The hot water

"Your Majesty!" The same scrawny boy runs, bearing a letter.

"I was told to take this letter to you immediately," He huffs, bowing.

Prince Pyron casts him a sideway look before stretching his hand to take the letter from him. 

"It is…" The guard gets cut by Pyron's waving hand. He wordlessly exits the room leaving Pyron with the letter. 

Pyron immediately opens the already unsealed letter. The letterhead must have read it, Pyron assumes scanning the letter.

Your Majesty Princess Faustina,

His Royal Highness Kirill is quite disappointed by the recent turn of events. It is clear that your court values an alliance with kingdom Gyyza more than its values and its alliances with kingdom Cetus. Everyone is aware, Gyyza has been our enemy for decades and even then you chose to side with our foe. We will not sit quietly while you triumph over your new alliance with the marriage of your sister. Cetus will seek revenge; you will fall on your knees by the time we are done with your kingdom. 

Pyron crumbles the letter in his hand and throws it in the hearth across the room- it bursts into small exciting flames before burning into tiny ashes.

"Blind bastard! Cannot see the bigger picture here." Pyron swipes his ragging, heavy hand across the table, sending all the papers, pens and ink flying. 

"If he wants a war, that is what he will get!" Punching the wooden table, he stands up.

But Pyron knows Slyve is not prepared for a war right now. Slyve hasn't fought since the peace treaty between the five kingdoms and Ruzzi bay.

To win this battle against Cetus will be a miracle in itself.

***

When Mircea was told that a bath was prepared for her, this is not what she had in mind. There is only one bathroom in the house, located below the ground level.

The house has four levels excluding this, the lowest one made for leisure activities like sitting in a barrel with steaming hot water. However surprising it was, Mircea was not the one to complain. 

From the looks of it, Gyyza is a prosperous kingdom. In Slyve, only the higher officials could afford luxury like this. Slyve didn't make its people pay high taxes, but with the dessert on the left and sea on the right, there was only so much the people could make every monsoon. 

Most of it went in ammunition, every other kingdom had abilities that benefitted them in the war, but Slyve was a land of humans.

It was not possible to build an army solely on their individual abilities, like the vampires or werewolves. They had to make the most of strategies and machinery. 

When Urban said they will ride for Slyve tomorrow, Mircea had known King Diomedes had agreed to help Slyve. And it meant an alliance- every alliance has to pay a price.

She wonders how Slyve would pay back once her father will be healed.

Mircea stepped into the hot water, hissing she settled down. She dropped her shoulders, letting the heat unknot her sore muscles. Lilith is still unconscious.

Leaving her here will be hard.

Mircea met Anstice in the morning, and she seemed rather happy to aid Lilith and keep her here. However, Mircea was not so sure it was a good idea. 

Don't let your fears cause her pain, her subconscious mind had called out when she almost had told Urban that she wanted Lilith to be riding back with them. 

Mircea shushed the voice in her head and laid back, allowing her greasy hair to soak in the warm water.

Everyone must be sleeping, it was almost nighttime when she had debated about a bath. In the morrow, they were to set for Slyve and Urban had told everyone to get a good rest. 

It was after Mircea scrubbed her body clean with the exquisite witch soap, the water had turned cold. She steps out of the barrel picking the robe Anstice had given her.

Mircea probes around for a fresh set of garments Anstice had promised to bring her after she had finished applying herbs on Lilith's wounds. 

The garments she wore earlier are soaking deep in the lather, in the small tub next to the hassock, where her clothes were supposed to be! Mircea cannot believe Anstice forgot about it. She combs every corner, wishing for something to magically appear.

Not one cloth is lying around.

Saints forbid!

How can she roam in a strange house with nothing but this robe?

Mircea clicks the door open, glancing outside, she finds nothing but a dimly lit staircase. She has to make a run for it. She tightens the robe around her and skips the steps as fast as she can without falling on her face. 

The halls, poorly lit, making it harder to move swiftly. Mircea thanks the Saints; her room is on the ground level. All she has to do is pass the kitchen quietly, and then it is a free reign. 

She blinks her eyes, adjusting to the darkness before trotting across the corridor. Mircea glances at the kitchen entrance, afraid someone might be up when she runs into something solid. She jerks away, eyeing what or rather who is standing in front of her. 

"Is something wrong?" Urban's voice echoes the empty halls.

"What are you doing here?" Mircea demands at the same time.

"First of all, I own the place. I can go wherever I want." He retorts.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. I meant, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Mircea reframes her question; she folds her hands looking at the wooden flooring. 

He hasn't yet noticed her attire; she needs to get to her room before he does. Not that he will harm her in any way, Urban doesn't seem to be that kind of man. However, you can never trust a man's instincts. 

"I was thirsty," Urban replies blankly.

"Oh, well then…I will see you in the morrow." She takes a small step when he interjects.

"What are you doing here?" He notices her wet hair dripping on his floor. If he feels bothered by it, he doesn't show it to her. 

Urban watches her squirm under his stare, but he doesn't let his eyes wander away from her face. Her discomfort clear on her face; he doesn't say anything, simply steps aside, giving her room to walk away. 

"Err, I was taking a bath. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm drowsy. I want to get a good night's sleep before we start tomorrow." She almost runs for her room. 

Mircea was inept when it came to talking to strangers or simply men. She was around them, but it was always older ones, the ones with power and knowledge.

Who only cared about how much she can contribute to Slyve as a princess. Or the guards, soldiers whom she fought with to show her power and rank. 

It was never out of interest. 

Mircea knew one day when her father and Faustina would see fit, she would have to marry a stranger. She had accepted the idea and made her peace with it even though she detested it.