The room was hot. There was a fire burning fiercely in the hearth, and the tub set before it was generously sized, and permanent to the room. I thought it was equally used to wash the linens as it was for bodies, by the lines strung across the roof, but they had freshly filled it with water, poured over herbs, the slightly lemon and rosemary scent rose into the air with the steam of the water, battling the wood burn and ash of the fire. A table was pushed next to the tub and set with a plate of fruit and a bottle of wine, drying cloths, smaller cloths cut for washing with, and soaps.
“Ah,” Rivyn was pleased with the arrangement. “Perfect. Thank you.”
The innkeeper closed the door behind him.
The moment the door set into the frame, Rivyn turned to me and drew me hard against him,
