Asaron disappeared into his own suite, and she followed Mikelos into the one designated for their use. A space once again almost lifted from her own home, filled with antique furniture. Even the mismatched chair and writing desk between the curtained windows was a familiar sort of idiosyncrasy. Mikelos bee-lined toward a chaise lounge in the corner of the room but drew to a halt a foot away. “I’m filthy.”
Victory found the energy to laugh even through her exhaustion. “We could split the shower?” She spied a welcome beacon of shining tile through a doorway in the far corner of the elegant room. The enormous four-poster bed, topped with a luxurious quilt, also called her name, but where a layer of gray grime covered Mikelos, she had both grime and her own dried blood.
Mikelos dipped his fa
