CHAPTER 26: STUBBORN IAN 2

When the queen left, Ian shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his eyes finally settling on the servant who still stood by the bath with her hands folded neatly in front of her. He cleared his throat, more to break the silence than anything else, and asked, "What’s your name?"

The girl hesitated for a heartbeat, then lifted her head. "My name is Lyra, my lord," she said softly.

"Lyra..." Ian repeated, testing the sound of it. "Well, Lyra, I’m not used to all this. Back home, I bathe myself. I don’t need anyone hovering around me."

She bowed her head slightly. "I understand, my lord. But the Queen has given me strict instructions. I am to attend to you in all matters. To disobey her command would be breaking an oath I swore."

Ian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, I don’t get a say in this, huh?"

Her eyes flickered with the faintest trace of sympathy. "Not while her orders remain, my lord."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Figures." But he didn’t move away when she stepped closer.

Lyra worked quietly, untying the garments he had been given and slipping them from his shoulders. Ian stiffened as she undressed him, his arms twitching as though he wanted to cover himself, but she carried on with a calm, almost professional touch.

"This is really awkward, you know," Ian said, trying to mask his discomfort with words.

"I know, my lord," Lyra replied. "But it will pass. I will be swift."

He snorted. "You talk like you’ve done this before."

Her lips curved faintly. "I was raised in service. This is not the first time I have tended to someone."

"Yeah, well, it’s definitely the first time for me," Ian muttered as she guided him toward the bath.

The water rose around him as he sank into it, and he let out a small sigh. "At least it’s warm. That last time, I thought they were trying to freeze me alive."

Lyra dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it out carefully. "The guards are not gentle. They only know how to wash as they would scrub armor."

Ian gave her a sidelong look. "So I was armor to them, huh? Just a body to clean."

"You are more than that, my lord," Lyra said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly am I supposed to be?"

Her hand paused briefly before she answered, "You are of imperial blood. That means you are someone the kingdoms will fight over."

"Great," Ian muttered, leaning back against the edge of the bath. "Just what I always wanted, to be a prize in someone else’s war." He joked and laughed dryly

Lyra didn’t respond to that. Instead, she continued to wash him with steady hands, moving the cloth over his arms and shoulders. Ian tried not to flinch at the closeness, speaking again just to fill the silence.

"You’re really serious about this oath thing, aren’t you?"

She nodded. "I gave my word. If I break it, I will not only dishonor myself but bring shame upon my family."

Ian tilted his head. "And all this... this secrecy. You already know who I really am, don’t you?"

"Yes, my lord," she admitted. "But my tongue is bound by the promise I made to the Queen."

"Guess I should be thankful for that," Ian muttered.

When she was finished, she rose and fetched the robes that had been prepared for him. She held them carefully as though they were made of fragile glass. Ian stepped out of the bath, and she draped the heavy garments over his frame one piece at a time.

"These feel strange," Ian said, tugging at the fabric once she fastened it. "Too heavy. Too... much."

"They are robes of royalty," Lyra explained. "They are not meant for comfort, but for bearing. They will remind you of who you are meant to be."

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, they remind me that I didn’t choose any of this."

Lyra’s hands paused briefly on the folds of the robe, and then she said softly, "Perhaps not. But sometimes choice comes later, when one has strength enough to claim it."

Ian looked at her, half expecting her to be mocking him, but her expression was calm and sincere. He let out a long breath and shook his head. "You sound a lot like the Queen already."

"She raised me to serve her house," Lyra replied simply.

"Well," Ian said, tugging again at the robe as though it might suddenly become lighter, "let’s hope you don’t expect me to be as obedient as you are."

She bowed her head, her voice soft but firm. "I expect nothing, my lord. I only serve."

Ian gave a dry laugh. "Yeah. And I’m the one stuck wearing this costume."

The robe settled heavily around his shoulders, and for a moment neither spoke. Lyra adjusted the last folds neatly, her fingers lingering briefly before she stepped back. Ian looked down at himself, exhaling in resignation.

"These clothes don’t fit me," he said quietly. "But I guess they’ll make me fit the part."

Lyra stepped back after arranging the last fold of his robe, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she spoke again. "There is one more matter, my lord. The Queen instructed me to see to your hair."

Ian frowned, instinctively lifting a hand to the tangled strands that fell over his forehead. "What about it?" he pretended like he hadn’t argued with the Queen about it earlier.

"She asked that I shave it, my lord," Lyra said carefully.

Ian blinked at her, then gave a short, humorless laugh. "Shave it? Absolutely not."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "It is her order."

"I don’t care if it’s her order," Ian shot back. "I’ve already had enough taken from me. I’m not losing my hair on top of everything else."

Lyra hesitated, lowering her gaze. "Then... what shall I tell her?"

"Tell her I refused," Ian said firmly, then softened his tone a little when he saw her expression. "Look, I’ll compromise. If she wants me to look presentable, then find me something to cover it. A hood, a cloth, whatever it is you people use here. But I’m keeping it."

Lyra lifted her eyes slowly to his, her voice even. "And your face, my lord? The beard, the growth, it was also her command."

Ian exhaled and rubbed at his jaw, the roughness prickling against his palm. "Fine. You can shave that. Just leave my hair alone."

She bowed her head, the faintest trace of relief passing across her face. "As you wish, my lord. I will see to it immediately."

Ian nodded, adjusting the heavy robe on his shoulders. "Good. At least that’s settled."