Chapter 44 Irena
IRENA
“I can’t get dressed until I bathe first,” I say, trying to ignore the look Valen is giving me. I think watching the three knights “pay obeisance” to the Sorceress has gotten him excited.
It excited me too, but I’m not admitting it—not even to myself. Instead, I study the tub in the corner, which is lined with large, green leaves. It’s wooden, just like the one at The Slaughtered Lamb, but that’s where the similarities end.
The tub at the Lamb was crudely carved and rough to the touch. The tub in this magical flower room where the Lady of Thornmere has placed us, is smooth and polished and the outside is carved all over with what looks like runes in the Old Tongue. I frown as I puzzle them out.
“Be ye Clean,” I mutter, under my breath.
“What?” Valen frowns, confused.
“Oh—these runes on the side of the tub. I think they’re in the Old Tongue.
The first one says, Be ye Clean and the second says, Be ye Refreshed.
” I frown at the third rune, which doesn’t look familiar.
“Um…and I think this last one says, Be ye…Pleasured?” I shake my head. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes sense to me,” Valen rumbles, giving me a look that makes me blush. “But look…” He points at the tub and I look more closely… and gasp in surprise.
The runes are glowing—it’s as though an invisible flame is tracing them and causing them to be outlined in golden light.
“What the fuck?” Valen mutters, stalking over to examine them more closely. But when he touches the side of the tub, nothing happens. He studies them a moment later, then shrugs. “Huh—they’re not even hot.”
“Maybe the tub has some kind of extra special cleaning magic,” I suggest. “It would be nice to feel completely clean,” I add, rather wistfully.
I know I had a bath in the witch’s cottage, but who knows what I actually bathed in?
Also, spending the night in a cave and then tramping down a dusty path through the forest isn’t exactly conducive to good hygiene.
Valen raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Thinking of taking a bath, are you, Princess?” he purrs. “Would you like me to help you with that? Scrub your back, maybe?”
“Certainly not,” I say primly, ignoring the way his words make my pulse quicken. We went too far last night—I know that now. I need to pull back before something bad happens.
“What am I supposed to do then?” he asks, frowning. “Just sit on the bed and watch?”
“No, I don’t want you watching me naked!” I protest. “You can go find out more about the stronghold. And if anyone catches you, say you were looking for some soap for me or something like that.”
“It looks like they have soap for you right there.” He points to a carved wooden ledge by the tub where several delicate crystal bottles hold various colorful liquids.
“Say I want a special kind of soap—sheep’s milk soap—because it’s good for my skin,” I say quickly. I absolutely cannot let him see me all the way naked. It’s too risky—especially after the things we did together in the cave.
“Is it?” he asks, frowning. “Good for your skin, I mean?”
“It has lanolin in it,” I say. “So yes, it can be—unless your skin is oily. In which case you ought to use—”
“Never mind,” he says quickly, raising a hand to stop me. “I didn’t ask for a whole fucking lecture on skin care. I’ll go exploring for a while. Just don’t take too long—I’d like to bathe before dinner too.”
“I just need a quick bath and to wash my hair. I won’t take too long,” I promise.
“Good.” He nods and heads for the door. “Be careful in here alone, sweetheart. This place is stiff with magic—I can feel it all around us. And I’m not sure all of it’s benign.”
His words send a shiver of apprehension down my spine—mainly because I feel it too and I agree with him.
“I’ll stay right here,” I promise him. “Just going to take a bath and wash my hair.”
“All right—I’ll see you in a bit.”
He nods once more and leaves, being sure to shut the bark door behind him.
I stand alone in the living bower, surrounded by softly glowing blossoms and the slow, steady breath of the tree around me.
The air is warm and damp, heavy with the scent of flowers—jasmine, honeysuckle, and something darker and earthier beneath it all.
The golden light makes everything feel unreal, as though I’ve stepped into a dream.
Just a bath, I tell myself firmly. That’s all. A bath and clean hair and then I’ll get dressed. I wonder what’s in the wardrobe?
I’m tempted to look, but I’m too eager to get off the dirty ragged dress the witch gave me and the tub is calling me.
I step closer to it and see that it’s already filled with hot water—further evidence of the magic all around this place. It’s almost like it anticipated my desire to wash.
Well, I’m not complaining about that.
The leaves lining the carved wooden tub are broad and waxy—a deep emerald green veined with silver.
Tiny white flowers bloom along the curling vines woven between them, each petal faintly luminous.
When I brush my fingers over one, it quivers slightly beneath my touch.
Then it turns toward me, almost as though it’s asking what I want.
I pull my hand back, frowning.
“That’s strange,” I murmur to myself.
Still, I can’t deny how inviting the tub looks. The water within it is perfectly clear and steaming gently, sending up tendrils of fragrant mist. I dip my fingers in and gasp softly—the warmth sinks instantly into my skin, neither too hot nor too cool—as though the bath knows exactly what I want.
Again, I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have my wants and needs anticipated.
I glance once more at the door to be certain Valen hasn’t returned—then begin unbuttoning my dress.
It slides off me easily, the ruined fabric whispering as it pools at my feet.
