“Good morning,” he said, and pulled her down for a kiss.
Like every kiss they’d had, she never wanted it to end. She cuddled up close to him, luxuriating in the warmth of his skin against hers.
When their lips finally broke apart, she said, “I wish we could spend all day in bed.”
“We could,” Lucas replied. “That is, we could spend most of it. I need to go down to the kitchen and find some food. Flying takes a lot of energy. But I could come back and bring you breakfast in bed.”
“A prince bringing me breakfast in bed,” Journey said, laughing, and then sat up. “Never mind. I’ll help you forage. Are you absolutely starved, or can we shower first?”
“Shower first,” Lucas said decidedly.
She smiled to herself at his tone. Unlike other men she’d dated, Lucas obviously preferred to be meticulously clean
. She bet she’d never have to remind him to put the toilet seat down.
In the bathroom, Lucas removed his bandages before stepping into the shower. Despite all the magic Journey had already seen, it was still astonishing to see how the raw wounds of the night before had healed into pink weals.
“Will they scar?” Jasmine asked.
“I doubt it. They weren’t very deep.”
She picked up his hand, loving that she could be so free with his body, and traced the little nicks and scars across his knuckles. “How deep were these?”
“Not very, but I got them over and over again. I think eventually my body got so used to them, it decided they were supposed to be there.”
“But what are they from?”
“Bladework,” Lucas replied. When Journey gave him a puzzled look, he elaborated. “Swordfighting, dagger fighting. I practiced every day since I was a boy.”
“With weapons dipped in dragonfire.”
“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “And sometimes they were sharp.”
Lucas turned on the shower, holding his hand under it to make sure it was warm before he beckoned her to step in. She wondered about his childhood and how normal he seemed to find it. He’d said it was stifling, but he’d never called it cruel. But whatever Lucas himself thought, if she ever met Grand Duke Vaclav again, she’d be tempted to punch him in the face.
She stepped in to the cascading water. The shampoo and soap smelled like Brandusan herbs, wild and spicy and astringent. Though Journey guessed that Lucas was too hungry for her to want to delay him, she did enjoy looking at his beautiful body glimmering under the sheen of flowing water. And she loved seeing how he looked at hers.
Obviously thinking the same thing she was, he said apologetically. “We can indulge ourselves here later. Or in the sunken tub.”
“I vote for the tub,” Journey said.
As she was toweling herself off, Lucas said, “Don’t put on your old clothes. I’ll find something clean for you.”
“Clean freak,” she teased.
“Better than a...” He paused, obviously searching for the phrase, and triumphantly said, “Better than a couch potato!”
Journey giggled. “That means someone who’s lazy, not someone who’s dirty.”
“Oh, does it? I always pictured a man crusted with dirt, like a potato dug out of the ground.”
“Nope. It’s a guy who stays on the couch where you left him, same as if you’d dropped a potato there.”
Lucas tapped her shoulder with an outstretched finger, wielding a mock sword. “I appoint you the royal slang coach.”
Journey laughed as he strode off, a towel wrapped around his waist. He returned a few minutes later with an armful of clothing. “I raided the attic. I hope something will fit. For myself as well. I can’t fit into anything I wore as a teenager.”
As Journey put on a pretty blue skirt and blouse with stylized flames embroidered around the seams, she asked, “How much did you grow?”