"Laughter is the armor of the damned, but even armor cracks when truth sharpens its blade."
The water ran hotter than I should have tolerated, steam filling the chamber until every breath was thick with heat. I braced my hands against the stone wall and let it scour me clean. Soap, oils, everything within reach, I used them all. Not because I was dirty. No. Because I carried Elias on me like a second skin.
His scent clung sweet, subtle, maddening. It haunted the air, my lips, the spaces between my ribs where he'd pressed against me not minutes before. I wanted it to linger forever. But Seraphine's eyes were sharp. Too sharp. She would sniff it out in an instant, and the kingdom would unravel before my very feet. So I scrubbed until the last hint of him was drowned beneath cedar and steel and the king's scent, nothing more.
