For about four hours, Caspian slept in his own bed with the curtains drawn and all the lights out. The medicine he’d taken had kicked in, numbing his pain but also making him as drowsy as he had been on the IV at the hospital. Originally, he’d wanted to clean himself up before he climbed under the crisp sheets, but his exhaustion had won out. He would just have to find out if a maid could rewash his laundry tomorrow, since he’d taken a nap still covered in the dirt and grime that he’d built up since Ethan and Thomas had brought him to their odd prison base.
Around five o’ clock, he woke up to the smell of freshly cooked food and saw that one of the servants had left him dinner on a portable tray that had been placed beside the bed. Since he’d had a late lunch, he wasn’t entirely hungry yet, but he still managed to eat about half of the meal. He also noticed that the cooks had prepared yet another dish that only required one utensil to eat, and he guessed that Jacob had probably told them about his broken wrist. Eating with a fork and knife would have been difficult when he could barely move his fingers on his right hand. Even though he was right-handed, he was still able to manipulate a spoon in his left without too much trouble and climbed out of bed once he felt sufficiently full.
Ambling into the adjacent bathroom with a yawn, he pulled off the white shirt and shorts that he’d been lent before his discharge from the hospital and turned on the shower water. Before he stepped under the stream, though, he glanced at the full-length mirror on the other side of the room and raised a brow. The medicine he’d been given had already worked wonders on repairing the bruises that had covered his skin. The majority of them were already fading, and even the large patch on his stomach was starting to heal. The cut on his cheek from Regis’s broken bottle was starting to go away as well, but he couldn’t tell if it was going to disappear completely. A thin line was forming around the edges of it that may have been an early indication of a scar.
Turning away from his reflection, he stepped into the shower and scrubbed himself off as well as he could with only one useful hand. It took him longer than usual to wash himself, but he didn’t mind. The hot water felt incredible as it rolled off his head and shoulders, and he closed his eyes, simply enjoying the sensation after he’d finished cleaning off all the dirt.
Once he was done, he climbed back out and dried off, wrapping the fluffy white towel around his waist and walking over to the sink to finish up the rest of his routine. He never thought he’d miss simple things like deodorant or brushing his teeth, but both suddenly felt luxurious after he’d spent a week without access to basic hygiene products. He was also relieved to finally shave his face, having grown sick of the scraggly beard that he’d grown in the other districts. It was difficult to maneuver the electric razor with his non-dominant hand, but after about fifteen minutes of meticulous work, he set it aside and leaned closer to the mirror to make sure he didn’t miss any spots.
Just as he started applying aftershave, he heard a knock on the door to his bedroom. “Yeah?” he called out absentmindedly as he rubbed the liquid into his skin. From a distance, he heard the door open and turned to see that one of the maids had stepped into his room. At first she seemed confused that he wasn’t in his bed, but after a second, she turned toward the bathroom and froze, twinging pink at the sight of the prince in nothing more than a towel.
“I-I’m sorry to intrude, Your Highness,” she stammered, quickly bending over in a deep bow. “Your guests are here.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her with a shrug, unabashed by the situation. He was the one who’d pretty much given her permission to come in, and he was just as covered as he would have been if he’d been wearing a pair of shorts. “Thanks for letting me know. You can tell them I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“I’ll do that, Your Highness,” she said, scurrying out of the room and closing the door behind her.
After she was gone, he tossed his towel on the rack and put on a set of real clothes, including jeans that actually fit properly and a green cotton t-shirt. It felt good to him to finally wear his own clothes again rather than garments he’d borrowed from other people to get by. He smoothed down the fabric over his torso and glanced at the mirror one more time, feeling much more like himself for the first time in a week, before he headed out to meet up with Jay and Miles in the foyer.
Around five o’ clock, he woke up to the smell of freshly cooked food and saw that one of the servants had left him dinner on a portable tray that had been placed beside the bed. Since he’d had a late lunch, he wasn’t entirely hungry yet, but he still managed to eat about half of the meal. He also noticed that the cooks had prepared yet another dish that only required one utensil to eat, and he guessed that Jacob had probably told them about his broken wrist. Eating with a fork and knife would have been difficult when he could barely move his fingers on his right hand. Even though he was right-handed, he was still able to manipulate a spoon in his left without too much trouble and climbed out of bed once he felt sufficiently full.
Ambling into the adjacent bathroom with a yawn, he pulled off the white shirt and shorts that he’d been lent before his discharge from the hospital and turned on the shower water. Before he stepped under the stream, though, he glanced at the full-length mirror on the other side of the room and raised a brow. The medicine he’d been given had already worked wonders on repairing the bruises that had covered his skin. The majority of them were already fading, and even the large patch on his stomach was starting to heal. The cut on his cheek from Regis’s broken bottle was starting to go away as well, but he couldn’t tell if it was going to disappear completely. A thin line was forming around the edges of it that may have been an early indication of a scar.
Turning away from his reflection, he stepped into the shower and scrubbed himself off as well as he could with only one useful hand. It took him longer than usual to wash himself, but he didn’t mind. The hot water felt incredible as it rolled off his head and shoulders, and he closed his eyes, simply enjoying the sensation after he’d finished cleaning off all the dirt.
Once he was done, he climbed back out and dried off, wrapping the fluffy white towel around his waist and walking over to the sink to finish up the rest of his routine. He never thought he’d miss simple things like deodorant or brushing his teeth, but both suddenly felt luxurious after he’d spent a week without access to basic hygiene products. He was also relieved to finally shave his face, having grown sick of the scraggly beard that he’d grown in the other districts. It was difficult to maneuver the electric razor with his non-dominant hand, but after about fifteen minutes of meticulous work, he set it aside and leaned closer to the mirror to make sure he didn’t miss any spots.
Just as he started applying aftershave, he heard a knock on the door to his bedroom. “Yeah?” he called out absentmindedly as he rubbed the liquid into his skin. From a distance, he heard the door open and turned to see that one of the maids had stepped into his room. At first she seemed confused that he wasn’t in his bed, but after a second, she turned toward the bathroom and froze, twinging pink at the sight of the prince in nothing more than a towel.
“I-I’m sorry to intrude, Your Highness,” she stammered, quickly bending over in a deep bow. “Your guests are here.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her with a shrug, unabashed by the situation. He was the one who’d pretty much given her permission to come in, and he was just as covered as he would have been if he’d been wearing a pair of shorts. “Thanks for letting me know. You can tell them I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“I’ll do that, Your Highness,” she said, scurrying out of the room and closing the door behind her.
After she was gone, he tossed his towel on the rack and put on a set of real clothes, including jeans that actually fit properly and a green cotton t-shirt. It felt good to him to finally wear his own clothes again rather than garments he’d borrowed from other people to get by. He smoothed down the fabric over his torso and glanced at the mirror one more time, feeling much more like himself for the first time in a week, before he headed out to meet up with Jay and Miles in the foyer.