Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
As soon as we’ve been swallowed up by the darkness on the conjured stairs, I give a private refusal a half-hearted try. “I really am feeling totally recovered now. It’d be enough just to go back and relax in Stavros’s—”
Casimir cuts me off with a short chuckle. “Oh, no. You’ve run yourself ragged. I’ve got just the cure for that.”
I am still wiped out from my magic’s punishment. A faint ache remains in my lungs, and any hunger I once felt has been burned up by my stomach’s churning.
Partly out of a lack of energy to argue and partly out of curiosity, I let Casimir guide me down the hallway in the opposite direction from the library entrance.
“We’ll take the back staircase,” he says. “It’s not likely we’ll run into anyone there.”
He ushers me up the narrow flight of stairs and a short distance down the third-floor hall that must hold the dorms for the companionship division.
His fingers skim over a few doors that are carved in a simple but elegant style with Ardone’s favorite things.
Roses sprout from leafy stems, salmon leap from rivers, and swans soar on lakes.
The godlen of love and beauty would feel right at home.
Something about the doors must tell Casimir which he can use. He presses his fingers against the fourth in a swift pattern, and it swings open to admit us.
The room he leads me into is definitely not a dorm, though it’s nearly as large as the common room in Julita’s. Pale marble tiles line the floor and walls, gleaming under the bright glow of the crystalline light fixtures overhead.
On the far wall, someone’s painted the tiles with a mural of the All-Giver’s raising of the godlen. Taking the idea that the Great God “lay with” earth, sea, and sky in a much more literal fashion than I’ve generally seen it portrayed.
With a flush of my cheeks, I jerk my gaze to take in the rest of our surroundings. Shelves built into the walls hold towels, sponges, and an assortment of bottles and jars. A sweet floral scent laces the air.
And in the middle of the room, next to a thick white rug, stands a claw-foot bathtub.
Gold-plated pipes rise from the floor to the faucet at one curved end of the tub. Casimir walks straight over with his usual assured grace and starts the water running.
As steam wafts from the warbling current, the courtesan turns to the shelves. He opens a jar full of glinting pink crystals and sprinkles a handful under the running water. Bubbles foam in their wake.
A crisper scent reaches my nose that somehow seeps into my muscles to release some of the tension wound up there. But even as my shoulders start to relax from their defensive pose, my stomach knots tighter. “You’re running me a bath?”
“I can’t think of anything better for soothing the nerves and escaping the day’s stresses.” Casimir flashes me a smile and ambles over to join me.
Stepping behind me, he brushes his fingertips along the collar of my gown. But the flare of heat isn’t enough to stop me from stiffening when he reaches for the lacing at the back.
“Casimir, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I’m the expert. You don’t trust my judgment?”
I don’t trust his reaction if he sees all of my body exactly as it is. I can’t keep my undershirt on in the bath.
No doubt he’s seen dozens of nude women before. My gawky body wouldn’t be a particular thrill.
But it does have one unexpected feature—or lack thereof.
“Maybe a bath would be nice,” I hedge. “But I generally prefer them to be private. You’ve set everything up perfectly. Am I not allowed to use this room alone?”
Casimir pauses with his hands halfway down my back. The loosened dress slips over the peaks of my shoulders, and I fold my arms across the bodice to ensure it doesn’t drop.
“You could have it to yourself,” he says. “But that will make pampering you much more difficult. I’d also like to check that you haven’t taken any wounds you’re trying to hide, seeing as you’re so adamant about not letting an actual medic look you over.”
So, he does have a bit of an ulterior motive here. I can’t even be annoyed at him for it, because it’s out of concern.
“I’m not hiding any wounds,” I insist.
Of its own accord, my hand clenches against my sternum. Against the spot just below the modest swell of my breasts where I should be branded.
“Ah.” Casimir raises his hands to rest them gingerly on my shoulders, his thumbs stroking soothing lines over my bared skin. “It’s all right, Kindness. You don’t have to hide that. I already know.”
My heart just about bursts straight through my ribs. Despite my best efforts to keep it steady, my voice wavers. “You know what?”
His voice stays gentle, wrapping around me like another layer of silk.
“I don’t imagine the others would have guessed.
I’m trained to pick up on body language, to evaluate people’s reactions…
And before I started official classes at the college, one of the boys I was tutored with was godless. Some quirks are familiar.”