I shed my panties next, folding them carefully and placing them on a low carved bench beside the tub.
Honestly though, I need a new pair. I need a new everything.
I certainly hope the magical wardrobe holds undergarments as well as outer ones.
Standing naked in the golden glow of the luminescent flowers, I feel oddly exposed—not just physically, but in a deeper way, as though the tree itself is watching me.
I’m not sure I like that feeling, so I’m quick to climb into the tub.
The leaves cradle my body immediately, warm and pliant, molding themselves to my shape. I sink down with a sigh as the water rises to my shoulders. It smells faintly of rain-soaked earth and flowers after a storm.
“Oh,” I breathe. “This is… wonderful.”
On the wooden ledge beside the tub, the crystal bottles gleam invitingly. I reach for the first—a pale blue liquid that shimmers like captured moonlight. When I unstopper it, the scent of lavender and something cool and minty drifts out.
I pour a little into my palm. The soap warms instantly, turning silky between my fingers. As I rub it over my arms, it foams into pearlescent bubbles that slide over my skin like liquid satin.
The next bottle holds a golden liquid that smells of honey and wildflowers. Another is deep green, sharp with rosemary and pine. Each one feels perfectly suited to its purpose, cleansing without drying, leaving my skin tingling and soft.
I’ve never had so many choices—not even back at the castle. I have to say, I love all the scents except for the pine one—that smells slightly medicinal, so I don’t use any.
When I pour the shampoo—thick, milky white, and scented faintly of apples—over my scalp, it tingles pleasantly, almost fizzing as though it was alive. I work it through my hair, closing my eyes as the bathwater seems to swirl gently around me, rinsing away soap without my having to lift a finger.
I rinse my hair and then I just lay there for a while. I know I promised Valen I’d be quick, but he’s not back yet. And after the ordeal of the forest, the warm water feels so good—so relaxing.
I close my eyes for just a moment and I think I must take a little nap. When I open my eyes again, the leaves are shifting beneath me.
“What? What’s going on?” I say out loud, my voice coming out groggy and half-awake. I was having some kind of dream about trying to reach a golden apple on a tree but it kept hopping out of my reach.
I feel motion again and open my eyes wider, looking around. The vines lining the tub are moving…slowly…deliberately. One curls upward, its tiny blossoms brushing against my shoulder. Another slides along my calf, the petals soft and cool. Are they trying to wash me?
“That’s enough,” I say nervously, trying to laugh it off. “I’m quite clean now.”
But the flowers do not retreat.
Instead, more vines rise from the water, their blooms opening wider. Soft petals begin to glide over my arms…my shoulders…my back—scrubbing, polishing, working on my skin with gentle but insistent strokes.
I guess they really are washing me—only I don’t need washing. I wonder if their behavior has anything to do with the strange Old Tongue runes I couldn’t quite read on the side of the tub. Are they following some kind of magical mandate?
If so, they need to stop—it’s making me feel strange to be in a tub with vines that move on their own.
“Stop,” I say, lifting my hands to brush them away. “That’s enough—really.”
But before I can push the intrusive blooms away, two vines coil around my wrists—not painfully—but firmly.
My arms are drawn outward, held apart above the water, exposing my breasts completely.
Hold still so we can wash you! I can almost hear them saying. The vines tighten just enough to make it clear this is not a suggestion.
My breath catches in my throat—I don’t like this. It makes me think of what happened in the forest…of Old Man Oak.
“No—no, let go!” I struggle, panic rising in my chest. “That’s enough! I said stop!”
The flowers ignore me.
More vines rise, their blossoms sweeping over my skin in methodical strokes, scrubbing and caressing in turns, sliding over my body with uncanny purpose. The sensation is not rough—but it is thorough—relentless in a way that makes my heart pound.
And then two large white blossoms fasten themselves over the tight points of my nipples.
“What…what do you think you’re doing?” I demand, breathlessly.
But a moment later, it becomes obvious. I feel suction—gentle at first and then harder. At the same time, it feels like two delicate tongues are licking me—teasing my peaks to make me squirm.
And I certainly am squirming! Just a moment ago I was having a terrible flashback to the way Old Man Oak had grabbed me with his vines. Now my thoughts have switched and I’m remembering how Valen sucked my nipples last night in the cave when he healed me.
I try to fight the strange, illicit feelings the blooms are giving me, but it’s a losing battle.
Already beneath the water I can feel my pussy getting hot and wet.
Oh my Goddess, what’s wrong with me? I should be hating this.
But somehow I can’t resist the pleasure the two naughty flowers are giving me.
Their little tongues are doing things that make me gasp and thrash in the tub.
And then another vine rises to hover in front of my face. I stare at it uncertainty—it has a single blood-red blossom right on the very end. The blossom seems to be moving—almost pulsating. It purses its petals—which look almost like lips—and makes a kissing sound at me.
“What are you?” I ask it aloud, though of course it can’t answer. “And what do you want from me?”
As if in answer, the red blossom sways seductively—almost hypnotically—in midair.
“What do you think you’re going to—” I start.
And that’s when the red blossom dives into the water, right between my thighs.