Chapter 5 A Dragon Bath

I sighed and washed the dishes. When I was finished, I could see through the open cave doorway that he had somehow heated the water in the bowl carved by the dragon and steam curled up in fragrant twists. He removed his clothing without embarrassment and stepped into the bowl, a breath-taking vision of muscle and skin, and his golden hair snaking out in the flow of the water as he slowly submerged.

I swallowed hard on the sudden heat that surged through me, and hurriedly resumed sorting the treasure so as to be occupied in other pursuits than spying lustfully upon him. I had not been wrong, I thought. The dragon's reading and wine drinking companions bathed in the water. I watched out of the corner of my eye in voyeuristic fascination as the beautiful man washed his hair and rubbed oil through it and across his skin. The soap and oil he used carried the mysterious scent of incense on it.

For all I tried not to watch, the angle was precisely right that I caught a tantalising glimpse here and there. He took his time, soaking and removing the stubble from his face, before stepping out of the water and drying himself on a length of cloth that had been meant for grander things... or had it? I amended. What grander aspiration could a cloth have than to rub against the skin of such a man?

He dressed again and walked into the cave with the bolts and chests of cloth. When he returned, he dropped a dress upon me.

"Wash," he commanded and sat upon his throne, taking a comb to his hair.

I chewed my lip as I went to the bowl, knowing exactly how visible the bathing pool was to the main chamber, and I watched the beautiful man nervously. Aurien remained in the throne, his back to me, and showed no interest as I undressed and submerged into the water. It was hot enough to steal my breath and scented by the soaps and oils he had left floating in it. As I washed my hair, I noted that the water fell cold from the cave wall, heated in the pool, and washed out through a hole beneath the surface, creating a continuous flow.

Magic, I thought. For all Aurien's statement that he was not a mage, only magic could heat the water. I rubbed the oil through my hair and along my limbs as he had done before rinsing it back off. I dried on the slightly damp fabric he had left behind and dressed in the unfamiliar dress. Without the undergarments and corset, it was both softer and lighter than my normal clothing, and it felt indecent to have so little between me and the world.

He continued to comb his hair as I re-joined him. "You can finish my hair," he announced. "And braid it, before using the comb yourself. Don't braid it tightly, it will give me a headache." He turned on the throne, draping himself over it so his hair hung over the arm and his head rested upon it.

I took the comb from his hand. It was stone and elaborately carved. I recognised the workmanship as Fae in origin. I sat on the floor and spread the gilded and heavy silk of his hair out over my lap so I could run the comb through it. By the time I had worked my way to the crown of his head, it was almost dry.

"You have never cut your hair," I commented as I laid the comb to the side and rose onto my knees in order to begin to braid the golden tresses.

His eyes were closed, and he was so still that I thought perhaps he slept. "It is our ancient tradition not to," he replied eventually, his voice quiet. Near sleep, I decided as my fingers worked their way through his hair, lulled by my fingers in his hair. It gave me an odd feeling of empowerment, to render so mighty a man almost to sleep through the simple act of combing and braiding his hair.

"I have never done my own hair," I told him with amusement. "But when I was young, a maid showed me how to braid my doll's hair. My favourite doll had real golden hair, but it was not quite of this shade."

"I imagine not," he was amused. "Unless they took the hair from one of my people."

"Who are your people, Aurien?" I asked him, intrigued. I had woven my way to the base of his head, and he put his elbows on the arm of the chair, pushing himself up, the muscles of his arms stretching the fine fabric of his shirt, so that I could braid to the nape of his neck. Once I wove down a length of hair, he sat up, swinging his legs around the chair, so that the braid formed over his shoulder and I moved closer, leaning over him, and then kneeling at his feet, in order to complete it.

He watched my face as I braided, frowning, his violet eyes clouded. When I reached the end, he tied it off with a length of gold wire, winding it tightly around the hair.

It took less time to comb and braid my hair and he leaned forward to wind the wire around the tail of my braid, his cheek close enough that if I inclined slightly forward, I could brush my lips across the skin. "Are you Fae?" I asked him.

He turned his head slightly and arched a brow with a sneer. "No." He turned back to winding the wire around my hair, twisting it to break it off the body of the coil and tucking the two ends so they were invisible to the eye. He leaned back into his seat. "You should go to bed," he decided. "If you are to make yourself useful for another day."

He took up a book and began to read.