Better they waited for such a display, lest Penryn insist on putting salve everywhere.
His skin prickled with awareness and with a quick glance he caught Penryn staring at his shirtless torso. She looked away just as quickly, but there was no mistaking the heat that went into her cheeks to be caught.
He was her Guardian, and she could look if she wished to do so.
But that did not account for the secret thrill that he buried away that she should want to.
He kept on his underthings, knowing they too would need to be properly scrubbed, but could be more discreetly removed once beneath the surface of the water. It was not a clear pool, the depths almost milky as minerals swirled in some undercurrent.
“You are certain this is safe?” Grimult asked again, and rather than give an answer, Penryn picked up the majority of her clothing and settled it onto the water’s edge before sinking a foot into the surface.
There seemed to be little in ways of a shallow, and rather than risk a more violent plunge, Penryn sat down before easing downward.
He worried for a moment that he would need to begin a rescue of her when her head disappeared beneath the water’s surface, but she came up, spluttering and laughing, evidently unharmed. “It is not so very deep,” she informed him. “I can stand.” She grimaced a little. “Which is probably a good thing as I was never taught to swim.”
Grimult gaped at her, taking hold of his own clothes before sinking into the water himself. “And you did not think that relevant information?” he asked, his tone far more serious than her own amused offering. “I would have entered first to ensure it was safe for you!”
Penryn sighed, looking downward as she watched the little waves her hands made beneath the surface. “Please do not be cross with me. Not today. Not when something nice has happened.”
Happened. Suggesting it had not been planned after all, not some ordinance from the sages, for them to be properly cleansed as their Journey began its end.
Unless he misunderstood. A part of him hoped he had. The other did not particularly care as the warmth spread into muscle and bone, as weariness he had not known he carried began to ease away.
“Lovely, yes?” Penryn asked, and she had the decency not to allow too much gloat to enter her voice.
“Tolerable,” Grimult groused, unwilling to fully submerge himself, to take his eyes away from their surroundings even for so short a time. He wanted to be ready to spring, to grab hold of his weapons and give proper defence should the need arise, but his body seemed to have a will all its own, coaxing and soothing, urging him to be at peace, if only for a moment.
Was this some spell of Penryn’s making?
He could well believe it, even if he could not fully begrudge her for it.
She gave a little sigh, slouching down so she could lean her head back, her hair spanning out like dark tendrils, creeping and reaching for him, determined though he was to keep to his own side of the pool. There were clothes to launder, clothes to even finish removing, yet he could not quite urge himself to move. Not yet. Not when he had never felt something quite like it before.
“We had a tin tub in our home,” Grimult found himself sharing, uncertain as to why. “If someone wanted a hot bath then the cook-pot would have to steep for ages.”
At his first word Penryn had inclined her head, the better for her ears to hear properly or so he thought. “A warm bath then,” she supplied with a gentle smile, not the sad offering she usually gave him when he spoke of home. “Rather than hot.”
He did not know why he felt suddenly choked, why thoughts of his mother’s kitchen should fill him with such longing.
But not for himself only, he realised, though he did miss it for his own sake. But so that Penryn might experience it, a humble home though it might be. But there was warmth and laughter enough, and food that was lovingly prepared for each sup, and...
Trivial, earthly things that should have been far beneath her notice or attention. But he always held her utmost curiosity whenever he spoke of his home’s simple comforts. Not at all the reaction of someone merely indulging a Guardian’s desire for home, something to be coddled and endured rather than savoured.
But Penryn did.
“Was it the same for you?” he asked, the water seeming to loosen his tongue far more than it should. “Warm baths rather than hot?”
Penryn did not answer immediately. She seemed very far away, her eyes glassy as they stared up at the greenery above, her hands skimming through the water in a facsimile of swimming, even though her feet should be firmly planted on the bottom of the pool.
“Cool rather than warm,” she said at last, her tone strangely dull even as she said it. “Not on purpose, mind you, but because my rooms were very far from the kitchens.” The awareness was there that she meant to suggest more, although she carefully omitted it all the same. Her rooms were far from everything, not merely something as menial as the kitchens, with their blazing fires and bustle of cooks and helpers.
“Was it very lonely for you?” Grimult asked, not knowing why he bothered to ask the question when he already knew the answer. It was in every line of her face whenever he gave her the slightest kindness. In the surprise and relief when he agreed to be her friend rather than simply her companion. Whatever the sages claimed she should feel, should require as the Lightkeep, Penryn clearly was not in agreement.
“I wondered,” Penryn diverted rather than answer his enquiry directly. “In the beginning, I often wondered if they had made a mistake when they picked me.” A sigh, deep
