“Am I not your goddess?”Why don’t you propose marriage while you’re at it? Maybe offer to bear his children?
Amusement glimmers in his eyes. “To be fair, I’ve never seen a goddess with such an affinity for mud. But you do wear it with a certain charm.”
Heat flares across my cheeks as I look away and pretend to take great interest in the torch.
“Take your time,” he says, drawing my attention back to him. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”
As he moves toward the tent flap, I catch a whiff of his scent—leather, applewood, and cypress.
The tent flap falls shut behind him, leaving me alone.
I exhale, then peel off my sodden clothes, letting them fallto the ground with a wet plop. When I’m completely nude and shivering, I grab the bottle of herbs, uncorking it. The soothing scent of lavender and lemon balm wafts out.
Does Cenric know these are my favorite scents to bathe with?
I start with my face, gently scrubbing away the mud that’s caked around my eyes and mouth. Then, I use circular motions to loosen the dried mud on the rest of my body. It flakes off in satisfying chunks, revealing my freckled skin underneath. I pay extra attention to the spaces between my fingers and under my nails, where stubborn bits of dirt have lodged themselves.
My hair is much harder to tackle. It takes a lot of determined scrubbing to fully work the herbs through my thick strands.
After an eternity of washing, rinsing, and repeating, the water running off my hair finally comes away clear. My arms ache from the effort as I squeeze the last bit of water from the sodden strands. But it’s worth it. The grime and mud are gone, leaving my hair clean and fragrant.
As I dry off and slip into the clothes Cenric gave me—which hang off me like a child playing dress-up—I marvel at his thoughtfulness. It’s moments like these that make my stupid heart flutter.
The sunlight shimmers through the distant trees as I emerge from the tent and find Cenric waiting nearby. As our eyes meet, he straightens, and my heart pounds even harder. Truly, any harder and it will beat right out of my chest.
I try to think of something witty, something that will makehim laugh. Instead, I blurt out. “I don’t usually bathe in mud puddles.”
“I know.” He steps closer to me. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
He leads me across the sprawling camp, past soldiers sharpening weapons and repairing armor.
I want nothing more than to reach out and touch Cenric, to run my fingers through his black hair and trace the thin scar cutting through his left eyebrow—the one I accidentally gave him seven summers ago.
As we draw closer to the center of the camp, the aroma of something savory wafts through the air, making my stomach growl embarrassingly loud. Cenric either doesn’t notice or is too polite to mention it.
He stops near an iron pot hanging over an open fire. Grabbing a wooden bowl, he ladles out a generous portion of what looks to be the most appetizing soup I’ve ever seen. Wisps of steam rise from the surface, carrying hints of herbs, root vegetables, and exotic spices that make my mouth water.
“Here,” he says, handing me the bowl. Our fingers brush, and I nearly drop the whole thing.
I settle onto a log near the fire, cradling the warm bowl in my hands, while Cenric takes a seat directly across from me.
“Careful,” he warns as I lift the spoon to my mouth. “It’s hot.”
“Truly? I thought camp food was served ice cold. How silly of me.”
A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and I feel a sense of pride at having caused it. I blow on the spoonfulof soup before taking a tentative sip. Flavors explode across my tongue—rich broth, tender vegetables, and perfectly seasoned meat. It’s easily the best thing I’ve eaten in days.
“This is amazing,” I say, barely resisting the urge to gulp it down like some starving animal.
As I savor another spoonful of the delicious soup, Cenric watches me, his eyes studying my every move. It’s unnerving yet thrilling at the same time.
“So,” he begins, his deep voice cutting through the crackling of the fire, “what happened last night?”
I nearly choke on my soup.
Of course he’d ask about that. I should’ve known.
