Chapter 3: Bloom and Glow

Hitomi felt herself rousing from the delicious heaviness of her dreams. Distantly, the familiar sounds of a servant moving around her further roused her senses. Growing up the daughter of a Count, she had been used to the soft bustle of serving girls preparing her room, but lately exhaustion and necessity had made her used to just the opposite. Her body felt heavy, and as she shifted, she noticed that this wasn't her simple bed in Yukari's home. This was a luxuriously soft bed, and its scent… she breathed in an essence that smelled vaguely familiar and masculine in a way that stirred her belly enticingly. Cracking open her gritty eyes, she saw the red glow of what she guessed to be an evening sun through the bed curtains.

Bed curtains?

Bolting upright, Hitomi blinked as she found her bearings. Her head swam, and it was a breath before her mind cleared enough for her to recall that she'd been sleeping in Van's bed. The last thing she remembered was crying herself to sleep. She touched her shoulder. Van had placed his heavy hand there and asked her to stay. It had been too much for her to take in, but now she could almost feel the warm pressure of his hand again. He'd come back and asked her to stay? The stirring in her belly returned, and she took a deep breath to center herself before rubbing her eyes and pulling the curtains aside.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," said an unfamiliar female voice. Hitomi turned to see a pleasant serving girl not much older than herself with her hands full of cleaning items. "I hope I didn't disturb you?"

"No, you didn't," she answered sleepily, looking around impressed. The servant had cleaned the entire room as she'd slept, and done it silently at that. Recalling how cluttered it had been before, that was no small feat. When Van had carried her in yesterday—no, earlier that day—the state of his room here had reminded her of the only time she'd been in his chambers in Fanelia, before it burned. The thought of that night made her want to roll her eyes; her husband hadn't even bothered having his room tidied for his wedding night. This, she knew, had to be the doing of Millerna, who probably knew about its condition and sent a servant in.

As if reading her thoughts, the girl said, "King Van instructed me to make the room and you comfortable for your night's stay."

"Oh!" Her breath hitched and she felt her eyes grow wide before she could collect herself. Desperately, she wished to ask the maid to repeat what she'd said, because certainly her husband, Van Fanel, didn't care what his room looked like for her, but discretion and honor made her bite her tongue.

Shaking her head and hoping movement would get her brain working again, she stood and walked around the room to examine it. There was a little tea table by a large window, a long couch in the center of the room, pushed away from the fire and backed by a larger table that had formerly been covered with trays and paperwork. Now the paperwork was stacked on the writing desk close to the bed and the table stood empty. A bin of trash stood ready to remove by the hall door. Even the floors looked swept and the fireplace was cleaned out and ready for a new fire. She must have slept very soundly to not hear all this.

Hitomi didn't know what to say. She looked at the busied maid and couldn't help but be impressed. Grateful for habits formed in her upbringing that gave her grace in her astonishment, she asked her name.

"I'm Rena, your majesty. Would you like tea while I run your bath?"

"Oh, yes, that—that sounds lovely," she said sincerely, peeking in to see that the washroom, too, had been scrubbed clean. The wash basin stood ready to be filled in the center of the washroom. The idea of a bath felt divine. Now the room was clean, the unfortunate grittiness about herself was all the more apparent, and her hair hadn't been brushed since she'd left Fanelia eleven days ago. "Do you happen to have tonics for my hair?" she asked Rena.

"Yes, your majesty, I have a tray full. King Van said to be prepared for it."

The addition of this news made her knees grow weak. Had she not been running her hand along the table, Hitomi might have collapsed for the second time that day. As it was, she leaned against it until the strength returned to her legs. She heard Rena pouring her tea at a little table by the window and, with that as her focus, stepped deliberately across the room in spite of her tunneling vision.

Gratefully, she sunk into the little chair and accepted the teacup. It had to be that she hadn't eaten enough—that had to explain her moment of weakness. Again she wanted to ask Rena to repeat herself, but she knew she'd heard correctly. Her problem was that she didn't understand why Van was suddenly showing her such considerations. Hitomi's first instinct attributed it to his innate snobbishness as king, but because he didn't normally fuss over his room, that might not be it. Perhaps losing his home had made him more grateful for his surroundings? No again, for the same reason. Maybe, she thought with a little horror, he had been so disgusted by her appearance that he ensured the entire place was cleansed, her included? It had been days since she'd properly cleaned herself off, after all. Yet as she examined his behavior towards her during their earlier conversation, he never once gave any indication that her travel-worn appearance bothered him. In fact, it had almost been the complete opposite: when he looked at her, his eyes had gleamed with something akin to admiration. She rubbed her neck and looked unseeingly out the window, willing her pounding heart to slow down. That was something she was unaccustomed to seeing from her husband.

She took a sip of her tea as she racked her brain for more explanations. Rena had started the bath water in the adjoining washroom and was now stripping Van's bed of the linens Hitomi had dirtied. Seeing her in action gave her an idea for a neutral question, one that would get her the information she desired without giving away how little she knew of Van.

"Rena, how often does my husband have you clean his room?"

The maid snorted so loudly Hitomi jumped, and tea sloshed over onto her filthy travel clothes. She scrambled for a tea towel as the girl answered. "My lady, as far as I know, nobody's allowed in here unless it's to bring food or something. Your husband is quite the recluse," she added with laughter in her voice.

Hitomi watched her sharply as she soaked up the dripping tea, but the easiness in the maid's manner confirmed her honesty. Realizing her predicament—the only proper conclusion was that she herself might be the impetus for such alteration in his behavior—Hitomi found suddenly the evening sun felt unbearably hot, though it had been comfortable a moment ago, and her dress now felt too tight. With a tug at her collar, she tried her tea again. It was hard to swallow.

In an attempt to calm herself, she tried instead to breathe in the warm aroma of her cinnamon-dusted tea, but its color reminded her again of her husband's eyes, this time how they shone in the sunlight as he clasped her hand. A phantom warmth spread where his hand had held hers, and she practically dropped her teacup with a clatter so as to rub the sensation away. It was the first time he'd held her hand in their marriage, and she admitted she liked the feel of his masculine hand with hers. Gazing into his beautiful eyes, too… Hitomi conceded that was something else she'd like to get used to.

But of course she had to start crying in front of him. Mortified at the memory, she sucked in a sharp breath and her feet, crossed at the ankles, agitated beneath her skirts. Ought she to be embarrassed by having shown so much emotion before her stoic husband? Or could she allow herself to feel elated that he'd spent five minutes comforting her in his warm, strong arms? Her turbulent emotions at the time made it so that she couldn't bring herself to look at him again before he left. Yet now she contemplated the moment, her hands and feet tingled and her body felt on fire. That was yet another thing she wouldn't mind repeating with him—minus the crying, and perhaps without—.

Hitomi stopped herself with a sharp laugh, only to notice Rena look up at the sudden noise. All too aware of her blunder, and to contain her blush, the queen cleared her throat before taking one last swig of her now-tepid tea. The maid sent her a curious look before resuming making the bed.

"Well, Rena," she said, standing and smoothing her dress in a useless attempt to dignify herself. "I'm ready for my bath."