His scented hand went to her brow and he stroked the fissure in her forehead with his thumb. The gesture was strangely serene. He said nothing.
His cleansing hands slipped along every part of her wounded form, purifying her as best as her evil vessel could be purified. He moved to one end of the surface and lifted her head, fanning her hair out like a peacock’s plume. He stroked her scalp before covering her eyes with a hand. He poured the cool, fragrant wine through her hair, letting it rinse away the blood.
The sensation caused a sigh to escape her lips. The cleansing wine cooled the hot, searing pain of her head. She closed her eyes beneath his hand, gave in and relaxed. His hands once again massaged her body. He pushed her feet to point, so the bath would roll off her toes. He lightl
