"Your Highness, why is your voice so hoarse today? Do you want me to prepare you some tea?" Cashew asked softly, placing a neatly folded towel beside the bath.
Florian was submerged in his new, opulent bathroom—a space more akin to a private spa than anything else. Steam clung to the walls, curling around the marble pillars and glistening mosaics. The tub itself looked more like a personal hot spring, wide and deep enough to swim in, its warm water shimmering with the scent of crushed petals and herbs.
He had been soaking in it ever since Heinz left. The heat helped ease the tension in his muscles, but did nothing for the storm brewing inside his mind.
Thankfully, Heinz had left just moments before Cashew arrived. The thought of being caught like that, tangled in emotions and regrets, was enough to make Florian want to drown himself in the steaming bath.
