Chapter 7 #2
My cheeks burned. “I…ah…” Mortification fought to keep my lips sealed, but I had no choice but to blurt it out. “I need to use the chamber pot,” I finally said, voice low.
A flush crept up his neck. “Um, I can fetch one of the chambermaids to assist you.”
Pain intensified lower in my abdomen. “It can’t wait.”
“I…ah… I don’t—”
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t use a chamber pot.”
I blinked. “Then where do you relieve yourself?”
“In my washroom. There’s a…um, a privy.”
My eyebrows quirked up. “A privy?”
“It’s like a chamber pot, but stationary…like a seat built into the ground.”
“Sounds fancy,” I teased, though the urgency clawing at me from the inside made me want to groan. “Can you help me to your washroom so I can use your privy, please?”
His jaw ticked. “Syl, you’re still injured. You could tear a stitch.”
“I’ll take my chances. I had a lot of mead, and if you don’t help me to your washroom, I will wet myself all over your fine sheets. And then this whole mortifying situation where I’m begging the crown prince to bring me to his privy so I can pee will be even more embarrassing.”
Jack let out a defeated breath before gently lifting me into his arms and carrying me toward the washroom.
The space was grand, like everything else in his quarters.
A massive basin rested atop a carved wooden vanity, with stacks of folded linen nearby.
The walls were lined with sconces holding flickering candles, their soft glow casting the polished stone tiles in golden light.
Against the far wall sat the contraption in question: a beautifully crafted wooden cistern with a smooth, curved seat.
My gaze flicked to Jack, his expression caught somewhere between utter discomfort and grim determination. “Well?” I said, amused, though heat crept up my face. “Are you going to help me, or are you going to just stand here looking scandalized?”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he hesitated. “Honestly, Syl. Maybe it’s best I call for one of the chambermaids. They can be here in a hurry and—”
“Just help me to the privy, lift my gown and pull down my undergarments.”
His eyes widened in terror.
“Oh, for crying out loud! You’ve seen me naked before. This is nothing compared to that.”
“We were kids swimming in the lake,” he shot back. “This is…different. You’re different.”
“Gods, you’re acting like I’m asking you to strip me bare.”
His scowl deepened, but he stepped toward the privy, carefully lowering me onto the seat, his hands awkwardly avoiding too much contact. He reached under my nightgown and fumbled with the ties of my undergarments before finally loosening them enough for me to sit properly.
I smirked up at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
His gaze snapped to mine, filled with warning, before he exhaled through his nose. “I’ll wait outside.”
He turned on his heel, striding toward the door without another word. I couldn’t stop the amused chuckle that bubbled from my lips.
Who knew that the formidable Jack Frost could be undone by something as simple as helping a female relieve herself?
As I tinkled, I cleared my throat, attempting to distract myself from the sheer mortification of the situation. “So, how does this contraption work, anyway?”
Jack shifted outside the door. “The privy? The cistern is fitted with a gravity-fed chute that leads to an underground disposal system. Something about natural filtration or a cleansing chamber. Beyond that, I haven’t the faintest clue.”
I huffed a small laugh. “So, you enjoy the luxury but don’t bother with the mechanics?”
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“Well, all homes should be fitted with one of these. Beats a chamber pot any day.”
“Are you finished? You need to get back to bed.”
I smirked, entertained by his discomfort, despite the fatigue dragging at my limbs.
“Almost, My Prince. Just a moment, and I’ll be ready to be carried back to your royal bed.
” The teasing in my voice felt…strange. Too light-hearted, too whimsical for what had transpired.
Was it the blood loss making me giddy and loosening my tongue, making me revel in the absurdity of this moment?
Wincing, I reached for a linen cloth, carefully tending to myself before attempting to stand. But the moment I did, a searing pain lanced through my side, white-hot and merciless. My vision swam, the washroom tilting sideways as my balance faltered.
I barely managed to whisper his name before the door slammed open, and Jack was there, catching me before I could crumble.
His arms curled around me, solid and strong, cradling me as if I were spun glass. His grip was firm yet careful, his body radiating a warmth that seeped into my trembling limbs.
“As I said,” he murmured, voice edged with frustration, “you need to get back in bed.”
I curled into him instinctively, exhaustion pressing down like a thick fog. “I’m sorry for putting this burden on you,” I mumbled, my head lolling against his shoulder. “You could have left me in the infirmary.”
“The tonic the healer gave you is still in your system, it seems,” he said instead, his knuckles brushing lightly over my temple as he laid me back on his bed, tucking the furs around me. “It’s meant to ease the pain and help you sleep. It’s probably why you’re still so drowsy.”
I fought against the haze clawing at my consciousness, my grip tightening around the fabric of his shirt. “Stay.”