Page 30 of Cursed By the Dawn

Baths weren’t necessary in the Dream Realm; there were no bodily odors here, no grime that couldn’t be willed away. Sweat, blood, and dirt held no permanence, and every morning I woke fresh, restored. But there was something undeniably soothing in the simple act of bathing. The heat, the weightlessness. The delicious feeling of resting tired limbs in a warm, soapy pool. It was one of several things I missed about the waking world.

I wondered what Erebus would think.

But he merely nodded, atypically unbothered. “I can create a bath for you. I will model it after one I recall from Citadel Firstlight.”

Sothatwas why he was so unbothered.

“No, not just for me,” I said, trying to spell it out for him.

His brow furrowed. “Then who—” He halted, his entire body growing rigid as he realized the implications of what I was saying. He blinked at me, slowly, as if his mind needed an extra second to catch up. “You want us to bathe together,” he said at last, voice cracking on the last word.

Together.

He stumbled over it as if he was imagining something indecent.

Oh.

My face burned. NowIwas imagining something indecent. I had used the wordbath, but I hadn’t really considered the logistical implications of, well, bathing. Only the comfort. The warmth. Dream or not, baths usually didn’t include much clothing.

“Is there something wrong with taking a bath together?” I asked, trying to hide my sudden realization. “Or perhaps it’s been a while since your last bathing experience. Let me guess. Five hundred years?” I teased, a playful lilt to my voice.

He propped a knuckle underneath his chin, considering. “Give or take.”

“Then your cleanliness leaves much to be desired.”

“Does it?” he implored, silver eyes narrowing. “The way you buryyour nose in my pillows and blankets every night says otherwise.” He leaned over me, caging my torso with his arms as his cape draped like a blanket across our legs. I made a surprised squeak, my spine knocking into cold stone. “Or the way you wake with your face pressed into my chest every morning.”

He was right. Ididwake up every morning pressed to him as if we were a sculpture molded from the same marble block. But I didn’t realize he’d been so attentive to that fact. I took a deep breath as his pale nose skimmed my neck. He smelled heavenly tonight. Like a windswept forest at dusk mixed with something deliciously masculine.

“Now that I think about it, you don’t seem to mind my scent at all.” I felt him inhale against my neck, dragging his nose up the column of my throat. A deep sigh rumbled from his chest as he reached my ear. As if he wassavoringit. “Nor do I mind yours. But you wish for a bath regardless.”

“I used to take baths almost every night in Norhavellis,” I reasoned, trying not to squirm. “On some nights, I’d scent it with dried flowers. Or use soap pressed with goat’s milk and honey from the village. The water was never hot enough, though.”

“No?” he asked, pulling back a bit so that he could look at me.

“Especially in winter. And the tub was never large enough, either.” I smiled, recalling those early days. I was wretched at swimming, but baths were different. I’d sink until my lips were underwater, imagining I was a mythical river nymph with moss for hair. Mother would yell at me, complaining I was taking too long. “I could never stretch my legs out like I wanted.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to do better than that.”

I gasped.

The change was seamless, almost imperceptible, until it wasn’t. One moment, I was lying on stone, and the next, the roof shimmered beneath me. The texture softened, liquefied. And then I sank—gently, soundlessly—into it. Part of the roof had become a magical pool of warm, silken water.

As if it had been waiting for us.

My legs drifted down, no longer pressed against the roof. Erebus’s body followed mine, suspended by the midnight water pooling up to our chests. It was silkier than ordinary water, as if we were swimming in mulled wine, and it was just shallow enough for me to touch the bottom, a fact that made me smile, considering how much I loathed the act of swimming itself. Our private corner of the roof had transformed into a warm, steaming pool that overlooked the entire domain and caught the sparkle of Sorren’s creation in its reflection. We were both still fully clothed, Erebus’s magic having moved around us rather than through us. My dress and cape began to float up, mingling with Erebus’s as they rippled like ink atop the surface. The water smelled divine, like roses, bergamot, strawberries, the sea, and a million other ambrosial things I was too distracted to recall.

Because I was thinking of what would benext.

A bath implied nakedness. A removal of our heavy layers and obsidian armor.

The pool was dark, though, as was the scenery surrounding us. The sky was filled with Sorren’s kaleidoscope of stars, but the roof itself—and in turn, the pool—were dimly lit. This gave me courage. Well, that and our impending battle against Raelion. The end felt so near, unavoidable and terrifying. I wasn’t sure I deserved this stolen moment, but the beautiful man in front of me—the man who was finally free—absolutely did.

Be brave, Esmer.

I dove under Erebus’s cloak, moving to the farthest side of the pool.

I willed my layers away as I swam. Boots, dress, cape, necklace, armor, feathers, ribbons, gauntlets. The water felt euphoric against my bare skin; a warm, comforting embrace against the cold wind. A gentle caress of my legs, a trickling heat on my shoulders. When I was certain all my layers were properly removed, I imagined myself into a black silk chemise, sleeveless and lined with simple lace.