Page 118 of A Song of Air
Bryson bit her lip as he washed her curls, down her thighs.
When he finished thoroughly over her whole body he pulled her against his chest, submerging her a bit deeper into the water. She found herself relaxing against him, basking in the sensation for a few moments.
Sighing, she sat forward. “Now your turn.”
Weylyn obeyed silently, switching spots in the tub with her. It was awkward, and they mostly ignored the brownies that were walking in and out with their magic fizzling through the air. When Weylyn was in front of her, between her legs and caged around her thighs, she reached for his hair.
The tresses were silky and smooth. It was quite unfair how soft it was despite their trek through the Unseelie forest. Where Bryson’s curls had tangled within dirt, twigs, and leaves, knotting in several places, his was immaculate.
Bryson was equally gentle with him as he was with her, wetting the ends before tugging gently to pull him back and dunk his whole head in. Once he was dripping, she grabbed the same soap he’d used on her and rubbed it into his hair. His body relaxed into hers as she went through the motions, trying to be as clinical as possible and avoid getting lost in his body.
His addictive scent saturated her nostrils so much that she dropped her forehead to his back, bumping against the sharpness of his bones and inhaled deeply. There was something about his essence that she knew others might find too sharp, too much. She recognized it was the spice, but there was an undertone of sweetness as well. It was comforting for her.
It reminded her of the hot peppers her mother used to cook in her stews. Spicy, with just the right amount of sweet. The memory of that time was surprising. Something she hadn’t thought of in years, and it brought instant tears to her eyes.
Swallowing them back, she resumed her task, rinsing his hair and running her fingers through the long strands. It was longer than hers, trailing down to his waist. The strands pooled on the surface of the water like dark snakes. Once they were untangled and rinsed, Bryson and Weylyn stood, letting the water sluice from their bodies.
Immediately, the brownies rushed to them, producing fluffy towels that appeared to be made from dandelion tuffs instead of actual cloth that magically dried them within seconds.
Trying not to be shy about her state of undress, Bryson let herself be guided by the brownies. Their bark-like hands tugged at her naked form, slipping a shimmering cloth over her shoulders. The fabric adjusted to her body like a second layer of skin. It was sheer, and when she looked down at it, it glowed silver-gold like the webbing of a spider’s web. The design was all thin thread that glittered when she moved and pressed against her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Her eyes flicked up to Weylyn, who was being outfitted by the brownies in gold and black pants, though he stayed bare-chested. Once his boots were on, he shooed the brownies away before they reached for his hair, and he flicked the length over his shoulder, his fingers moving quickly as he twisted it into a long braid.
Bryson’s own hair was tugged through with a bristled brush, though her stands were left to curl around her shoulders.
Little lights bobbed through the air, making Bryson’s vision clearer. The brightly colored lights sprinkled glittering dust that shimmered down like a paste against their skin. One of the little pixies appeared, wings weighing it down as it carried a golden crown of thorns and placed it atop Weylyn’s head.
“Ready?” Weylyn asked her, his voice low and grave.
Bryson wasn’t. She was cold, uncomfortable. She didn’t fancy wearing a dress that left a good chunk of her body exposed. She wasn’t a prude by far, but she felt too exposed, too vulnerable. Especially in a court that wasn’t hers, surrounded by predators and enemies at all sides, without a wider range of sight to help her navigate it.
Nerves burst at the seams within her stomach. She tried to breathe through them, steeling herself against them, but it was hard, and she felt her chest compress with discomfort.
“Breathe.”Weylyn’s voice was an echo in her mind. She sucked in a breath that hurt her lungs just as the tent flaps parted and a small body thumped its way inside.
Bryson blinked down, making out small features of a male goblin.
The creature turned in Weylyn’s direction and bowed. Bryson couldn’t see well, but she wondered if it was more mocking than reverent.
“Prince, the queen requests your presence in the relic room immediately.”
Weylyn nodded at the goblin and a moment later, the air around them shifted, becoming a suffocating force. Darkness settled around Bryson’s vision like a blanket. Then, everything around them dissipated before they were no longer in the tent.
