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“I think we are an hour out from the closest village,” Artem said, readjusting his weapons on his belt.

“Come on.” Torin took Emara’s hand, dwarfing hers in size. “Let’s get you to the inn.” He tugged her along, threading his fingers through hers as they walked back to their horses.

Looking down at her hand in his, she prayed to the Gods he wouldn’t let go of it until they were out of the forest.

And he didn’t.

Even when they entered the humble inn, which was cosied into the front of a small village, he still held on to her hand. The front room of the inn was small, and it smelled like the smoke from an old fire had burnt out hours ago. A rustic bar sat in the corner, with a few bottles of liquor to choose from all displayed on polished oak barrows. The tiles of the floor lay cracked under Emara’s boots as she walked in a little further whilst her guards sorted the arrangements for the night. It wasn’t the freshest place she had ever stayed, but it sure did beat lying on the cold ground.

The innkeeper, who was a small but well-rounded woman, must have decided that the blood all over Emara’s face and body was unacceptable. Quickly, she was directed to her room, leaving the boys downstairs to enjoy a whisky that Artem had ordered to take the edge off the cold and the pain in Magin’s shoulder.

It was clear that the human innkeeper knew about the world of magic, and it made Emara wonder how many humans actually knew about the monsters that roamed outside.

“Everything you need should already be in the room for you. There are fresh towels and hot water,” the innkeeper said.

Before Emara could say thank you, she had turned on her heels, making her way down the flight of makeshift stairs that looked centuries old.

Turning the rather large key in the sticky lock, she pushed the door open and entered her room. It reminded her of a horse’s barn with wooden panels on the walls and more wooden beams in the centre of the room, dividing where the bed and bathing areas were. No walls broke the two rooms apart, but Emara was just glad to be in something other than a tent. A humble fire warmed the room to a cosy temperature that had her skin tingling.

She shrugged her cloak off and let it fall to the ground.

She knew where her priorities lay.

Gliding across the room, she made it to the bathtub in a few seconds. She turned the water faucet that looked a little worse for wear and ran the water until it turned scalding hot. A delighted sigh escaped her mouth as steam evaporated and rose into the air. It had been days since she had bathed, or even washed, and she did a tiny happy dance on the tip of her toes in anticipation of what the warmth would feel like against her skin, what it would feel like for her body to be hugged by the purity of the water.

Stripping herself of her clothes fully, she dipped her toe in, and the rising steam came to greet the back of her leg. At first, it burned and niggled uncomfortably at her skin, but she persevered and lowered the rest of her body down into the tub. It wasn’t quite one of the baths that she had at the tower or in Naya’s cottage, where she could perform a tantalising bathing ritual, but she sure as heck wouldn’t be taking any sort of warm bath for granted again. Reaching for the basic soap that smelled like grapefruit and lilac, she ran it over her dirt-covered hands and face. She scrubbed everywhere she could, paying close attention to her hair, as it was filthy from where demons’ blood had dried.

Not knowing how long she had lay in the tub, sifting through everything in her chaotic mind, she finally looked at her wrinkled hands. Maybe it had been an hour? Or maybe it was longer. Her eyes closed as she floated in the bathtub. It was enough to ease the strain on her back from riding and to steam the dirt and demon blood from her skin.

But she was also grateful just to be in this moment, centring herself, like Naya had taught her.

Three quick knocks pounded the door and the round door handle turned quickly.

She let out a muffled squeal, her eyes flying open as she tried to cover herself with her arms and hands. Given the fact that the bathtub lay a few metres from the bed, in an open space, she didn’t exactly have anywhere to go or hide.

“Excuse me, this room is taken.”

Dark, perfectly placed hair and broad shoulders strode through the door and halted, taking in the sight of her bathing.

“Are you serious?” she hissed ferally. “Get out!”

One eyebrow sprung up. “Well, hello to you too,” Torin said as he closed the door behind him.

“No, I am serious, don’t close the door.” Her face flushed cerise as her arms tugged her femininity tighter. “What are you doing?”

“I am coming into my room,” he said casually, carrying a few bags and dumping them close to the old drawers that sat tall in the corner. Clearly, he was unfazed by a naked girl.

A knot tied tighter in her stomach.

“No, no, no!” she protested. “This is not your room. Can you not see it is currently occupied?” She pulled her legs closer to her chest. She was sure everything was hidden. Thank Gods the lathering of the soap had caused a lot of bubbles.

“I can see the tub is occupied.” His eyes danced dangerously, pebbled in mischief. Moving closer to lean against the large beam in the middle of the room, he let a dry smirk appear, revealing one of his dimples. “Had I known I could have been up here, being party to this, I would have drunk my night cap quicker.”

“You were not invited to this party!” Her voice almost split the beam of wood that his massive weight leaned against. Wincing, Emara regretted how loud she had been, but she did imagine the beam falling, taking Torin’s smug smile along with it.

“That’s a shame.” He pouted. “I also planned to bathe, you know.” His grin travelled all the way to his eyes. “Maybe we could be in there together.” He nodded in the direction of the tub.

“Over my dead body,” she jeered, wanting to flick water in his direction.