The Dragon Prince's Consort

Twelve

Fang rinsed thick, creamy lather from her skin and climbed out of the huge basin, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel that hugged her body like a cloud. She scooped out a generous handful of luscious, richly-scented balm from a heavy glass jar and began to work it into her skin in wide sweeps, paying close attention to her hands, face and feet. The balm sank into her skin like butter on a warm roll and any hint of damage from Anun's blisteringly cold winds vanished, leaving just smooth, soft skin and the fresh, green floral scent of teaflower and fingerberry leaves.

Fang marveled at the heaviness of the balm and how it soaked in without leaving a greasy film. Do I even want to know how much just that little handful cost? The Drass woman behind the counter had told her what all was in the formula, but Fang lost all comprehension when the saleswoman rubbed a dab on her own hands and showed Fang how the cream smoothed scales, soothed windburn and protected skin from the freezing cold. Upon seeing her reaction Valen had bought her half a dozen jars of lotions, balms, powders, oils and creams, signing the receipt with a serious expression before turning to Fang and giving her a shy half-smile. It's too much, she'd protested, but Valen had simply shaken his head and taken her to the next shop.

Pulling on the gorgeous green dressing-robe Yena had lent her Fang stepped out of the washroom and into Valen's bedroom, previously littered with boxes, bags and cases of accessories, soaps, shoes, perfumes, cosmetics and jewelry that were now all taken to a nearby storage room where Valen had instructed palace staff to bring her robes when they were delivered. In their place an antique vanity with an enormous mirror and padded bench now sat in a well-lit corner, Fang's new combs, brushes, vials of perfume and hair oil and some basic cosmetics and tools laid out in orderly little groups. Fang had watched the boxes get broken down and the bags folded before being stuffed into a courier case to be returned to the shops while she and Valen ate dinner, feeling guilty for not helping the staff and Valen reassuring her that she didn't need to worry about it. Then she'd dropped her table-tongs when he informed her that everything he purchased that day, and anything he bought for her from then on, would be signed into her name and belong entirely to her. There's about three million kai in all of this, Valen had said as he gestured to the empty boxes, and another six in the robes. You're a wealthy woman now.

Fang combed her hair and spritzed it with a light oil to protect it from the cold. The woman in the mirror copied her movements, but Fang barely recognized her – with pink skin from the bath Fang's cheeks had more color than she'd seen in years, and she was wearing a robe that probably cost more than a year's rent in the better Federation neighborhoods. The comb in her hand was made from wood, a precious commodity on a rocky, cold planet where most greenery was limited to the narrow band around the equator. Fang couldn't read Drass yet, but she could still count the number of marks that indicated the cost of such a luxury item. A wealthy woman... If only Mom and Dad could see me now. Meilin and Charles Shan had been gone for years, what would they think of their only daughter now that she was the kept woman of a Drass prince?

In the hearth-room, Valen sat hunched over his desk with several books stacked on the surface and a text open on his tablet balanced against them. He'd removed his heavy silk outer robe, keeping the soft cream-colored under-robe and folding the sleeves three quarters of the way to his elbows. He held a silver pen and was jotting something down on a paper notepad, the pen traveling from the top of the sheet to the bottom before it flew to the top again as he drew out the symbols. His ears twitched when Fang stepped out of the bedroom, her new slippers whispering on the plush rugs and her robe making a soft rustling sound. Valen set down his pen and turned in his chair, looking up at her and smiling awkwardly. 

"So, um, how was the bath?"

Fang stopped just short of the desk, looking over the piles of books and papers and scraps of notes; some of the handwritten lines were crossed out, and a different writer had added notes next to them. "Good. How's the studying?"