Chapter 2 #2
Aeryn searched his expression for something—gentleness, mockery, anything—but found only patience. She swallowed. “And if I refuse?”
His eyes widened before narrowing. “Then, ye dinnae understand what ye’ve agreed to.
” Khaeric stepped closer. “This isnae about what’s owed.
” He was close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
“It’s about what’s shared. First breath, first fire, first water. That’s how we begin.”
Aeryn shook her head, eyes wide. “We don’t even know each other.” Part of her knew it wouldn’t matter.
She had imagined many horrors on her journey to the mountain, but somehow this simple expectation, bathing together, struck her as more intimate than anything she’d prepared for. The idea of disrobing before this stranger, this husband she’d only just met, sent heat rushing to her face.
“That’s the point.” He tilted his head to the side, his voice soft. “We begin as strangers. The knowin’ comes after.”
No threat. No demand. Just certainty, as natural as breathing. The air felt suddenly too warm—too heavy.Aeryn didn’t know whether she wanted to shrink away from him or approach, just to understand what he meant.
He let the silence stretch between them as he removed his shirt, revealing the mottled gray skin of his chest. The light caught along the ridges of old scars tracing his shoulders.
Her throat tightened, and she averted her eyes. Aeryn had seen men before, guards during training, but never like this.
Khaeric turned and reached for the jacket still draped over her shoulders. The heavy leather slid down her frame, snagging at her elbows before he eased it away.
“Turn ‘round.”
Her legs moved before her mind could protest. Aeryn faced away from him, her spine rigid as he found the first clasp of her gown. The fabric shifted against her skin as he worked, sending a spike of panic through her chest.
“I can do it…” she said, barely louder than the hiss of the water.
His hands stilled. “Aye.” His breath was hot against her neck. “But if I left ye to it, ye’d no’ do it at all.”
No argument came to mind. If left alone, Aeryn wouldn’t. The final clasps yielded, and the black silk loosened around her shoulders, clinging to her frame. The gown fell from her grasp.
“Orcs are spoken of only in whispers. They said to expect… savagery.” Her voice was steadier than her nerves.
“Aye. They would.” He brushed the curve of her shoulder. “But there’s no savagery in water, princess.”
The gown slipped lower, pooling at her feet. She stood in her thin shift, acutely aware of Khaeric’s heat at her back and his breath against her hair.
“Look at me, lass.”
Slowly, Aeryn turned, her arms crossing instinctively over her chest. Khaeric stood before her, bare-chested. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She should have looked away, but couldn’t.
“I’ll no’ harm ye,” he said. “That’s no’ our way.”
Aeryn swallowed. “I don’t know your ways.” The shift clung to her like a second skin, translucent in places where the light caught it.
“Then, learn it. Start wi’ this. If ye wish it, we start wi’ what’s least binding.” He turned and walked toward the steaming pool, giving her a moment of privacy. Without ceremony, he shed the rest of his clothing and stepped into the water. Then, he turned to face her, waiting.
The floor seemed to hold Aeryn in place. Her shift suddenly felt too thin, too insubstantial against the heat of the chamber and the weight of Khaeric’s stare. “I cannot.”
His expression didn’t change. “Cannae or willnae?”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shift, clutching the last barrier between her skin and his sight. Even bathing had been attended only by handmaids who kept their eyes lowered. Now, this stranger, this husband, expected her to shed that final protection and step into the water with him.
“Both.”
Khaeric sighed. “Then, we’ve our first lesson in difference, lass. Yer folk hide their skin. Mine dinnae.” He leaned back against the stone rim of the pool, one arm stretched along its edge. “Ye’ve much to learn about my kin. And I about yers.”
She looked away, fixing on a point where the steam gathered above his head. Aeryn swallowed hard, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “Turn away. Please.”
Khaeric studied her, then nodded once and faced away.
She unlaced her shift, drawing in a deep breath as she gathered her courage, and let it fall.
The air kissed her bare skin as she slipped into the pool.
A small gasp escaped her as the heat enveloped her.
Aeryn sank until the water reached her collarbone, her arms wrapped around herself. “You may turn now.”
Khaeric did, giving her time to meet his gaze. He didn’t glance lower.
Instead, he reached for the clay jar on the pool’s edge and lifted the lid. The scent of juniper—earthy and sweet—rose as he scooped out a thumbful of thick, greenish sludge.
“Come closer.”
Aeryn hesitated, then inched through the water, stopping when she was still an arm’s length away. “What is that?”
