The commander was reading. Again. With how busy Kip knew he was. It was strange.

Kip sidled over to see if he could see the book better.

A flat stare met him. Commander Ironfist raised a hand and extended three long fingers.

“I’ll, uh, be going,” Kip said.

He got to the door and turned. “Good day, sir.”

The flat stare didn’t alter a whit. The commander lowered one finger. Two.

Kip fumbled with the door, the luxin gloves making him clumsy. He chuckled awkwardly. “Gloves,” he said, dissolving them.

The flat stare of Your Colossal Pettiness bored through him. One.

“Right. Sir.” Kip grinned weakly and got out.

He made his way to the public baths. Before he’d got into the Blackguard, he’d never wanted to come down here. He’d thought that joining the Blackguard would be the end of that problem. The Blackguards had their own private baths.

As if bathing with the perfect-bodied athletes would be better than bathing with average strangers. One or two good-natured jibes about being chubby, and Kip was gone. He knew in his head that the nunks and Blackguards didn’t mean harm, that a rough sense of humor was necessary for survival in what they did. But like Andross said, even an obvious, well-defended target might still be vulnerable. Kip laughed off the jabs and shot back his own and smiled … and never went to the Blackguard baths again.

The main public baths were separated by gender—not that some sneaking each way didn’t happen with some regularity—and though many people opted for thin bathing robes, more went nude. Even the robes were too much sharing for Kip. Once they were wet, they barely covered anything; they clung to every inglorious curve, and were thin enough that you could soap your limbs through them. Kip had opted instead for sponge baths and washing his head in his basin.

There were, however, extensive private baths. Some were reserved for nobility, but others were open to anyone who paid the small fee. Lords got in free, got free soap, got free towels, got access to any temperature bath they wanted, and were given a share of the services of a bath slave, who would bring refreshments or towels. Kip had heard that at other baths in the city and through the satrapies, the bath slave was often a prostitute, but that wasn’t tolerated at the Chromeria. The bath slaves here were the same genders as the bathers and definitely not picked for their looks.

“Any of the hot baths unattended today?” Kip asked the head slave of the men’s side, signing in as a noble. It was one privilege he was not shy about claiming.

An older slave took him to a bath down a long hallway so humid that water beaded on the walls and steam obscured vision. Privacy wasn’t guaranteed: even the small baths could hold half a dozen people at busy times before religious festivals or the Luxlords’ Ball. But most days, Kip would either be alone or have to share with only one other person.

The man left Kip after making sure he had all he needed, putting Kip’s clothing and effects in a basket and leaving him alone with a robe and soap and a summons bell. It was an odd time of day to bathe—late morning—so Kip hung the robe on one of the pegs provided so it would be dry when he got out. Most of the students would be in classes now.

Classes, there was a thought. How long had it been since Kip had gone to every one of his classes?

He got into the water quickly, despite its heat and the solitude. He reclined against the side.

The heat slowly worked its magic on the stiffness in his muscles, and was beginning to unknot his mind, too. What was his problem? Clinging to Karris like that? He needed to grow up. He was basically an orphan, and it was time to deal with that. Someone offers you friendship, and you ask them to be family. For Orholam’s sake, Kip, you smother people. You’re so needy. It’s disgusting.

And this self-pity is sooo helpful. Maybe it’s time to break that habit, eh, Breaker?

Kip scrubbed his hands over his face. He sighed, eyes closed against all the world, letting the steam melt him. When he opened his eyes, there was someone in the bath with him.

“Aren’t you the bold one?” Tisis Malargos said. “What are you doing in the ladies’ baths?”

A bolt went through Kip. He jerked upright and almost fled. Then he looked down. He was stark naked. He was chubby and stark naked and utterly trapped. He swallowed. He looked around for identifying marks to show that he was in the men’s baths, but the private baths didn’t have any. Had the old slave been senile and brought him here by accident? “I’m not—I’m not—I’m not in the ladies’ baths … am I?”

“I’m afraid so.” She was definitely amused. Just letting him wallow in misery.

He looked toward the door, and thought about making a break for it.

“Don’t forget,” she said, “the baths are at the mesh point.”

“The what what?”

“The hallways and changing rooms are part of the island, while the baths are part of the interior of the Chromeria and rotate with all the structures above. This time of day, if you’re not careful, you could end up heading right out in the main ladies’ bath.”

Kip blinked. No wonder he’d gotten lost down here before! With the rotation of all of the Chromeria as it followed the sun, depending what time of day you came down here, a hallway might line up with a different room than it had last time you’d been here. He looked back down at the water. It was pretty soapy, right? Pretty much opaque, right? He sat down. “I suppose this is revenge?” he asked.

A quick, puzzled scowl, then a grin. “Actually, no. I had no idea you’d be modest. Especially not painfully so. Orholam knows the rest of the men in your family aren’t. I confess I meant to put you off balance. I thought you’d be amused. You said you were always seeing me naked.”

Kip cleared his throat, realized he had nothing to say. It was true. If she’d simply been trying to shame him, she wouldn’t have gotten into the bath herself. She simply would have stood or sat outside it, fully clothed.

His mind went back to his grandfather’s words about how if he played his cards right, Tisis would make love with him. And now she was naked, not two paces away. He licked lips that were miraculously dry, despite water and steam and humidity and sweat.

Oh. Oh my.

“You, uh, you paid the slave to divert me here?” he asked. She was in the water up to her collarbones, and the water was mostly opaque, but it was still inexplicably hard to look at her. And just as hard not to.

“I wanted to speak with you privately,” she said.

Speak. He could speak. Right?

Tisis scooted closer until she was seated right next to him. He swallowed. She was sitting so close that it was too intense to look straight into her hazel eyes, the color perfectly complemented by a thin halo-ring of green with tiny tips like wave caps into the hazel. He looked down—and realized that it probably looked like he was trying to stare through the water at her full breasts—and then he realized that it would look like that because it was true.

He snapped his head forward.

She faked a cough to hide a laugh.

It struck Kip like a note out of tune. It was a strange impulse of her, not to laugh at him outright when she could. Did she think he’d bolt if she pushed him just that extra little bit, or was it actual kindness? He looked at her quickly.