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Iliya sighed at the sight of herself covered in her own blood in the grimy little mirror in her room at the tavern. Well, not just her room anymore. Madam Carrington occupied her bed. She looked from the woman to the basin of cold water in front of her with disdain.
Cleanliness is next to godliness, her father's voice rang in her head. She wanted to scream that she did not care. She was tired now that the shock of what had happened had worn off, now that her wounds were healed like they were never there. And yet, her hands were already in the water, scrubbing the blood from her skin. Her mind was blank as she scrubbed. The only thing that remained when she was finished was a slight tinge in color of her fingernails. That would just have to fade with time.
Stripping down to change into something clean, dry, and comfortable, she didn't worry about Madam Carrington's gaze. Her mind and soul were not here. Once dressed, Iliya cast Restoration on her roommate to tide her body over a little bit longer. Hopefully she would be back in her body soon.
Duties fulfilled, Iliya stepped out into the hallway. It was quiet, due to some of the boys being out, and Iliya stepped lightly. The walk to Eirik's room was short. She knocked softly. The look on Eirik's face when he opened the door told her he was surprised to see her.
"Miss Iliya."
"My room is occupied. May I come in?"
Eirik looked torn, and maybe a little confused. "Oh, wouldn't Miss Wynne-"
"I do not want to stay with Wynne," Iliya interrupted. It wasn't very princess-like, but she wanted to make herself very clear. If he did not want her to stay he simply had to turn her away.
"Please, come in," he said, stepping aside.
Iliya slipped inside, finally forced to acknowledge Eirik's state of undress as she came face to face with his shirtless chest. It didn't bother her, but it was noted. She glanced around the small room, despite the fact that it looked identical to hers. The only real difference were Eirik's things instead of her own.
The door closed. Iliya turned around to face Eirik. The mix of emotions on his face was hard to describe. Before she could really identify any Eirik was falling to his knees in front of her. She floundered slightly, mostly because it was unexpected.
"Sorry, I am so sorry," Eirik chanted, his face pressed to Iliya's middle. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and the other on his head, fingers buried in his hair.
"It's alright, it wasn't your fault," she said even as he continued to apologize. Perhaps this was just what he needed. Iliya could grant him this, at least.
Once Eirik seemed to calm down a bit Iliya cupped his jaw to coax him into looking up at her. She briefly glanced at the mark on his neck that he suffered for her.
"We should rest."
They should talk. She knew they should, but after the events of the day it would just exhaust them further. There would be time for talking later.
Ushering Eirik into his bed and putting out the lights, she finally realized how small the tavern beds were. Or rather, how large her paladin really is. Climbing in after him, she wound up scooting lower so she wouldn't accidentally kick anything delicate. That meant she was also using his arm as a pillow, and face to face with his chest.
Iliya had never done anything like this before. There had been enough romance novels tucked away in the library back home to get an idea, though. It was nice. Comforting. Something she could definitely get used to.
"Comfortable?" She whispered into the dark, tucking her arm in front of her, hand resting against Eirik's chest.
"I was going to ask you that."
"I am," she answered, a slight lilt in her voice betraying her smile. "If you need to move me around to get comfortable, you can."
There's a quiet moment, almost like Eirik was debating something, before she felt his arm slip over her side and pull her a little bit closer. Her face flushed, but she had no complaints. His arm was warm against her back, and his heartbeat was strong under her palm. Once they settled, it was easy for her to fall asleep.