“Mountain soap. Made from oil and herbs.” He gestured again. “Turn ‘round.”
Pulse hammering, she obeyed. Water rippled against her shoulders as he gathered her hair in one hand. His fingers massaged her scalp in slow, steady circles. Aeryn’s eyes fluttered closed. The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Yer folk believe we dinnae bathe.” Khaeric let out a short, humorless breath. “That we live in filth.”
Aeryn swallowed. Those were exactly the tales told at court, of orcs who reveled in their own stench, who wore the blood of their enemies as adornment. For the first time, she wondered who those stories were meant to serve.
He guided her backward until her head slipped beneath the water, his hand steady at the nape of her neck. He rinsed the soap from her hair, then gently lifted her back up.
“Yer turn.” Khaeric pressed the clay jar into her hands.
Aeryn’s eyes flew open. “What?”
“Wash my hair,” he said, as if it were the most ordinary request in the world. “That’s our way.”
The clay jar felt heavier than it should in her palms. The muscles beneath his mottled skin shifted as he settled himself before her, waiting.
“I’ve never…” she whispered.
Khaeric glanced over his shoulder. “Work it through. Rinse it after.” His tone was practical, instructive. “Nothin’ to it.”
She dipped her fingers into the jar, then reached for his hair. The dark strands were coarser than she’d expected. Carefully, she worked the soap into his scalp, her touch tentative against his skin.
“Harder,” he instructed. “Ye’ll no’ break me.”
She pressed more firmly.
“That’s better.” His shoulders relaxed under her touch.
Aeryn continued in silence. There was something unexpectedly intimate about washing Khaeric’s hair—more so than standing naked in the pool with him.
This was service, yes, but also connection.
When she finished, Khaeric submerged himself fully, disappearing beneath the water’s surface before rising again and turning to face her.
“There. It’s done,” she said.
“Not yet.” He reached for her. “Close yer eyes.”
Aeryn did as told.
Khaeric grabbed a small cloth and dipped it into a jar of soap. The rough cloth touched her cheek. “First water’s sacred to my kin.” The cloth moved from her cheeks to her forehead, then the line of her jaw.
Then, it shifted to her neck, following the gentle curve of her shoulder. “Why?”
He paused. “Water gives life. In the highlands, to share clean water is to share survival.” The cloth dipped below the surface to her shoulders.
When she opened her eyes, Aeryn found him watching her.
“Stand now.” The words were quiet, but unmistakably an order.
She stiffened. “What?”
“Need to wash the rest of ye.” His gaze remained steady, unflinching. “Stand.”
Her heart dropped. The water was like a shield, concealing what the steam did not. To rise was to expose herself completely. “I can do it myself.”
“Aye.” His tone softened, though the command remained. “But that’s no’ our way.”
Her legs unsteady, Aeryn rose. “This is part of the ritual?” she asked, forcing steadiness into her voice. His hand moved lower, and her eyes remained fixed on a point beyond his shoulder, unable to look at him.
Khaeric nodded. “It is.”
The cloth touched her collarbone. She stared at the ceiling, counting the glowing crystal clusters, anything to distract from the sensation of his hands moving over her skin. “My father,” she said, desperate to fill the silence with something, “would consider this barbaric.”
He chuckled. “Aye. Among my folk…” His hand paused mid-motion. “It’s a strange thing to hide from yer mate.”
“Mates?” The word felt unfamiliar on Aeryn’s tongue. “Is that what we are?”
“By yer people’s laws, that’s what we’ve become.” His touch remained methodical, yet each pass of the cloth sent ripples of awareness through her body. When it dipped lower, sliding across her abdomen, her breath caught. “Part yer legs.”
Heat blazed across her face. “What?”
“The ritual calls for all of ye be cleansed. Including there.”
Her pulse pounded so hard she thought it might shatter her ribs. “I—I can’t.” No one had ever touched her that way.
Khaeric’s expression softened. He reached out for her hand. “Ye can. It’s no different from washin’ yer arm or yer back.” It felt different, though. Worlds different.
Aeryn closed her eyes, fighting the urge to sink beneath the water.
“This isnae about pleasure.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s about trust, about standin’ equal. The first step toward what we must become.” When she didn’t move, he tilted his head. “Would ye rather do it yerself, wi’ me watchin’?”
Aeryn lifted her gaze to his. He watched her quietly, expression open and unguarded. Trembling, she widened her stance. The cloth brushed her inner thigh, then moved higher.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Khaeric’s hand slipped between her legs. A soft gasp escaped her when the cloth pressed against her center.