The water was hot enough to pull the ache of the road and the mine and the cold castle out of both of them at once. Trafalgar lay back against the sloped end of the tub, and Aubrelle leaned into his chest, her back to him, the two of them fitting together the way they'd learned to over the last years.
For a while neither of them said anything. The house had gone quiet around them, the water lapping soft against the sides, the light low and gold.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin against her wet hair.
"Tired?" he murmured.
"If that's your way of asking whether I've the energy left to keep going," she said, a smile in her voice, "I could be talked into thinking about it."
He huffed against her hair. "I meant in general."
