The rest of Cordelia’s day was decided for her—she was instructed to follow a woman around she had hardly could pronounce the name of, and definitely needed another tour to get her surroundings in her memory. She was dressed in a thin veiled green dress, which she had switched out of in favour of this short, silky blood red chemise. It reminds her of the silky bedsheets that the thief and her shared—her last night of peace. Well, not really, she ponders. That night she was discovered—and the next morning—almost killed. She slips under the bedsheets, tucking her neatly tied braid behind her shoulder. She was relieved that her hair had been clean and free of knots—braiding it would keep the tangles out while she sleeps.

She's startled when the door suddenly opens.

The thief named Radjerd’s eyes scan the room, warming when they settle on her. He slips off his newly acquired beige vest and pulls the cover from the side, inviting himself into her space.

<What do you think you’re doing!?> Cordelia pulls her covers to her chin when the thief invites himself into her bed. She braces her hand against his chest to keep him there.

He sighs—heavily. <Alteus put us in the same room because he thinks we’re married. And, we want to keep him thinking that way.>

<We are not married.> She glares at him. <Go sleep somewhere else.>

He looks around the room. Cordelia notes that there isn’t much here except for a couple of chairs and a nightstand.

<You’ve slept on the floor before. Do it again.> She commands.

<I’m not a viper, Deely. You’re not going to be poisoned by sleeping next to me. In fact, I recall you snuggled right along this side as I woke this morning.> He pats his chest for emphasis.

<I know, and that was different. You didn’t know I was the princess then.>

<What difference does that make? If you don’t trust me after I saved you from Freydis, I don’t know what will…>

Yes, she knows he had saved her life—but the thief’s actions had put her there in this very position. Cordelia turns to her side, resigning her thoughts. The least she could do was let him have a comfortable rest. <Very well, but stay on your side of the bed.>

<We don’t get to talk about this afternoon? I’m quite curious about your day.>

<What of it? I had a bath, then I was following some woman around getting to know the place. The dance hall, the costume room, the sauna, what else is there to discuss?>

<You don’t wish to know what I did?>

She lies on her back, a sigh escapes her gritted teeth. <What did you do?>

His laugh isn’t helping her mood. <I visited old friends on the south side. A very friendly bunch of individuals—that you very well cannot meet. I told them that you were a very shy woman since Alteus told them I was married, they wanted me to introduce you to them and telling them that you were wary of new people was the only way I could keep them at bay.>

<I assume I can’t meet them because they will discover my identity.> She didn’t mean to sound downcast.

<I didn’t expect you to be disappointed.>

<I’m not. Now let me sleep.> She turns her shoulder away from him.

A despondent sign leaves the thief’s lips. <If that’s your wish.> He rustles in place, getting comfortable. <You smell nice.>

Cordelia sits up, taking a long look at the thief beside her.

<I didn’t realize compliments offended you.> He shrugs.

Cordelia narrows her eyes. <They don’t—you do.>

<We’re back to this, again?> He grumbles. <I hardly think I deserve this response. I’ve done everything I can to spare you from being discovered!> He lowers his voice to a whisper. <And all I get is your sharp tongue as thanks.>

Cordelia hates to admit it; he’s right. She grips the covers, remembering what she promised herself—she had to make nice. Just because she felt like her regular self didn’t mean she could act like it. She couldn’t afford to.

<You’re right. I apologize for my rudeness.> She can’t help the speed of her voice, it was tough to admit when she was wrong. <I hope I didn’t offend you too greatly—I appreciate that you didn’t kill me.>

He eyes her playfully. <There’s a better way you can apologize.>

Cordelia rolls her eyes. She knows him well enough to know what he wants. And, it wouldn’t kill her to do it—she did like kissing him. Without saying so, she takes the initiative, scooting towards him. Surprised and elated, he wraps his arms around her waist as her lips meet his. The thief’s fluffy hair brushes against her cheek when he leads her on top of him.

<Now that’s better,> he whispers against her bottom lip as his warm, clean hands move down her waist, slowly moving his hands underneath her chemise. <If you’ll allow me, I can help you have a restful sleep.>

A knock on the wooden door wakes Cordelia up from her slumber.

She didn’t have time to enjoy the memory of her night—her knees still quivering with the delights he bestowed upon her. He took much pleasure in satisfying her; he was okay with keeping it to that. Even though Cordelia was more than ready, the thief had denied her. She was a princess, first and foremost. He might have taken her virtue, but if he had known she was royalty—he would have thought twice. As disappointed as Cordelia was, she could respect his decision.

Cordelia steps out of bed, arranging herself accordingly. She doesn’t want to allude to any funny business—although her legs were indeed wobbly from the thief’s magic hands, as she called them in her head.

She’s surprised when Alteus greets her on the other side. She shouldn’t have been—he owned this establishment after all.

Alteus grins, <I hope I’m not interrupting anything.>

<You’re not. He was just—oh GOD!> She shields her eyes, encouraging Alteus to do the same when she saw just how revealed the resident in her bed was.

<Now how did an innocent girl like you run into a man like this? Granted, how soon did the two of you marry?> His suspicion raises when he examines how red her face was.

<We’re newlyweds if you must know.> She says, keeping up with the thief’s lie. <I’m still not used to seeing him…well…you know.>

<Ah, he’s got his work cut out for him it seems. Now, Deel, the other dancers are in the hall. You should join them for their morning soak. Cleanliness is key, after all.>

<Of course.> She averts her eyes as the thief covers himself with his blanket. <I wanted to thank you again for letting me and …my husband stay here.>

<You’re welcome. I’ll keep him company while you make yourself familiar with our dancers.>

Cordelia does as told, keeping her fake smile plastered to her face until she closes the door. It soon falls into a speculative frown. Where was the bath house again?