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There was no room for discussion. Valda picked Maris up and made her way to the tub. The water, which was still lukewarm, was already sprinkled with soothing oils. Who had prepared the bath? Valda didn’t know. She was just grateful it wasn’t freezing like the one she used to wash her face moments ago.

The thought of her being the one to bathe Maris was a welcoming change. It had always been Maris, the one who always drew baths and scrubbed her down. Valda was looking forward to being the one to help her out for once and it would give her immense pleasure to take care of her with such a basic thing as bathing her.

“No one has ever done this for me,” Maris said as she moved to the other side of the tub. Valda held on to the rim as she slipped inside and settled down, sitting face-to-face. “The last person to draw me a bath was Melvian, the night you bashed into my maid chamber. It was always my mother who drew my baths… when she remembered.”

Valda leaned back against the edge of the tub, taking up most of the space when she stretched out her long legs. “Tell me about your mother,” Valda requested, grabbing a cloth and soap near the tub and lathering it abundantly.

Maris took a deep breath while Valda leaned forward to knead at Maris’s feet, lifting them above the water with one hand and rubbing the cloth with the other. Valda watched as Maris rolled her eyes back and leaned against the rim of the tub. Valda took it all in. As much as she wanted to focus on cleaning her, she was too embroiled in watching Maris’s face as she relaxed underneath her strokes.

“My mother was a good woman. She took care of me as if I was her own, and never asked for anything in return, except, of course, that I behaved and did what I was told.”

Valda grunted in approval, her hand and cloth moving to Maris’s calves. Her silence was an invitation for Maris to continue.

“She taught me how to play the violin. I guess she did it as a way for me to still be connected to my culture.”

“Sealians are great artists,” Valda said, stroking behind Maris’s knees before switching legs to start anew.

“No lie there.”

“Can I ask you something personal?” Valda’s caresses slowed down as she stared at Maris’s face. She didn’t want to make Maris feel uncomfortable, but it had been something she had wanted to know for some time. Straightening her shoulders, Valda wetted her lips and said, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Maris opened one blue eye to look at Valda. “What is it, darling?”

Valda swallowed hard and finished cleaning up Maris’s legs before asking, “Did you ever find out the reason behind your mother’s death?” As soon as she finished her question, Valda noticed how Maris pulled back, exactly what she didn’t want to happen. “I am sorry. I should not have—”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I do…” Cupping her hand, Maris splashed some water on her arms and chest before taking the cloth from Valda.

Valda knew it was all an act. Maris needed to keep her mind busy with a task to help her calculate her words. She could feel Maris’s inner turmoil and a tinge of anger, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort her.

“My mother didn’t take it well when my father disappeared.”

“I thought he had passed away.”

“He died, according to my mother. She felt the bond shatter. She… lost herself.”

“Grief can make you do that.”

Maris nodded. “What I don’t understand is how she could have left me, knowing how much we both suffered when my father died.”

Valda could almost feel Maris’s anger burning inside her heart. If it pained her, she could only imagine how Maris felt. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever talked about it with anyone.” Maris puffed her cheeks as she explained through pursed lips.

“Talking can help.”

Maris scoffed while Valda dipped the cloth in the water and continued bathing her. She moved to straddle Valda’s waist. Quietly and ever so gently, Valda rubbed the fabric over Maris’s arms, making sure to get all the paint off her skin.

“I don’t think I can do so without crying.”

“Did you allow yourself to cry?” Valda asked, her eyes moving from Maris’s arms to her face just as Maris opened her mouth, but closed it and turned away.

“I will take that as a ‘no’.”

“I didn’t have time.” Maris sounded defensive. “As soon as she was gone, as soon as she was buried, I needed to find a way to keep going, to keep living. Melvian was kind enough to find me a job at the tavern, then she dragged me to the castle.”