The Abbess
The sound of bells woke Derya from an unusually deep sleep. She would have suspected that the Elves had dosed their food with something if she didn't know any better.
*Perhaps they had?* Drya suggested, still more asleep than awake, which wasn't helping Derya.
*Why?* She asked, pouring water into the basin from the bucket beside it.
Although spartan, the rooms were larger than expected and more convenient. She hadn't slept in a bed that comfortable in her life, and the linens were exceptional when she half expected scratchy woven blankets and rock-hard mattresses.
Nor was the air as cold as she expected a stone chamber inside a mountain would be. Even so, the woven carpets were a nice touch.
She dumped the soft washrag into the water, bracing herself for the cold, and stared at her hand in surprise. To call the liquid inside the bucket chilly would be generous, but it wasn't anymore. Somehow, the stone had warmed the water to the perfect temperature.