Page 60 of Across an Endless Sea

“I said you could look,” he points out. “Not that I was clothed. There are no fluffy towels here. The fire will dry me while you take your turn. Besides, fae have no issue with nudity, do they?”

He’s taunting me, I realise, with an aggravated huff. Mocking me again.

Fine.

I’ve seen nude bodies before. I was a herbalist, for Goddess’ sake. This is nothing.

Slowly, deliberately, I turn back around, keeping my eyes fixed above his waist. He’s lying face down, this is nothing… only…

He can’t mean to lie there naked as I bathe, can he?

I shake my head and stride past him. “Privacy?” The request comes out as another quiet squeak, and I mentally curse myself a hundred different ways.

“The last time you left my sight, an assassin almost killed you.” Caed’s tone is somehow darker than it was when he thought I’d been with another male. “So, no. There will be no privacy.”

Fine.

I step into the pool fully clothed, flinching at the cold. For some reason, I expected it to be warm, but I ignore the slight pang of disappointment as I sink down to my neck and shove my head under the cascade to ensure my hair is drenched.

Whereas Caed was able to sit on the inbuilt bench and still have his head above water, I have to kneel on it. I’m pretty sure if I step off, I’ll be forced to tread water. Just how deep is this thing?

The water turns red, but quickly drains clear once more. The swirl of the water hides enough of my body that I feel comfortable stripping out of the dress and leaving it on a rock on the edge. At least with short hair, I don’t have to worry about knots and tangles as much, but it’s still a mess, so I wash it thoroughly.

I don’t dare look at Caed. If he’s watching me, I don’t want to know. The teasing is bad enough, but I can handle it. It’s just words, fuelled by a bond made of instinct, which doesn’t seem to understand just how wide the chasm between us really is.

But acting on it? That would feel too much like betrayal. Especially with Florian’s fate still unknown, and all the things he’s done to me and my people since.

I won’t cross that line with him. I’d never forgive myself if I did.

A feather-light touch at my shoulder, just above my wings, makes me jerk. The motion puts my head directly in the path of the water, and I splutter as I move as far as the bench will allow, hands coming to cover my breasts.

“Don’t,” I hiss, whirling to put my back to the wall.

I saw what Elatha did to that other fae’s beautiful wings. I saw how unaffected Caed looked when I thought his father would do the same to me. I remember the nauseating feel of spidery fingers tracing the outer membranes. Those whispered threats in my ear…

After that, I don’t want a Fomorian near mine ever again.

His eyes go soft for a second. “You’ve got blood all over your wings.”

“Don’t touch me.”

The softness disappears, replaced by wariness as he raises both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t.”

Without meaning to, my eyes rake over him. Aside from his hair, he seems to have dried off. He’s left his armbands off, and put on a low-slung pair of shorts, but the material is soft and does little to conceal the bulge beneath.

Maybe he can sense the tension in my muscles, or maybe he’s just had enough of tormenting me, because he retreats to stand by the door. I know that the distance means nothing, given how fast immortals can move when they want to, but it relaxes me just the same. Once he’s as far from me as he can possibly be, I slink back to my previous spot, reaching around awkwardly beneath the water to reach the blood he mentioned.

It might just be the most uncomfortable bath I’ve ever experienced, but it’s also the most welcome. I don’t think I’ve bathed properly since I left Danu’s Cave, and it feels like I shed a hundred layers of grime in the span of what must be almost an hour.

Caed doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t speak at all, actually. Closer examination reveals he’s not even staring at me, but at the fire.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine he’s not there.

But I have to exit the bath, eventually. I scrub at the stains on the dress, but they don’t budge, and my fingers are starting to prune.

Caed rolls his eyes, bites out a curse, and heads for the dresser.

“Use this to dry yourself with,” he orders, chucking one of his shirts at me. “I won’t look.”

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