She chuckles. “We found him sleeping in a tree. Lorna took him to the river so he could bathe.” Her large eyes peer at me with great sincerity. “Perhaps you’d also like to bathe? We can offer you a fresh change of clothes if you wish.”

Embarrassment washes over me. Until now, I hadn’t stopped to consider how I must reek after surviving in these woods.

“A bath would be lovely.”

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Braizen

Whatever the Idunns put in their rivers, I want endless vials of it. The moment I dipped my toes in the water, my entire body felt refreshed. When I dunked my head and let the current flow over it, I realized I have never bathed truly in my whole life. Not like this. As I step out of the water, my body tingles as if I’ve been lathered in mint.

Lorna says that she feels as if she’s wrapped in eucalyptus, and her hair burns a brighter red than I’ve ever seen. Yes, something truly magical exists in these waters. I wrap the linen sheet she left me around my waist and am shaking water from my hair when the seraphic plucking of strings rises from a nearby glade. Idalia must have touched a tree. The music is divine, a perfect melody for such a heavenly morning. She’ll want her privacy. I quickly gather the ivory tunic Lorna also left; I can change elsewhere. But as I turn to leave, Idalia spots me.

Her cheeks blush, and her fists clutch her sheet.

“Good morn—”

“I left your cloak with Rianne—” We speak in unison, then stop in unison.

She laughs and then says, “Good morning.”

“Thank you.” My words almost trip over hers, and I let out a humorous sigh. “I’m sure it could use a heavy washing, too.”

She shrugs and swallows hard. “I appreciate the gesture,” she says.

“When you passed out, you were shivering. I couldn’t do much to help, so, I just kind of…threw it over you.”

Her laugh harmonizes with the tree’s harp.

“I decided it was better not to sleep right next to you, so I climbed the nearest tree. That way, I could keep watch without, you know, endangering us.” I’m rambling. I need to stop, but I can’t. My tongue continues to betray me. “I would’ve carried you somewhere more comfortable if I could’ve.”

“Really, the cloak was more than enough. I hate the cold, and I have a strikingly low tolerance for ale,” she says, pushing her hair from her face.

“Well, don’t let Torr or Lin hear you say that. They’ll make it their life mission to grow your tolerance. I should know.”