"You need to blend in," he said, tucking a fur-lined scarf around her shoulders. "And look less like a goddess."
"I don't like being plain," she murmured as a joke as she ran a hand through her tangled red hair.
"You couldn't be plain if you tried." His voice was low, hungry. "But even stars wear cloaks in the storm."
Jean and Lucius ducked into a perfume and apothecary shop next. Jean eyed every glass vial like a predator browsing prey.
Lucius smirked. "Trying to smell lovelier than you already do?"
"I know I already do," Jean replied. "I'm trying to enhance it,"
They bought soaps, perfumes—lavender, myrrh, and something strange and spicy Lucius couldn't place but bought anyway.
A bathhouse and inn near the city's carved wall beckoned them with steam rising from its stone chimneys. Inside, the warmth hit them like a blessing.
Salviana practically melted into the wooden benches, loosening her cloak as servants led them to private bathing quarters.
