"Could I use the shower or something first?" I ask.
"'Shower'?" my clueless host asks.
"Bath? Bathroom? A place to clean myself up?"
He laughs at me. "That's why I want to take you outside, my dove. So you can clean up and enjoy the sun on your skin after your time indoors."
"Fine," I say. "Let's go outside."
He picks me up, along with all the furs and blankets, before I've finished agreeing. I get the feeling my agreement didn't really matter, it just made things easier for him. I have a sense of deja vu, as if I know what's coming. My gut is telling me to jump out of his arms and get out of there fast.
"Have we... Have we done this before?" I ask.
He chuckles. The way I am held, it's a rumble of his chest against my shoulder. I feel sickened in a way I wouldn't expect. It's not like he's ugly or anything.
"Only every time you wake up, my dove," he says.
This does not reassure my nausea or my premonition of bad stuff coming.
"Isn't it a bit cold to be bathing outdoors?" I ask as he opens the door.
Really, I should be impressed at his ability to carry me and handle doors at the same time. It's the sort of thing Hollywood romances are made of. Why do I feel sick?
"The water will be warm enough, my dove," he says.
The sky is grey and overcast but the land is green and the ground isn't squelching when he walks, so it's certainly an improvement on the swamp. Maybe not as good as the forest before the rabbit hole. I wish it were a summer's day. I wish I wasn't doing this. I don't like this. Wishing is very not me.
It's a surprisingly long walk to the pool.
"Thank you," I say. "You can put me down now."
"As you wish, my dove," he says cheerfully and I find myself falling straight down on to the bank. There's probably about a hand's depth of water and considerably more of mud.
I swear but stop when I notice he's frowning at me.
"I don't approve of that sort of language, my dove," he says.
It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him where to get off but something makes me stop. I'm not the sort of person who listens to others when they say things like that. I'm the kind of person who swears harder and hits a harder and plays harder because of it. What happened? What did he do to me?
He steps away from the pool and sits down against a sheltering tree, watching me.
"Don't forget to clean the mud from those blankets and furs," he says. "We will need them clean and dry for tonight."
I have no idea if that's even possible but I pick each piece up, despite the fact that it leaves me naked, and work at removing the mud. My hands seem to know what I'm doing even if I don't.
"And tell me again about your family, my dove, " he says. "My family, once we are married."