Chapter 13: The Rumors
Charles jolted awake, warm water still lapping at his shoulders.
For a second, he had no clue where he was.
Then the steam and the sound of water dripping against rocks snapped him back.
He was in the clan's hot springs.
'Crap, I actually passed out,' he thought, blinking as he rubbed his eyes.
The heat had been so soothing he'd melted into it, but now his muscles felt lighter, like the exhaustion from his fight with Lira had evaporated.
Charles stood carefully, water streaming off him in rivulets, and stepped out of the pool, leaving wet footprints on the stone.
At the pool's edge, he found a neatly folded bundle of clothes on a flat rock.
It was a tunic—not just any tunic. It was like Lira's: blue trim, fine fabric, no stains or tears.
Charles lifted it with both hands, almost reverently, and held it close to his face.
It smelled clean, like fresh cloth—a stark contrast to the threadbare, grimy tunics he'd worn as a servant.