Page 90 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

Audra looks back at Lawrence. “I certainly didn’t tell you to enter the kingdom via a pirate port. You brought half your troubles upon yourself.”

“No, but you did poison us and drag us aboard your boat.”

“And lucky you,” she snaps. “If I hadn’t, you’d likely be in the middle of the swamp right now, stranded with a dead propulsion apparatus. If the lack of water didn’t kill you, a bog creature would have.”

“Audra,” Lady Ellaine warns.

Lawrence gives Audra a smug look, knowing he will win any argument as long as her mother is present.

Thankfully, a maid enters the foyer to tell Lady Ellaine that rooms have been prepared, so I don’t have to listen to them any longer.

We’re all given temporary quarters in the same hall. Clover catches my eye before she slips into her room, just a brief glance that stays with me even after we’ve parted.

My room is far more than adequate, certainly fussier than I’m used to or require, with a large bed surrounded by fine mesh netting and windowed doors that open to a balcony.

I have no personal items to put away, so I leave the room and make my way down to the men’s bathhouse that Audra said is in a separate building behind the main manor.

The building is large, with a community soaking pool of cool water and several private bathing areas. Interested in nothing but washing the swamp off, I bypass the pool and step into one of the smaller rooms. Inside, there is a small changing area with a door that leads into another room, this one containing a large copper tub and a stoned-in area with a high faucet for rinsing off before and after you bathe. I study the fixture, never entirely understanding the High Vales’ need to wash three times. I turn the lever on a whim, a little startled when the water spurts out almost immediately.

Soon, steam fills the small room, and the air becomes heavy and wet.

After I strip out of my filthy clothes, I step under the hot water, almost immediately changing my mind about my universal distaste for Vallen ingenuity. The spray beats down on my weary muscles, making me feel human again.

I stand under the water longer than necessary and then wash with the soap provided. It smells like the citrus blossoms in the foyer, too fancy for my liking. Nevertheless, it feels good to be clean.

A knock at the inner door startles me as I’m stepping onto the thick, woven reed mat. I hurry to shield myself with the towel provided. “Yes?”

“Lady Ellaine has instructed me to bring a change of clothes, commander,” a man says from the other side. “I’ve left them on the bench for you.”

“That’s fine,” I say stiffly, unused to being waited on but grateful I don’t have to put my filthy clothes back on.

“Should you need anything else, please ring the bell, and I will be back shortly.”

I thank him and then finish drying off. He’s gone when I step into the changing room. I toss the towel to the side and study the clothes, unsure. The tunic is dusky blue—a color I’ve never worn in my life, and it feels like it’s made of silk.

Without a doubt, it was intended for a man above my station, but I pull it on. It’s a little tight in the shoulders, but the sleeves are long enough. The trousers fit fine, and the boots the valet brought are only slightly too snug.

Carrying the jacket and a sash I have no idea what to do with, I leave the bathhouse and return to my room. Once inside, I attempt to tie the sash at my waist, but it looks ridiculous. I take it off and try again, but with no more luck than before.

A knock distracts me from my task. When I open the door, I find Clover standing in the hall, looking self-conscious. She’s dressed in an ill-fitting, pearl-colored gown she must have received as well.

Obviously designed for a tall, slight elf, the hem pools on the floor. The dress is too loose at Clover’s waist and too tight elsewhere, drawing attention to all the wrong places. Or the right places, depending on how you look at it.

She can’t wear that in public.

My jaw slackens with surprise, and I quickly rip my gaze back to her face.

Clover rubs a frustrated hand through her just-washed, still-damp hair. “Well, that’s my answer.”

Taking her hand, I quickly tug her into the room and close the door. “What was the question?”

“If I look ridiculous.”

Now that we’re alone, I let out an incredulous snort and skim my eyes over her once more. “You don’t look ridiculous.”

“Look at the hem!”

I try not to grin. “There are better things to look at.”

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