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outside, Myron took up Tamsen's post just outside the back door. He tilted his head up, watching the stars.
    It was beautiful out here. Myron had spent most of his life in Rishaw or traveling. Even when he had downtime, he spent it at home, in Rishaw. He rarely had the opportunity to stop and enjoy the stars. Even if this wasn't exactly leave—or a break, given the way Tamsen was working him—Myron was enjoying it.
    Tamsen fetched him after a bit, his skin flushed from the heat of the bath. He definitely fulfilled the 'handsome' part of being a stereotypical prince. Myron might not be able to go there, for a number of reasons, but he definitely planned to enjoy looking—and provoking Tamsen into flushing.
    Dinner was another meal of leftovers: the remnants of the previous day's soup, more odds and ends of bread, and Tamsen pulled out the ale again. The meal passed quietly, though substantially less awkwardly than lunch, to Myron's relief. He was almost too tired to notice, and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep once he finished eating.
    "Unless you have objections, I'll teach you whatever spell you want tomorrow," Tamsen said, punctuating that with a yawn. He looked as tired at Myron felt, and Myron couldn't stop himself from echoing Tamsen's yawn.
    "I'd probably set myself on fire if I tried anything tonight, as tired as I am," Myron said agreeably.
    Tamsen smiled briefly, climbing to his feet. "Help me move the tub out. You can sleep in front of the fire."
    Myron nodded, finishing the last of his ale. Thankfully, Tamsen was stronger than he looked, and maneuvering the still-full tub outside didn't take as much effort as Myron had feared. Tamsen fetched some of the blankets from the enormous stack on his bed and made up a pallet for Myron on the floor in front of the fire. The light of the fire dimmed as Myron settled in, and Myron was asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes.
    *~*~*
    Myron was woken by a crash of dishes and several choice curses. He contemplated getting up to see what havoc Tamsen had wreaked, but he was warm, comfortable, and still tired, so he let himself doze off again.
    The second time he woke, sunlight was streaming through the cottage's windows, and the smell of lavender and mint was strong on the air. Myron lingered on his pallet, not wanting to get up and find out just how sore the previous day's exertions had left him.
    He could hear faint noises from somewhere outside the house, though, so Myron reluctantly dragged himself up into a sitting position. He stretched his arms up and over his head, wincing. As he'd expected, the chopping had left his arms and shoulders sore. Not as sore as if he'd slept outside again, but sore enough he hoped Tamsen didn't have any strenuous tasks in mind for him.
    Myron stood up awkwardly, nearly falling over in the process. Tamsen wasn't inside the cottage, Myron noted immediately, but by the sounds just outside the back door, he hadn't gone far. Myron settled his borrowed clothing into place and laced his shirt as he headed for the back door.
    Tamsen was there, as Myron had surmised. His very bare back was to the door, and he was engaged in washing a stack of clothing—his own and Myron's, Myron saw when he tore his gaze from the smooth ripple of muscle as Tamsen ran some piece of clothing over a washboard.
    "There's breakfast on the table," Tamsen said. He didn't turn or so much as pause, and Myron grinned despite the brusque greeting.
    "Good morning to you, too," Myron said, which only earned him a rude gesture. He snickered, leaving Tamsen to the washing.
    He really should have been used to Tamsen doing such things by now, but it was still something of a marvel to see a prince—a former prince?—doing laundry. Myron was sure no other member of the royal family could do their own laundry. Myron hadn't done laundry himself until after he'd joined the King's Guard, and he was more than happy to let anyone else handle it.
    Breakfast was simple fare