She rose from bed with practiced ease, the pale silk of her robe slipping across her shoulders like water. Without looking toward him, she gave a small, crisp clap.
A few soft knocks came at the door.
"Draw a bath," she said, her voice as calm and clear as ever. "And bring breakfast to the sunroom."
The maids bowed, murmured acknowledgments, and glided out as quickly as they'd entered, leaving her and Klein alone again.
He watched her in silence. Something in his posture was different today—thoughtful, maybe. Or a little unsure. Like he wasn't quite used to his own skin yet.
Once the footsteps had faded into the hallway, he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, awkward in a way she'd never seen from him before.
"…Noir," he said, carefully. "Would it be alright if we… bathed together today?"
She turned to him slowly.
There was no drama in the motion—just a quiet kind of alertness. Her pale blue eyes blinked once, then settled on his, cool and unreadable.
But beneath all that royal training, something flickered.
Not offense.
Not embarrassment.
Just surprise.
Technically, the question wasn't strange. They were married, after all. They'd shared beds, shared nights, shared everything their union required. That closeness wasn't new. It was expected.
But still—this felt different.
It wasn't about what he asked.
It was how.
His voice was quiet. Uncertain. Like someone trying something for the first time.
She looked at him a little longer. Same sharp jawline. Same silver-white hair. Same piercing gray eyes. And yet… something was off. Or maybe on, for the first time.
There was a softness there. A kind of honesty she wasn't prepared for.
And he was smiling.
Not that distant, polite thing he used to wear like a mask. This smile was real—unguarded and almost too wide for a noble's face.
"…It's not a big deal," she said finally. "If that's what you want."
He grinned, clearly pleased, and walked over to her in a few easy steps.
Then, without asking, he picked her up.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her breath hitched—not from fear, but from the pure surprise of it.
She'd been carried before, sure. Ceremonial things. Staged moments for the benefit of the court.
But never like this.
Not with warmth radiating from him like sunlight.
Not with laughter rumbling in his chest.
"Well then," he said, beaming, "let's not keep the bath waiting, dear."
The bathing chamber was as excessive as always—high ceilings, warm marble floors, soft enchantments humming beneath the surface. Lavender hung in the air like a lullaby. A wide pool shimmered in the middle of the room, the water gently steaming.
Maids bowed as they entered.
"You're dismissed," Klein said softly. "We've got it from here."
They hesitated, clearly thrown off. One glanced at Noir.
She gave a tiny nod.
And just like that, they were alone again.
He set her down beside the water, then moved without ceremony to pick up a silver-handled brush and a small bottle of cleanser from a polished tray.
"May I?" he asked, not pushing.
She raised an eyebrow, slightly caught off guard. "You want to wash my hair?"
"I do," he said simply. "I've never done anything like it before."
It wasn't flirtation. There was no game in his voice.
Just… intention.
And something like curiosity.
She didn't say yes. Just turned her back and lowered herself onto the carved stool, letting her long white hair tumble down her back in soft waves.
He knelt behind her.
Ran warm water through her hair.
And then, slowly—gently—began to wash it.
His hands were careful. Not clumsy. Not mechanical. Just deliberate, like he was trying to understand every strand, every texture, every moment. Like this wasn't just a task, but an experience he wanted to get right.
She sat there, still and quiet.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
It wasn't even intimate.
It was just… different.
When he rinsed her hair, it was slow. Thorough. He helped her into the bath afterward, his touch lingering only long enough to steady her.
Steam curled up around her shoulders as she settled into the water.
A few moments later, he stripped off his robe—no pretense, no performance—and washed himself quickly before slipping into the pool beside her.
Neither of them spoke.
The only sound was the gentle shifting of water.
He leaned his head back, arms resting on the ledge behind him, that same small smile tugging at his lips.
She glanced at him sideways.
He looked… content.
Completely at ease in a way she'd never seen before.
He'd always been restrained. Distant. Like someone who carried his entire life behind a locked door and refused to let anyone knock.
But this—this was different.
He looked like someone who had finally exhaled.
She narrowed her eyes, not sure what to make of it.
Their marriage hadn't done this. Nor had court life. Nor her brother's victories. None of the things people usually credited for growth.
This was something else entirely.
She turned away again, steam brushing her cheeks as she leaned back slightly against the edge.
He hadn't touched her beyond the bath.
Hadn't asked for anything.
And yet somehow, this moment—this quiet, simple act—felt more personal than all the nights they'd shared out of obligation.
Noir didn't trust easily.
But she wasn't naive.
Something had shifted in him.
She didn't believe in fairytales.
Didn't believe in sudden change.
But curiosity?
That she believed in.
And in her world—where alliances could be as dangerous as enemies—
Curiosity was never safe.