Page 14 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)
LEXI
I woke to the scrape of leather and the soft thump of packs being shifted. Torin was crouched in the half-light, sorting through our things, while Dude wound around his legs, tail flicking.
“Good morning, Torin.”
“Good morn, Princess.” He closed a pack and straightened, bumping his head against the low ceiling. “I need tae step out tae relieve m’self. Can I leave ye?”
I stretched. “I need to go too, should I come with?”
“Ye may use the chamberpot, there.” He nodded toward the shadow under the table. “I am sparin’ ye the sight of me doin’ it.”
I followed his eyes to the bowl under the table. “Wait… that bowl?”
“Aye.”
“So I’m supposed to crouch over it and… go? Then what?”
He hunched, already heading for the door. “Then ye just ignore it. The innkeeper will dispose of it. It winna matter much, we are leavin’ for Glenesk as soon as possible. It looks like rain.”
I swung the covers off me. “You learned all this since you woke up?”
“Aye, twas tae keep m’mind off how much I need tae pish.”
I waved to the door. “Okay, yes, go.”
“As soon as I am out ye will bolt the door.”
“Yes.”
He slid out and I dropped the heavy bar into its groove, locking myself inside, and the bad guys out.
The room was dim, only a faint slant of light past the edge of the shutter. I looked at the chamberpot. My stomach lurched, but I did really need to pee.
Using my foot, I dragged the bowl out to the middle of the room, scraping across the floorboards. I crouched to inspect it and gagged. It did not look clean enough.
I pulled up the tunic to my waist, crouched over the bowl, and peed. Then I tried to think about pooping, but nothing. I wondered, how long since I last took a poop? Three days?
That was fine, right?
I tried for longer, strained a bit, but my thighs were shaking and I worried Torin would return. Ultimately the whole thing was futile.
I wouldn’t worry about it.
I gave up and then wished I hadn’t dragged the bowl to the middle of the room. I had to actually pick it up — with my hands. Trying not to jostle it, gagging the whole time.
Now my hands were even more filthy. On the table sat a pitcher and a bowl, the water still clear.
I poured some into the bowl, dipped my fingers, and scrubbed hard with the sliver of lye soap.
The sharp smell bit my nose as I worked the suds up my arms to the elbows.
By the time I finished, the water was murky gray.
With nothing clean to dry with, I shook my hands briskly until they stopped dripping.
I set about wrapping myself in the plaid again, tugging it around like a makeshift dress.
Although it was ingenious that a plaid could second as a blanket for sleeping, it was disconcerting that it had been on a strange man, then on me, on a horse, then covering Torin on the floor, then back on me.
That was a lot of use, maybe too much history for a piece of wool, especially without being dry-cleaned, ever.
I was pinning the plaid when a quick knock rattled the door.
“Torin?”
“Aye.”
“Just a minute. Almost dressed.”
I finished the pinning, hefted up the heavy wooden bar, and swung the door open.
He stepped in and I asked, “How do I look?”
He smiled. “Ye are a bonny lass.”
“Good, I wasn’t sure I got the plaid right.”
He chuckled, “I meant yer face is bonny. Yer plaid looks like it lost a fight.”
“Very funny.”
“We will hae tae put the cloak on ye tae cover the parts of yer plaid that are all askew.”
He stooped and hefted the bags onto his broad shoulders while I tugged on my socks and shoved my feet into my rainboots.
He asked, “Are ye ready?”
“Where’s Dude?”
“I told him tae meet us in the stables. He said he would be there in time, ready tae go, he had a few cat things tae do first.”
I laughed as we left our little room.