Page 39 of Lethal Souls
I move to the next door, gripping the gold handle, and what I see inside steals my breath away. Now I see why Killian didn’t reject the idea of a bath. This bathroom may as well be another place entirely.
Built like a cathedral with glittery black columns and a dome roof made of glass, it is the most elegant bathroom I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m not even sure if I should call it a bathroom. It’s more like a bath house.
In front of me is a body of water that could fit at least two Jacuzzis, steam rising from it in gentle wisps. Candles line the perimeter of the bath, their flickering flames creating an enchanting atmosphere that I can’t help being drawn to.
Gold light twinkles in floating lanterns and emits from sconces. Robes hang from hooks built into each column. Chaises surround the water, and next to them are shelves stacked with towels, soaps, and other items I can’t name.
Despite knowing that this all could be an illusion created by The Council to both impress and manipulate us, I can’t help but appreciate the beauty and luxury of it all. Or perhaps I’m under a spell.
Whatever the case is, I need to clean myself, and I’m not about to keep walking around in this sheer gown with vultures like Vassilis lurking in the castle.
From what I can tell, the bathroom is vacant.
Well, that’s what I think at first.
As soon as I slip into the warm water, I hear footsteps.
I freeze, listening as they scurry closer.
Oh, God. Who is that? I should’ve brought the dagger with me. What was I thinking? Now I’ll die in this place naked and alone.
As my heart races and my eyes widen, I watch the shadow in the distance come closer.
TWENTY-FOUR
WILLOW
To my surprise, it’s not anyone from The Council.
It’s a woman, petite with ash-brown skin. Her dark brown hair is thick and coily, and she wears a gray dress with a white apron.
In her hand is a silver tray topped with a white towel and two oval chunks. One of the chunks is black and the other is brown.
“Hello, I’m Sylvie. I am here to serve you tonight.” She gives me a warm smile, but I’m still wary. I lower into the water but, despite the steam, it does nothing to hide my body. “Would you like Vanorian Blossom or Luxor Spice for your choice of soap?”
I soften at the reminder of Vanorian Blossoms, thinking about that night in Caz’s childhood cabin. The first night we had sex and the very one that sealed our bond.
“Vanorian, please.”
Sylvie gives me a wink. “Wise choice.” She removes the brown soap from the tray. “Would you like me to wash you?”
“No, that’s okay,” I say, sticking my hand out. “I’ll just take it.”
Sylvie gives me a funny look, as if I’m the crazy one for denying a wash from a stranger, but she hands it to me anyway.
“As for your hair, I have something for that. Our hair is unique so it has to be treated as such. When you’re done, I can show you our oils and help you style it if you’d like.”
All of this is so unexpected. I can’t help wondering if Killian is getting the same treatment. God help the servant who sneaks up on him. Hopefully they’re not dead already.
“Are these the garments you’ve selected?” Sylvie asks, studying the outfit laid out on one of the chairs.
“They are.”
“Oh, absolutely not. This will not do.” She tuts as she shakes her head. “Once you’re done, I’ll show you the better clothes. A woman of your status shouldn’t be caught dead in this.”
She snatches up the clothes and tosses them into a deep bin in the corner. Then she busies herself with towels on a rack that are already folded while I give my body a quick wash.
Sylvie offers me a bottle of shampoo, and I wash my locs, grateful to get rid of the dirty smell of that prisoner cell. When she sees I’m done with a towel wrapped around my head, she offers me a black robe.