Page 53 of Song of the Heart Scale
Maeve blinked. “I... see.”
“Yeah. So—bath?”
“This way.”
She led me through a small archway and into a bathing chamber that honestly looked like it belonged to a minor goddess. The tub was carved from marble, deep and steaming, with oils and salts lined up on a low shelf nearby. A small fire crackled in the corner hearth.
“Do you need help undressing?” she asked gently.
“I mean, I just survived hand-to-hand combat with Thorne and a royal dressing-down from His Highness down the hall, so... yeah. I think I’ve earned a little pampering.”
Maeve helped me peel off the robe and I lowered my body into the water with a long, grateful sigh. The heat seeped into my bones and melted some of the tension away.
“You’re quiet.” Maeve kneeled to pour scented oil into the water.
“Just thinking.”
“About going home?”
“About whathomeeven means anymore.”
She said nothing, but her fingers found a washcloth and gently ran it down my back. The simple gesture unraveled something in me.
I wasn’t ready. Not to say goodbye. Not to lose this. Not to face a future that meant I might have to live without Damien—or worse, trap him in a life where I’d become the ghost he couldn’t outrun.
And the worst part?
I didn’t know what to do.
Maeve worked quietly for a few more minutes, rinsing my hair and massaging a fragrant oil into my skin that smelled like lavender and something spicy I couldn't name. I closed my eyes and leaned back, basking in the warmth.
“Did you ever think,” I asked after a long pause, “that I’d end up like this?”
She tilted her head. “Like what, my lady?”
“Sitting in a royal bathtub, post-battle, post-coital, having existential crises with tea-drinking royal princes.”
Maeve offered a gentle smile. “You’ve always surprised me. But no, I did not see that coming.”
I cracked one eye open. “Be honest. On a scale of one to total disaster, how close am I to imploding everything?”
She considered. “You're definitely leaning into ‘chaotic storm wrapped in silk.’”
I snorted. “I’ll take it.”
“What did Royal Prince Bai tell you, my lady, that has you so worked up?” Maeve inquired as she scrubbed my body.
I sighed. “I asked Damien to come back to my world with me. I guess he told his uncle, who just told me he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He warned of potential consequences. And boy, did he give me some good reasons, Maeve. I could legit ruin Damien’s life.”
Maeve bit her lip. “That’s a difficult predicament, my lady. I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”
“It’s all good,” I grumbled.
After the bath, Maeve helped me dry off and slipped one of my dresses over my head—a blue one embroidered with silver thread. It fit better than I remembered, like armor masquerading as elegance.
“Do you want me to braid your hair?” she asked, holding up a brush.
“Nah. Leave it down. Let’s not pretend I’m trying to impress anyone today.”