What? Julita bursts out.
My legs wobble under me, rocked by a surge of emotion. Shock that the courtesan actually does know, immense relief that he doesn’t know everything.
I can’t see much point in trying to deny the truth now, to him or my ghostly passenger.
I take in a gulp of air and let out a shaky laugh. “Not much gets by you, huh? What ‘quirks’ am I giving myself away with?”
“Like I said, I doubt anyone else would realize.” Casimir keeps up his slow massage of my shoulders, but his voice has lightened as if he’s relieved too. Maybe he was worried about how I’d respond?
“It took me a while myself,” he continues.
“But I’ve never seen you make the gesture of the divinities, even when you’re under threat.
When you’re tense, you sometimes shield that spot like you did just now, as if you’re covering it from view.
You kept your gaze averted from the Temple of the Crown when you rode by on our return from the orphanage. ”
I test my teeth against my lower lip but catch myself before I really start worrying at it. I can seem a little discomforted, but I don’t want him wondering why I’m still agitated after he’s shown he won’t judge me.
Especially not after he’s proven what a keen observer he really is.
I feel the need to give an explanation. I can offer a somewhat honest one. “I was on my own for a lot of my childhood. It felt wrong to dedicate myself to any of the divinities who didn’t appear to give a shit about what happened to me up until then. I never wanted a gift.”
Least of all the one I ended up with through no choice of my own.
“I’m sorry I lied to you about that,” I add. “People see my finger and just assume it was a sacrifice, and it’s easier to agree…”
“I understand.” Casimir gives my shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
“My friend had similar reasons. Choosing godlessness shouldn’t be that offensive.
Our lives are still our own—the All-Giver never denied that even while watching over us.
You clearly haven’t done anything terrible enough for the gods to strike you down. ”
He chuckles as if the idea is totally absurd, and I make myself laugh along.
He has no idea. I’m just lucky the godlen don’t keep too close an eye on the millions of mortals under their purview.
“There are a lot of other people who don’t see it that way.” I don’t want him bringing it up with the other men.
“Within these walls in particular,” Casimir says in acknowledgment. “I haven’t mentioned the suspicion to anyone else, and I won’t. I wouldn’t have mentioned it to you if it hadn’t seemed to be holding you back.”
Holding me back from the bath, which is now nearly full of water and foamy bubbles.
Casimir leaves me so he can shut off the water. I drink in the haze of steam in the air.
The knot in my stomach lingers.
Do I even deserve the compassion this incredible man is offering me? I’m still lying to him.
But if my magic keeps tearing away at me, how much longer do I even have?
I’m never going to get my daydream from my times in Ewalin’s oak tree, of family and belonging and laughter. Is it really unfair to accept just a sliver of that kind of amity?
Great God help me, I would like to be pampered, just once. When am I ever going to get an offer like this again?
I grapple with the pang of longing inside me for a few moments longer and then meet Casimir’s gaze. “Just a bath.”
His eyes twinkle with his smile. “If that’s all you’d like.”
The thought of all the other things he might do for other women—and men—he could have brought into this room brings back my hesitation.
“You know I wouldn’t— I’d never expect this from you because of the work you do.
I wouldn’t hire you, if I could even afford to.
I mean, not because you’re not very appealing and everything.
Er. It just isn’t the sort of thing… the sort of thing I’d feel okay about doing. ”
I’m not sure if I’ve made a whole lot of sense in my babbling, but Casimir’s smile stays in place as he returns to me.
“You don’t have to worry. I don’t see it that way.
Think of it as—if you were friends with a baker, they might bake you a cake to cheer you up after a hard day.
You’re friends with me, so you get a bath. ”
I consider the bubbles. “It does look like a very nice bath.”
“I take pride in my work, even more so when it isn’t really work at all.” Casimir pauses, and his eyes soften. “I’ll take your word for it that there are no wounds unaccounted for. Let me know when you’re ready for the rest of your pampering.”
He turns his back to me to start looking through the paraphernalia on the shelves as if that’s exactly what he always intended to be doing. Letting me finish undressing without any spectators.
The unstated understanding in the gesture melts the last of my hesitation.
My broken soul might rip me right in two by this time tomorrow. What have I got to lose?