But there was no time to dwell on the past. I had a king to meet, and I couldn't afford to make a poor impression.
The bathing chamber was a marvel of magical engineering. Hot water flowed from crystal taps at the touch of a finger, filling a marble tub large enough for three people. Steam rose from the surface, carrying the subtle scent of lavender and mint—clearly, even the water had been enhanced with aromatic oils.
I sank into the warmth with a groan of pure pleasure, feeling days of travel dust and tension dissolve away. When was the last time I'd had a proper hot bath? The simple washing facilities at various inns along our journey hardly counted.
As I soaked, my mind raced with questions and concerns. What was the proper etiquette for meeting a king? Would I be expected to speak, or should I remain silent unless addressed directly? Queen Emma had mentioned strict protocol—what if I made some catastrophic social blunder.
