Best to stop fretting about it. Best to put his mind to other things, like being of service to his good king and he-who-would-someday-rule. Best to stop twitching and moaning like a kitten in heat and remember his responsibilities.
Faugh. Best to take a bath. Perhaps being clean would help his head—how did Lois put it?—“get clear.”
He bumped into Sierr on the way to the bathing chambers, and she smiled at him but, at his request from many sunrounds back, did not lower to one knee or drop her gaze. “Good rising, my prince,” she murmured, her sky-purple eyes tip-tilted and warm. “Require you some assistance this day?”
“No, Sierr. Be on your way.”
“My prince,” she said as he made his way past her. Though the hallway was more than wide enough to accommodate both of them, she brushed his shoulder as he passed and he smiled to himself. It would have been distracting and nice to have waterfun with the comely Sierr; she had rolled in his sheets before. But with his unruly thoughts all knotted up as they were today—as they had been for some time—he could not give her the attention she deserved.
Besides, she—she was not who he was looking for. He thought. He did not know what he was looking for. Or, for that matter, what he thought. Not for the first time, he envied Damon, whose charming princess had dropped almost literally into his lap.
In a rare show of events, he was the only one in the bathing chambers. Well, it was early, most people had work to be about. He did, too, i’ truth be told. It wasn’t worthy of him to sulk ’mongst the beriblooms and wish he were mated. He would wash quickly, and leave.
He stripped off his robe and stepped into the warm, fragrant water. He picked up a beribloom, crushed it in his fist, and began to work the lather across his shoulders and down his stomach. He heard a low sound, something like thrummmmmmmmm, and looked up, surprised.
He was even more surprised when the thrumming—a sound he had never before heard—got louder, and a bright gold circle of light suddenly appeared and spread wide, almost as wide as the bathing chamber. Maltese threw up a soapy forearm to shield his gaze, and as such almost missed the small form who fell through the circle of light and hit the water with a loud splash.
Just as suddenly, the noise cut off and the circle shrank down upon itself and disappeared with a whoosh. All that was left of recent events was the phantom circle imprinted on his eyes—it was everywhere he looked, and even now fading—and of course, the creature who had fallen through.
He waded to where it had fallen, stuck his arm into the water, and hauled it up as it sputtered and cursed.
Her. Hauled her up as she sputtered and cursed.
“Hello!” he cried joyfully. “I am Maltese.” He hugged her to him. “I am so happy to see you!”
His response was a stinging slap on the side of his face.