. He nodded. "Ja genau, I'm from the valley west of there."

"Hmm." I fidgeted in the soothing bath, my body and brain wrung out from exhaustion, but I knew I could find a song from the area and offer it as an olive branch to someone generously sharing his room.

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